Lisa Jackson's Bentz And Montoya Bundle Part 165

He nodded at her. "Yes?"

"Sometimes the crime scene evidence doesn't make sense because the body might have been moved. In that case you would have the dump site but you'd also find evidence from the place where the attack or killing actually occurred."

"That's right," Jay said, nodding to the girl, who smiled smugly and beamed at being correct.

"Now, let's take a look at these-" Jay hopped off the desk and walked toward the charts of the human body he'd hung on the wall. One was skeletal, another was muscular, another showed the organs, and the fourth was a blowup of the sketch of a human body with the marks and notations added by a coroner from an actual case. He told the cla.s.s this crime had occurred over ten years earlier, when a killer who called himself Father John was stalking the streets of New Orleans. The ligature marks around the victim's neck, as indicated by the ME's notes, were unique to Father John, or the Rosary Killer as he'd been called, who had strangled each of his victims with a rosary he'd created just for that purpose.

Father John had been a twisted serial killer, someone the kids would find macabre and fascinating.

Jay had not only a copy of the drawing from the autopsy, but photographs of the victim, which he would show later, then demonstrate how the science of forensics had helped lead the police to their killer. This case, he thought, would interest his cla.s.s as the murderer had been familiar with All Saints Campus. Of course, Kristi Bentz might find it all a little more personal as her father had helped unmask the killer's ident.i.ty. He noticed that she straightened in her chair.

"Now we'll look at a murder and work backward. You'll see we have a photograph of the victim and the medical examiner's notes." He reached for a stack of papers and began pa.s.sing them out. "We'll look at the body the way the ME did. Start on page one, it's a smaller version of the medical examiner's notes...."

Tonight, Vlad thought, from his perch on the third floor. Tonight would be a perfect time for his next abduction. He glanced upward through the highest limbs of the trees to the sheer outline of the moon, barely visible through the slowly moving clouds. Vlad thought, from his perch on the third floor. Tonight would be a perfect time for his next abduction. He glanced upward through the highest limbs of the trees to the sheer outline of the moon, barely visible through the slowly moving clouds.

But, of course, that was not how the process worked. He couldn't just take a victim on her way home from a late cla.s.s or the library or her job. He wasn't allowed to hide in the backseat of their cars at night, nor stalk them as they went unknowingly about their business. No...he was required to wait, to play the game, to make certain everything went as meticulously planned. He could take a life tonight, but it would not be one of the elite, one of the "chosen." Those who had been screened so carefully, those he deemed the royal ones. The privileged and college-educated. He had to be careful with them. They were being watched. But the others. Those Those he could maraud at will; though as ever, he must be careful. Always careful. he could maraud at will; though as ever, he must be careful. Always careful.

He heard the chime of the chapel bells and his pulse quickened. It was time.

Bong, bong, bong...

As they tolled off the hours, he felt a surge of excitement. Students began to pour out of the buildings, dashing hither and yon, talking, laughing, hurrying through the night, not realizing he was watching, that here, from his hiding spot, he could, if he were so inclined, pick them off one by one with a rifle, or a bow and arrow, or even a wrist rocket, a weapon he'd used as a child, sighting on birds and squirrels, even bats at night. His vision and hearing were so acute, even his sense of smell honed, that he could easily kill the prey of his choice, not that he needed a weapon.

But that was not the way it was to be.

That would be breaking the rules.

Tonight All Saints could not be his hunting ground.

His gut tightened as he spied several coeds, girls he'd seen on campus, students whose pictures he had tucked away. Several he knew by name and he smiled when he realized that one of them would be the next of the chosen ones. He rubbed his fingertips together and imagined their unwitting paths to him, which they themselves created, as they were the catalysts of their own demise...mistresses of their very own fates, the prophets of their own deaths.

Soon, he thought as a shadow pa.s.sed over the moon and the air changed slightly. He smelled her scent first, then, turning, caught sight of her, Kristi Bentz, walking swiftly, her long legs eating up the concrete path leading from Knauss Hall. She was following someone...no, chasing him down as he strode to a parking lot at the edge of campus. he thought as a shadow pa.s.sed over the moon and the air changed slightly. He smelled her scent first, then, turning, caught sight of her, Kristi Bentz, walking swiftly, her long legs eating up the concrete path leading from Knauss Hall. She was following someone...no, chasing him down as he strode to a parking lot at the edge of campus.

Even from this distance, he recognized the man.

The new professor.

Of course. His lips twisted as he eyed Jay McKnight, newest addition to the staff of All Saints.

The cop's daughter waved and, hair streaming behind her, caught up with McKnight.

Hidden in the shadow of the tower, he felt his blood begin to run hot. From pa.s.sion? Desire? Or anger? The night seeped through his skin and into his bones as his pulse elevated. His heart was thundering now, his muscles taut, his nerves tight as stretched rubber bands. He imagined what it would be like to touch her...to feel her respond to him, to slowly pull away each st.i.tch of her clothing until she was bare to him. In his mind's eye he saw her long limbs, muscular yet feminine...supple legs that would wrap around him as he leaned forward, his breath hot over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his teeth and tongue sliding over her nipples as he nipped....

His muscles became taut and his genitals responded, an erection growing rock hard.

No! He couldn't allow himself to go too deep into the fantasy. Not yet. He had to save himself. Without a sound, he closed the window.

Slowly, on silent footsteps, he backed away from the gla.s.s panes to the stairs and, as he descended the well-worn steps, he tamped down his need.

He could not be rash.

He could not give in to quick judgments.

He had to follow the plan.

Meticulously.

Or all would be lost.

"Jay! Professor McKnight! Hey, wait up!" Kristi walked as fast as she could, trying to catch up with him. She'd left right after cla.s.s and started home, then decided they needed to clear the air, so she'd retraced her steps, only to spy him heading out a back door. By the time she'd gotten close enough to call to him, he'd reached a staff parking lot. In the watery pool of illumination cast from a security light, he was loading his books and briefcase into the cab of a beat-up old pickup.

He looked over his shoulder and his jaw slid to one side. "Kristi Bentz."

"Hi." She nearly slid to a stop a good ten feet away from him. "I, uh, I was surprised that you were taking over Dr. Monroe's cla.s.s...."

"I bet."

She inclined her head, feeling her face flush. "This is awkward. Look, I know we-I-didn't leave things very good between us, and I thought-"

"Ancient history, Kris."

She'd forgotten he'd called her that. He'd been the only one in her life who had shortened her name. "Okay." She nodded. "But who knew we would be in the same cla.s.sroom, or that you would be my professor, or-wait a minute," she said as the truth suddenly dawned on her. "You knew. You had to have known."

"As of a few days ago, yeah." He nodded and opened the door a little wider.

A deep "woof" escaped from the darkened cab and a huge, muscular dog leaped to the ground. In the streetlight, the animal's muscles rippled beneath a coat that looked like burnished copper.

Kristi took a step backward.

"This is Bruno," he said.

"He's mammoth!"

"Nah, just a little guy." Leaning down, he stroked Bruno's big head. "Gentle as a fawn unless you p.i.s.s him off."

"I won't be doing that."

Jay flashed a smile and scratched the big dog's floppy ears. "Hurry up," he said to Bruno. "Take care of your business." Jay motioned to the edge of the lot where crepe myrtles lined the flower beds separating the campus from the parking area.

Bruno complied, sniffing the moist ground, then lifting his leg on a shrub while staring at Jay with baleful eyes.

"Good boy," Jay said as the dog finished relieving himself and began to sniff the ground. "Later. Come on, load up."

Bruno glanced at Kristi, then sprang into the pa.s.senger seat of the cab.

"So...why are you teaching here?" she asked.

"Change of pace. Things at the PD are still rough, never been right since Katrina, but I bet you know that."

She nodded, thinking of her father and his long hours, frustration, and disintegrating att.i.tude. She'd even overheard him talking about retirement, which was years off. It was odd because Rick Bentz had been born to be a cop. He was most alive when he was on the job. That dedication and work-above-all-else ethic had cost him his job in LA and his marriage to her mother. Ultimately, she feared, it would cost him his life. But lately, since the mother of all hurricanes and the storm's aftermath, he'd been overworked, overstressed, and disenchanted.

"So, opportunity knocked and I answered."

"And now I'm in your cla.s.s."

"Appears so," he drawled, and for the first time she saw beyond his own frustration to a bit of amus.e.m.e.nt at the situation. Oh, great. Just what she needed.

"Well, I just wanted to be sure that there were no hard feelings."

He lifted a shoulder. "No feelings period."

That stung a little bit, but she let it go. "Then we can go about this as if I'm just a student and you're the prof."

"Right."

"Good." She was still uneasy with the conversation; there seemed to be a million things they should be talking over, but why drag up all the old, hard feelings? If she could believe what he was saying, then they didn't have a problem.

"So, can I give you a lift?" he asked.

"Oh-uh, no...I'll cut across campus." She hooked her thumb in the opposite direction.

"It's late," he said.

"I'm fine. Really."

"Some girls have disappeared."

"Yeah, I know, but I can take care of myself. Tae kwon do, remember?"

The smile broadened. "Oh, yeah," he said.

A quicksilver memory slashed through her brain. She'd been a senior on a night not unlike this. They'd been alone in her father's apartment and she'd made the mistake of telling him that with her martial arts skills she could take down any man who tried to bother her. She'd a.s.sured him, then said: "I can take care of myself."

A don't-give-me-any-of-that-feminist-c.r.a.p smile had crossed his face. "Yeah, right."

"I can can."

She'd insisted that with her skills, she could handle anyone who came near her. He'd called her on her bragging and the discussion had elevated into a dare. Then, before the terms had been hammered out, he'd grabbed her, swept her feet from her, and taken her to the ground, using a technique he'd learned as a high-school wrestler. Within seconds he'd pinned her and she'd been unable to twist away from his weight.

She remembered lying on the living room carpet, staring into his triumphant face, breathing hard, so furious she wanted to spit at him. Nose to nose, hearts pumping, they'd lain wedged between her father's recliner and the television, each waiting for the other to move. Muscles tense. Ready. He'd known if he were so much as to shift his weight, she might be able to twist away; she was waiting for just that opportunity.

"Give?" he'd asked.

"No."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I pinned you."

"For now."

He grinned, taunting her. "I've got to be heavy."

She glared up at him and tried vainly to ignore her racing heart. The truth was he'd been crushing her, but there was more to it than that. She had to fight to keep from glancing at his lips, so near hers. Her blood pumped hard through her veins and she wondered what it would be like to make love to him. Right then. Right there. While they were still sweating and breathing hard from their wrestling. She saw his eyes darken, his pupils dilate as his own thoughts possibly mirrored hers. "Come on, Kris, I win," he said, his voice low.

"It's temporary..." She licked her lips and heard him groan, felt the hardness between his legs. She let out a little moan in reply and he lost control and kissed her. Hard. With a hot l.u.s.t that spread from his bloodstream to hers. It was glorious.

And then she bit him.

Drawing blood.

He sucked in his breath in pain, his weight shifting just a bit. He swore, too, softly but dangerously as she started to wriggle free, struggling to gain enough room to twist and kick him as she'd learned in her last cla.s.s.

But she stopped cold when she heard footsteps on the stairs outside the apartment door.

"Get off!" she ordered.

"What?"

Keys jangled on the other side of the door.

"It's Dad! Get off!"

In one fluid motion, Jay rolled off her and onto his feet. Before she could tell him what to do, he sprang over the couch, landed in the hall, and slipped into the bathroom as Kristi quickly adjusted her clothes and threw herself in her father's chair. She clicked on the remote just as the door swung open, revealing her father.

"Kristi?" Rick Bentz called as he spied her. "Oh..." Dropping his keys, wallet, and badge onto the entry hall table, he glanced at the television that was flickering on to a sports station. As if she'd ever been interested in a golf match. Cripes!

"Hi," she said brightly, with more enthusiasm than she'd ever greeted him. She knew her face was red, her hair sweaty, guilt written all over her expression, but she pretended that everything was normal and that her father, a detective who'd spent his life being suspicious and who was an expert in recognizing when someone was lying, didn't notice anything unusual.

"What's going on?" he asked casually.

About that time Jay flushed the toilet loudly, ran water in the sink, and walked out of the bathroom. He, too, was red in the face and his lip was discolored, a bit of dark blood visible where she'd bit him. Kristi wanted to drop through the floor and disappear.

"Hi, Detective," Jay said, and reached for his jacket, which had been slung over the back of the couch. "Gotta run. Work."

"Good idea," Rick Bentz said, his eyes narrowing on Jay. "You know there's a rule in my house. One my daughter seems to have forgotten, so I'll tell you. It's archaic, I know, but hard and fast. There are to be no boys in this place when I'm not here." He glared at Jay, then at Kristi.

"Sorry. Just bringing her home."