Dying To Play. Debra Webb
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care, then he reeled him or her in, and then it was over.”
Elaine remembered a number of highly publicized details of the case. “But this Gamekeeper killed his players himself, right? There were no suicides involved.”
Callahan’s fierce expression went blank again. “That’s right.”
When Elaine would have spoken again, he cut her off. “Don’t bother with the serial-killers-don’t-change-their-routine excuse,” he said, a distinct edge in his tone. “I’ve had that load of crap shoved down my throat until I could puke. They do, at times, change their methods.” Callahan sipped his drink, taking his time. Perhaps more to give himself a moment to calm down than to quench his thirst. “It’s possible that I wounded him badly enough that he has no choice but to do things differently this time.”
She gave her head another shake. “I’m sorry, Callahan, I just can’t accept that conclusion without more than you’re offering. Granted, we need to follow up on that possibility, but I’m not going to assume he’s the one based on such meager reasoning.”
He leaned back in his seat, his expression going to victorious in one fluid motion. “I see. So we’ll follow up on all our other leads. Consider all those other options first.”
Ire tore through her again. He knew as well as she did that they had no other leads or options. “After we interview Matthews’s wife, we’ll outline a strategy.” The new widow had been sedated after hearing the news. Her personal physician had assured Elaine that she would be up and ready to speak with the police by noon today. Another reason for an early lunch. The woman’s mother had picked up the children and would be caring for them for a couple of days.
Mother.
Damn, she had to touch base with her mom.
Callahan directed his attention back to his glass of cola. “Whatever you say.”
Wow. Now that was cooperation. Too bad she knew he didn’t mean it.
“I have to make a personal call.”
She started to push up from the table but one look into his eyes told her that he suspected it was only an excuse to make some call related to the case behind his back. Damn. She supposed she didn’t deserve his trust just yet, either.
Slumping back into her chair she fished out her cell phone. Six missed calls. Elaine frowned. What the hell could be so urgent that her mother would keep calling like that? For the first time since Kathleen had given Elaine the message, a new kind of anxiety strong-armed its way into her too busy morning. She’d been so focused on this case that she hadn’t considered something might really be wrong.
With a flick of one finger she’d entered the speed dial number for home. Not the place where she lived with Sally, but the home where she’d grown up with three brothers and one sister. Her mother’s pleasant voice on the other end of the line immediately alleviated the pressure on Elaine’s chest. Surely if something were wrong she wouldn’t sound so calm.
“It’s me.” Elaine took a deep, calming breath. “Sorry I missed your calls. What’s up?”
“We need to talk.”
Those four little words struck renewed fear in Elaine’s heart. There was something about the tone—or lack thereof— that jarred her most deeply entrenched instincts.
“Is something wrong?”
“Can you come by for an early lunch?” her mother asked, smoothly avoiding her daughter’s question.
Just then the waiter plopped the heavy stoneware plates on the table, Jimmy’s famous burgers literally steaming in their griddle toasted buns.
“Sure, I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Elaine assured her before disconnecting. She stared at the phone for a moment before dropping it back into her purse. Her gut knotted up and did some screaming of its own. She swallowed hard and wondered if she’d remembered to bring that new bottle of antacid.
“Everything okay?”
Her gaze shifted to her new partner. She couldn’t help wondering if she looked as guarded as he did. How the hell were they going to conduct this investigation when they didn’t trust each other for an instant?
“I don’t know.”
There wasn’t much that scared Elaine, but this terrified her.
Chapter 9
Elaine managed to scarf down half her burger before she told Callahan they had to go. She had neither the time nor the inclination to drop him off at the station considering how traffic would be backed up at that time of day. Instead, she told him she had to stop by to see her mother a moment and he could wait in the car…if he didn’t mind.
He shrugged that indifferent gesture so characteristic of his personality and didn’t argue. He’d managed to shovel down his burger by that time, anyway.
Elaine parked her Jeep in the long curved drive that cut through the elegant landscape of her childhood home. The yard instantly brought back dozens of memories of touch footfall and tree-climbing exploits. There was scarcely a tree on the property that Elaine hadn’t scaled at least once. With three macho brothers, she’d learned the art of playing hard and fast very quickly. Her only sister, Judith, two years older, had preferred baking and curling hair to playing with her brothers and tomboy sister. Elaine couldn’t help smiling. She’d had the perfect childhood with the epitome of the all-American family and wonderful parents. They’d done everything together and had always been there for each other. Both her mother and her father had been heavily involved with their children’s lives. Still were for that matter.
“I’ll be quick,” she promised as she unbuckled her seat belt. Guilt nudged at her but she ignored it. This wasn’t about the case. This was personal. She didn’t want him anywhere near her personal life.
“No problem.” He surveyed the yard and the house beyond. “Nice place.”
Elaine abruptly wondered where Callahan had grown up. Did he have family? What did they think of the shambles that appeared to be his career and personal life? She frowned, shook off the foolish thought and stared out at the classic Georgian home that stood a proud two stories and a roomy five thousand square feet.
“Thanks.”
She’d just gotten the driver’s-side door open when she heard her mother’s voice.
“I didn’t know you were bringing a guest!”
Elaine cringed. Her mother was a typical Buckhead socialite. No way would she ever stand for anyone waiting in the car. Atlanta’s home of the wealthy, socially and politically prominent, Buckhead residents strictly adhered to certain codes.
“Mom, this is Special Agent Trace Callahan.”
Callahan emerged from the vehicle, offering her mother that megawattage smile, which charmed her in two seconds flat. “Mrs. Jentzen, it’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He took Lana Jentzen’s outstretched hand and brushed a kiss to the knuckles. Her mother pressed her free hand to her chest and giggled. Giggled!
Elaine’s jaw sagged in disbelief. Any possibility of damage control went out the proverbial window with that line and showy display. She would need to know where Callahan hailed from in order to determine if he’d just put on the dog for her mother or if he’d been raised a true Southern gentleman. She seriously doubted the latter, though the conclusion could very well be based on nothing more than her intense dislike for the man. Or was she confusing distrust for dislike? If one considered the way he could make her shiver in awareness…forget it. She wasn’t going there.
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