Force of the Falcon Read online

  He removed pancake mix and eggs from the refrigerator. “I’ve been thinking,” he said as he cracked the eggs into a bowl. “The gruesome blood and marks in your house, they resemble an animal’s, but only a sick, deranged man would violate your house like that. This psycho may be someone you know.”

  Her startled expression made his gut pinch with guilt. She wouldn’t like the rest of his questions, either, but they were a necessary evil in solving the case.

  “Sit down and think about it. I want you to make a list of all the men in your life. Anyone you’ve been involved with the past year or so. An old boyfriend, lover that you broke up with. Someone at work who might have a crush on you. And I’d like contact information for your ex-husband.”

  Sonya gasped. “Stan wouldn’t do this kind of thing.”

  His jaw tightened. “Does that mean you still love him?”

  “No.”

  Her quick admission sent relief spiraling through him. Why, he didn’t know. He shouldn’t care about her relationship with her ex. “Maybe he’s trying to scare you into running back to him?”

  A pained look flashed into her eyes. “Stan isn’t a violent man,” Sonya said. “If anything, he’s the opposite. He left emergency medicine because he didn’t like the trauma cases.”

  Wimp. Had the man deserted his daughter because of her handicap?

  Still, he didn’t sound like he fit the profile of the killer. And a psycho stalker was the only culprit that made sense. Not a bird or mutant creature.

  Birds wouldn’t smear blood on the walls of Sonya’s house and floor. That act had been done by a human, one who intentionally wanted to terrify her.

  He handed her a piece of paper and pen, then turned to the stove and poured the pancake batter onto the griddle. “Write down any men you’ve been in contact with,” he said in a low voice.

  “Brack, I can’t accuse the people I work with of trying to hurt me—”

  “Just make the list, Sonya. I’ll be discreet questioning them, I promise.”

  She gripped the pen and frowned, and his pulse pounded. Did she have a lover or boyfriend that she didn’t want to tell him about?

  SONYA NIBBLED on the hotcakes and sausages Brack had prepared, but her appetite had vanished. The thought of making a list of her friends and coworkers as suspects in her attack made her stomach churn.

  Not that she had that many friends in town. She and Katie had only been in Tin City about four weeks. And as far as lovers or boyfriends…there was no one. There hadn’t been since her marriage ended.

  “Can I see the list?” Brack asked.

  She pushed the pad toward him warily. “I really don’t think anyone I know would hurt me. And I haven’t been in town long, Brack.”

  While Brack studied the names, Sonya mentally reviewed them herself. Stan Silverstein, her ex-husband. Brack’s suggestion that he might try to scare her into running back to him was ridiculous…. He didn’t want her back.

  Aaron Waverman, the doctor who’d treated her—he had hinted at wanting a relationship and she’d blown him off. Would he be angry enough over her rejection to hurt her?

  No…she didn’t believe Aaron was dangerous. He was a healer, for God’s sake.

  Katie’s pediatrician, Dr. Salinger—he was in his mid-fifties, happily married with grandchildren.

  Van and Joey—the paramedics she partnered with. But neither one of them had expressed a personal interest in her or exhibited violent tendencies. And Joey had even had trouble passing the EMT class because in the beginning he had fainted at the sight of blood.

  Dr. Phil Priestly, the vet she used, and his assistant, Jerry Elmsworth. Dr. Priestly had a distinct, intense manner but he’d never shown interest in her. And Jerry…he’d barely paid her any attention. He seemed slightly slow and had a nervous tic. She’d sympathized with him and felt connected because she realized he probably dealt with rude stares just as Katie did.

  “I still don’t want you talking to Stan,” Sonya said.

  Brack arched a dark eyebrow. “Why are you protecting him, Sonya?”

  “I’m not. I…don’t want to give him reason to think I can’t take care of Katie.”

  His mouth hardened. “So you’re worried he might sue for custody?”

  “No, not really.” He didn’t even want visitation rights. “I just don’t want him involved in our lives.” And thinking that I’m a failure as a mother.

  He placed his hand over hers, and heat shot through her. “I’m sorry he hurt you. He sounds like a real stand-up guy.”

  She pulled away, thumbed her fingers through her hair and sighed. “It doesn’t matter anymore. But he’s a dead end as far as these bizarre attacks go.”

  He studied the names again. “This list is short. Everyone on it is associated with you through work or Katie. How about old boyfriends?” He looked into her eyes, his expression a blank mask. “Who have you been involved with since your divorce?”

  Embarrassment tinged her cheeks, but she didn’t owe anyone an explanation for her choices. She liked being alone.

  Or at least she had until Brack had touched her. “No one,” she said matter-of-factly.

  He sipped his coffee. “Really? You can’t tell me there’s been no interest.”

  She bit back a sardonic comment. She could confess that she hadn’t been interested in anyone, that she’d been dead inside since Stan left her. Even before.

  But her reaction to him the night before negated that argument.

  “I’ve been focused on moving, getting settled in Tin City, Katie. She’s all I need in my life now.”

  He lifted his brows in question, but she refused to reply. Need and want were two different issues. Besides, a temporary need could go unsatisfied.

  “All right. How about someone else at the hospital or in town? Anyone pursue you who you turned down?”

  Sonya massaged her temple where a headache pulsed behind her eyes.

  “Sonya?”

  “Aaron Waverman,” she said quietly. “He…asked me to dinner a few times but I declined.” She stretched her fingers in front of her on the table, stared at the nails she’d broken trying to claw her way to safety during the attack, then to the scratch marks on her hands. “But, good heavens, Brack, Aaron is a doctor, not some psycho killer who turns into a giant bird at night to prey on his victims.”

  Brack shrugged but didn’t comment. “How about Doctor Priestly? How do you know him?”

  “The vet?” Sonya smiled. “We got Snowball from the clinic, and he adminstered her shots. That’s it.”

  “And his assistant, Elmsworth?”

  “He’s quiet, seems kind of shy.” She hesitated, twisted her fingers together. “Katie didn’t care for him, though, but there really wasn’t a reason.”

  The wind howled outside, and the small amount of sunlight that had fought through the clouds earlier disappeared, cloaking the day in a murky gray.

  The telephone trilled and Brack answered, a frown deepening the grooves in his forehead. “Yeah. All right, Sheriff. I’ll be right there.”

  Sonya’s pulse pounded as he ended the call and turned to her. “What’s wrong, Brack?”

  “There’s been another attack.”

  “Oh, my God!” Sonya pressed her hand to her stomach. “Who was it?”

  “Two teenagers were hiking this morning. They got separated. A few minutes later, one of the girls heard a scream about a mile away. She ran through the woods and found her friend mauled and bleeding in the snow.”

  The scene played out in Sonya’s mind in vivid clarity. “Is the girl all right?”

  Brack shook his head, his expression grave as he placed his coffee cup into the sink. “I’m afraid not, Sonya. The girl is dead.”

  BRACK HATED the look of anguish on Sonya’s face, but he wasn’t a man to mince words and lying to her would serve no purpose. Besides, if she was scared, maybe he could convince her to leave town for a few days.

  He wanted her safe. Away from t
he horror of this bizarre killer.

  She stood shakily. “We have to talk to the girl who survived. She must be devastated.”

  He moved in front of her, blocking her exit. “No. I have to go, but you don’t. Why don’t you pick up Katie and go to Denver for a few days.”

  “Katie’s father is in Denver. I don’t want to go back there.”

  “Then go to a friend’s, or a hotel in Boulder.” He rubbed his thumb across the palm of her hand. His pulse pounded as he envisioned the dead girl, then saw Sonya in her place.

  “Brack…” Her voice cracked. “I’m a trained paramedic. I’m not going to fall apart. I can handle seeing this girl’s body.”

  “This crazy killer just murdered a girl, Sonya, not even twenty-four hours after smearing blood all over your house. I don’t want you to end up like her.”

  She shuddered. “I don’t want that, either, but I let one man run me out of my home, Brack. I don’t intend to give another man that kind of control over me.”

  Her declaration stood between them. A statement, not a question. He admired her courage, even if he didn’t want to accept her response.

  Besides, he didn’t have time to argue. He wanted to see the crime scene before they moved the girl’s body. Timing might mean the difference in tracking down this killer. He grabbed his gun, tucked it inside his jacket, then yanked on his coat. “Then let’s go.”

  The ride passed in strained silence, the gray clouds hovering above the mountain peaks casting the world in a dismal gray. He mentally braced himself for the scene ahead and assumed Sonya was doing the same. As he maneuvered the icy roads, he checked the edges of the woods for signs of unrest. He hit a patch of ice, and the SUV started to skid, but he steered into it and maintained control. He’d be damned if he died in a freak car accident when he had a killer to catch.

  A few minutes later, he and Sonya trekked through the woods together. She didn’t complain about the cold or the hike, simply kept up beside him as if she’d regained her strength for the fight. His admiration for her rose another notch.

  Voices echoed from a clearing ahead, Sheriff Cohen’s and then that of his new deputy, Johnny Wilkins. The young deputy was snapping photographs as Brack broke through the trees and spotted the girl.

  Damn, she was young and had her entire life ahead of her. A skinny blonde. Her friend, he assumed, sat on a stump nearby crying, her head in her hands.

  He paused to study the body, and Sonya stilled beside him, her breath hitching. The victim lay in the snow, her jacket ripped to shreds, her clothes torn and stained in blood. More blood had spilled onto the white snowpacked earth, painting crimson streaks that looked macabre. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with shock, the flesh on her hands torn and bloody. She’d obviously used her hands to shield her face in a desperate attempt to fend off the attack.

  Bile rose in Brack’s throat at the brutality of the crime.

  Sonya staggered slightly, then leaned into him. For a brief moment, he squeezed her hand, then a silent look of understanding passed between them, and he released her to confer with the sheriff. Sonya stooped beside the girl’s friend and spoke softly to her. A second later, the teenager collapsed into Sonya’s arms sobbing.

  “Thank you for phoning, Sheriff.” His throat tightened as he spoke the words. “Did the girl’s friend see anything?”

  Cohen glanced at the surviving teenager and shook his head. “Claims she was too far away. She heard a loud screeching cry, then her friend screamed. By the time she reached her, it was too late.”

  Just as it had almost been too late for Sonya the night he’d found her. His throat constricted at the realization that if he hadn’t heard that cry, Sonya might have ended up dead, too. Then he would never have known her. Never known that Katie was out there, either, and she might have frozen to death.

  Unwanted emotions crowded his chest. Thank God Sonya had fought so hard to survive.

  Cohen shot him a sour look. “I don’t like you and you know it, Falcon. But if you know who or what is doing this, now’s the time to speak up. The town gets wind of these attacks and we’re gonna have pure panic on our hands.”

  “I don’t know who killed her,” Brack said in a dark tone. “But I’ll find out. And when I do, we’ll put a stop to it.”

  He had to, before anyone else died.

  THE THRILL of the hunt ignited pinpoints of excitement through his veins.

  He licked the blood from the tips of his talons and inhaled the teenage girl’s scent. She was so young. Innocent. Ripe.

  And she’d tasted so sweet. Almost as sweet as Sonya.

  Too bad the other girl had escaped.

  He watched from his perch on the ledge above, his eyes piercing the shadows of the woods as that Falcon man and the sheriff studied his handiwork. Sonya was here, too. Cuddling the other girl. Witnessing the sorrow left in his wake.

  The power he’d had over the girl’s fate.

  Her face had turned ashen when she’d first laid eyes on the bloody body, at the realization that it might have been her.

  And one day soon it would. Unless she allowed him to become her lover first. Giving herself to him would be her only salvation.

  The only way he’d let her live.

  Chapter Ten

  Sonya cradled the girl against her, and soothed her with nonsensical words. “My name is Sonya Silverstein. I’m a paramedic. Are you all right, sweetie? Are you hurt anywhere?”

  “No, I’m okay.” The girl gulped and rubbed at her swollen eyes while the wind tossed her tangled hair in her face. “I just…can’t believe Debbie’s dead.”

  “I know….” Sonya situated herself in between the teen and her friend’s body so she didn’t have to look at her mangled corpse. “What’s your name, honey?”

  “Beverly…Wallace. We came up here to hike. But then I ran ahead because I thought I saw a peregrine, and we got separated.” She gulped. “Oh, God, if we’d only stayed together, m-maybe she’d still be alive.”

  “It’s beautiful country for hiking,” Sonya admitted, knowing the comment sounded inane when grotesque violence colored the sight before them. “It’s not your fault that your friend was attacked, Beverly. If you had been with her, he might have hurt you, too.”

  “But…maybe I could have saved her…”

  Sonya understood all too well the power of guilt, rational or irrational. She suffered with the cold truth every day that her own body had given Katie the gene for her disorder. If she could have the muscular weakness, the physical limitations, she would lift them from her child and carry the weight herself.

  “Shh, you can’t blame yourself for some maniac’s assault.” She removed a tissue from her pocket and handed it to the girl, then paused a moment as she dried her eyes. “Can I call someone for you? Your parents? A friend?”

  The girl clutched her arms. “Debbie’s parents! They’re going to be so upset.” Her voice cracked and another round of sobs racked her frame. Sonya’s heart squeezed. Debbie’s parents would be devastated. No matter how old your child, parents weren’t supposed to have to bury their own offspring.

  “We’ll take care of them,” Sonya promised. “How about your mother and father?”

  Beverly nodded against her and sniffed. “I already gave the sheriff their number. They’re going to be so mad at me.”

  “Beverly, listen to me, your parents are going to be glad you’re alive.” Sonya tucked a strand of the girl’s hair behind one ear and tipped up her chin. “Now, tell me about the attack. Did you see anything?”

  “No…I was too far away. But I heard this awful sound. It was like a wild animal screeching, then Debbie screamed. I ran as fast as I could, but I lost my compass earlier, and I got turned around.” She gasped for a breath. “When I finally found her, she was lying in the snow…and there was so much blood.”

  “She was already unconscious?”

  Beverly nodded. “I didn’t even get to tell her goodbye.”

  Sonya’s he
art broke for the girl. They had to stop this killer before he hurt anyone else.

  But what in the world were they dealing with? She’d been attacked herself, and she still wasn’t sure if it was an animal or a man.

  Brack suspected that her attacker knew her personally. But which one of her acquaintances or friends could be so vile as to kill an innocent young girl?

  The wind wailed through the tall trees, scattering dead leaves and snow, and the sound of a bird cawing broke the quiet. Suddenly Sonya felt as if someone was watching her.

  Or some thing.

  Was the person or animal who’d killed the girl nearby? Was he watching them scurry about in fear, trying to figure out his identity while he still carried the fresh scent of blood on his hands?

  Sonya scanned the forest nearby, and her skin crawled. The flutter of wings broke through the wind, and she thought something moved on the ledge above them.

  He was up there. Watching. Enjoying their fear.

  And he would kill again.

  ONCE AN ANIMAL or human developed the taste of the kill, he rarely turned back.

  Brack grunted in frustration, saw Sonya staring at the ridge and turned to scan the horizon. If the predator enjoyed his hunt, had he lingered to guard his kill afterward? Or had he taken his fill and moved on to find more prey?

  Dark clouds rolled across the tops of the trees, the shadows of impending bad weather casting a gray as dismal as the death hanging in the air. In the distance he spotted a lone hawk soaring in flight, then diving downward to hone in on its find.

  Just as this killer had done.

  Dammit. He didn’t see anything, but the predator was out there now. Gloating over his success. Watching them react to his sick, twisted work.

  Sonya pointed east. “Brack, I think he was up on that ledge.”

  He pivoted, searching. “I sensed his presence, too. I’ll check it out.”

  She caught his arm. “Be careful.”

  He offered her a token smile and strode into the woods, weaving through the dense foliage to climb the ledge. Minutes turned into half an hour as he hiked, looking for signs of the predator. Broken limbs, more injured animals, a dead squirrel, feathers, blood.