Violated Read online

  She kept her eyes locked on him. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  “Fine. If that’s what you want.” He stepped back, snatched a bathrobe off a nearby chair, and wrapped it around him.

  “It is.”

  He wasn’t looking at her anymore, just pacing around the room.

  “You could hang out at the hotel,” Paige added. “Get a massage, use the pool.”

  “Throw in a mani-pedi and I’m sold.” He met her gaze and then rolled his eyes.

  “Listen, I know you’re not happy about—”

  “You’re right. I’m not.”

  “It will be broad daylight. I’m not going inside his place. Besides, I’ll have my Glock.”

  His gaze was hardened steel. “I’d say that’s a smart idea.”

  “The gun or staying outside?” she teased.

  “Both.” His tone was serious, and based on the jut of his jaw there was nothing she could say to soothe his worry. The only thing that would make him comply was his desire to please her.

  “You know what confronting this man means to me…”

  After seconds of silent eye contact, he said, “I’ll agree to this stupidity on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “You have breakfast with me first.”

  She smiled, but it dulled before reaching her eyes. “You got it.”

  -

  Chapter 3

  TUESDAY, AUGUST 25TH, 8:45 AM PACIFIC TIME

  CANYON COUNTRY, CALIFORNIA

  SAM HAD HARDLY SAID A word at breakfast, which made Paige wonder why he even asked to share the meal with her. Maybe he was hoping that she’d magically change her mind and let him tag along when she went to Ferris’s house, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  She’d taken the rental car and followed the GPS, even though she remembered the way from last night. About a block out from Ferris’s house, the laughter and screaming of children playing in a local park filtered through her open window. They were enjoying the summer months the way kids used to, before televisions became babysitters. It was good to see that some kids were still kids. She passed abandoned bicycles in driveways and chalk drawings on sidewalks, indicating the area had a lot of families.

  She parked the car in front of the correct address and walked to the sidewalk, where she stood and looked at the place Ferris called home. He lived in a newer townhouse with each building consisting of five units. Ferris’s was on the end of one such group. A chain-link fence capped the end of his property, and a public walkway trailed between his building and the next.

  She walked to the front door and stood there, doubts swimming in her mind.

  Did she possess the courage to follow through, to push the past in Ferris’s face and make him acknowledge what he had done? She’d come all this way to do just that, and it certainly wasn’t time to back down now.

  Her arm felt heavy as she raised it to the knocker. Her fingers grasped the brass, her heart beating so fast, she felt light-headed.

  She glanced up and down the street again.

  She heard a door open and shut, and a female neighbor from the adjacent unit bounded down her front steps and hurried toward her sedan. She was probably trying to make it to work by nine. It was 8:45.

  Did she know that she lived next door to a rapist?

  The woman was off without a look toward Ferris’s house.

  Paige was still holding the knocker, though she hadn’t yet used it. Her thoughts were still tumbling over one another in her mind. Would Ferris recognize her? Would his eyes widen in fear if he did? Would he know that it was time to account for his actions, or in the very least own up to the fact that he’d destroyed a young woman’s life?

  Natasha’s face flashed in her mind, and Paige couldn’t allow herself to turn away.

  She slammed the knocker against the wood.

  No sound from inside.

  She wanted to get this confrontation done and over with—now. She didn’t want to come back again.

  Since Ferris had a garage, it was impossible to gauge if he was home based on the lack of a vehicle in the drive. Was he inside and ignoring her, or had he not heard her? All she knew was that she wasn’t about to leave without making absolutely sure he wasn’t there. If she could get into his yard, there might be a back door she could try.

  Her heart bumped off rhythm. Was she really considering going into his backyard?

  She knocked again and waited. More silence.

  She bit her lip and looked around the neighborhood. All the activity still seemed to be at the park.

  Without giving it another thought, she stepped down from his front steps and headed toward the sidewalk between the two buildings. She glanced at the end unit of the neighboring building, doing her best to be inconspicuous. All the curtains were closed.

  She glimpsed over her left shoulder, then her right. She wanted to pick up her pace but managed to retain a casual saunter. Going slightly past the corner of Ferris’s lot, she surveyed his yard. It was a small patch of grass with a shed that took up a third of the property. A wooden fence butted up against the building and ran to the back of the yard, separating him and his neighbor. While the woman had left that unit, it was still possible someone else was at home. The divider would provide some privacy, but she didn’t really want to explain to anyone why she was in Ferris’s yard in the first place. She couldn’t see her persistence to reach him standing up against scrutiny.

  The flipside was that if Ferris was home and tried anything, no one would be able to help her. But that was ridiculous. She was a skilled—and armed—FBI agent. Where were these moments of self-doubt coming from? Still, nerves had her putting her hand over her holster.

  “Karen, wait up!”

  Paige jumped and turned in the direction of the young voice. A girl of about seven was racing along the path to catch up to another girl about six years her senior, who smoked past Paige on her bicycle. The younger one seemed to be all legs and not getting anywhere fast on her bike. Streamers hung from the handlebars and spoke beads accented her wheels, catapulting Paige back to her childhood.

  Memories of youthful innocence reengaged Paige’s focus. She was outside the house of the man who had taken so much from her friend when she was in her early twenties, at a point in life when she was finally coming into her own. Yet, while he had destroyed Natasha’s life, he had set Paige’s on another course. She came to realize life wasn’t easy and it wasn’t fair. The optimist in her hadn’t wanted to admit defeat and accept that philosophy, though. But now, as an FBI agent, she had the power to at least do something about all the evil in the world. The murderers she caught paid for their crimes, and she prevented further killings from occurring.

  Her gaze returned to Ferris’s house. All she was going to do was see if he was home. She lifted the latch on the gate and, with one deep breath, entered his yard.

  -

  Chapter 4

  PAIGE STEPPED ONTO FERRIS’S DECK, keeping her steps light as she moved across the wood to the patio door. Fence or no fence, ethical or not, it had taken years to get this close to Ferris, and now that she was outside his home, she couldn’t just turn around and accept that Ferris wasn’t here and move on.

  The vertical blinds on the patio door were drawn open, but that wasn’t all Paige noticed. The sliding door was partially open, too.

  “Ferris Hall?” she called through the crack.

  She didn’t hear any sounds or movements coming from inside. Her FBI training was telling her that something wasn’t right, that people didn’t usually leave their doors wide open in the middle of the morning, but that same experience told her she couldn’t go inside without justification.

  Paige pressed her face to the glass and held a hand to her forehead to cut out the glare. Directly inside was a dining room with a table and four chairs. Beyond that she could
see an L-shaped kitchen, and to the left of the dining area was the living room. Everything appeared to be neat and tidy. Even the counters were relatively clear except for a toaster, coffeemaker, and a bottle of Aleve.

  There were no visual signs of an altercation; therefore, no real basis to enter. Except her gut was knotted with a foreboding sense that someone had broken into Ferris’s house. Despite the edge of the door and the frame not appearing to have any damage, without something blocking the inside track, a patio door made an easy access point for breaking and entering.

  A burst of giggles came from behind her, and she turned quickly to see more children racing along the pathway. None of them paid her any attention.

  When they disappeared from view, she turned back to the house. She stuck her head through the opening and called out his name again. “Ferris?”

  Straining to listen, she was again met with silence.

  Why would his back door be open if he wasn’t home, other than a B&E? Surely, he wouldn’t have forgotten to close the door behind him if he’d left.

  She gnawed on her lip, trying to find a rationalization for her to enter. If something had happened to Ferris in there, would she even be inclined to help him, though? The man had essentially taken her friend’s life. If she found him dead, would she feel any pity, or would she just feel as though Karma had been repaid?

  But she was curious to see how this man lived his life, how he carried on despite the fact he destroyed lives.

  Still, she was an FBI agent, she argued with herself—not above the law but an advocate of the law. Could she defend a decision to enter without any sign of a true disturbance? She calmed herself with the thought that if she entered and found nothing amiss, no one even needed to know she’d been there. And if something had happened, she’d admit to the truth.

  She called out a third time, and when he didn’t respond, she swallowed, about to step inside.

  “Excuse me,” a woman called out in a curious tone. “Who are you?” Based on the direction of her voice, she must be standing on the pathway to Paige’s right.

  Coolness blanketed Paige’s flesh as heat burned her insides. She blew a strand of hair off her cheek and turned her face toward the woman. She was wearing dark sunglasses and dressed in shorts and a collared tee. One hand was on her hip, and she held the other to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sun.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Her curious tone had quickly turned accusatory, and the woman moved closer to the fence.

  Paige had one option: lie. The question was just whether she was going to simply distort the truth or completely evade it. She could say she was an FBI agent and add that she was here to speak to Ferris. That actually would have been quite accurate. But that would lead the woman to believe that he was suspected of a crime and being questioned concerning one. If there was a situation inside, it would give her something to fall back on if she had to report a crime, but it would also get the Bureau involved.

  “I’m a friend of Ferris’s,” Paige blurted out before she could really formulate her plan. At the same time, she made sure that her holster was tucked under her shirt. Thankfully, the woman was on her right and the gun on her left.

  The woman lifted her shades up and rested them on her forehead. “I’ve never seen you before. And it still doesn’t explain why you’re at his back door.”

  Think, Paige, think.

  “I feel so stupid.” Maybe if she played the distraught and somewhat crazy one-night stand… Paige stepped across the deck, closing the distance between her and the woman. “I spent last night with him and left my purse inside.”

  The woman was through the gate in an instant. Oh God. She hopped up the three stairs onto the deck, stopping short of Paige. She pointed toward the open door. “Did you do that? Are you breaking in?”

  “No, no.” She hated lying, but in this case it was necessary. “He…he gave me a key.”

  The woman arched a penciled brow but relaxed as Paige maintained eye contact. Her expression eased into a smile. “Oh, I’ve been there before. You have everything under control, then?”

  Paige mustered a smile for her in return. “Yep. I think I do.”

  “All right, then. I’m off. Things to do.” The woman hopped off the deck and into the grass as if the four-foot elevation was nothing and waved over her head. “Have a good day,” she said with one last glance over her shoulder at Paige.

  Paige returned the wave and slipped inside Ferris’s house. She took a moment to catch her breath, supporting herself on a dining chair. It turned out trespassing wasn’t that easy on the heart rate. She abruptly jumped back as she realized she had let the distracting neighbor mar her better judgment. She had to approach this as she would a crime scene, and her fingerprints would be all over the top of the chair now. She pulled on the bottom of her T-shirt and wiped the surface with it. Then she covered her fingers with her shirt to slide the door closed.

  Being inside Ferris’s home like this felt as if she were violating him—an odd emotion given what he had done to her friend. She’d breached brick and mortar; he had transgressed against flesh and blood.

  She made her way through the main level, cognizant of her surroundings. So far, as she had concluded from peering inside, nothing indicated a struggle or altercation. In fact, it was the opposite. The place was immaculate and carefully organized.

  In the living room, three remotes were laid out side by side on a tray. Sports magazines were fanned out on a coffee table, as if it were part of a waiting room at a doctor’s office.

  The place got cooler the deeper inside she went, and that meant Ferris relied on an air conditioner. Her mind went to the patio door. It must not have been open for long if it was still so cool in the depths of the townhouse.

  Thank God she had her gun. She stopped moving to listen, but was met with only silence again.

  With each step, her conscience condemned her as a trespasser while her training urged her to investigate and her curiosity taunted her.

  She cleared the first floor and basement. She almost touched the banister on the staircase to the second level, but realized just before making contact and pulled her hand back. The last thing she needed to do was leave any trace or fingerprints.

  Her heart raced, its beat thumping in her ears.

  On the upper floor, there was a bathroom, one bedroom, and an office.

  She stepped into his bedroom, imagining what might take place here, assuming he was stupid enough to bring the woman home. But it was unlikely. Still, to be where he slept, where he got a good night’s rest…

  She spotted a plain wooden box, the size of a small jewelry chest, on his dresser and was drawn to look inside.

  Using the fabric of her shirt again, she opened the lid. What she saw made her momentarily lose her balance. She lifted out the necklace…

  “Paige, look what I got.” Natasha was smiling and dancing around Paige, one arm held up in the air, her other hand pointing to her neck and the silver necklace that adorned it. Dangling from the chain was a heart-shaped pendant with the letter N engraved on it.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “From one of the merchants set up by the pool.”

  “Why do I sense there’s more to this story?”

  Natasha smiled and winked at Paige. “A guy bought it for me.”

  “What did you do?” Paige asked, admiring the piece of jewelry.

  She laughed. “I was just me. Isn’t that enough?” Natasha beamed and grabbed Paige’s hand. “Come on, let’s go have a drink.”

  Paige blinked the tears from her eyes. It couldn’t be. She wiped her wet eyes, her gaze not leaving the necklace in her hand. The chain was a common style, but the heart pendant and the letter N…

  Still, it didn’t mean this one had been Natasha’s…

  Paige swallowed. But she remembere
d when Natasha had realized she’d lost it. She had dropped on the end of the hotel bed as if all the weight of the world were piled on her shoulders. It was the morning after the rape.

  Tears now fell freely down Paige’s cheeks. There was no doubt in her mind that the necklace she now held had been Natasha’s.

  Paige cried as the past washed over her and continued to do so until rage replaced her sadness.

  Somehow, she would make this son of a bitch pay for what he had done. She was past the point of keeping within the shades of the law and would circumvent legal means if that’s what it took to hold him responsible.

  She clasped the necklace around her neck. Had Ferris kept it as some sort of sick notch in his bedpost? If so, that showed a psychology to him that confirmed he was a repeat offender. And if that was his mentality, prison wouldn’t have rehabilitated him, and that meant there were likely date-rape drugs here to prove it.

  She stormed from the bedroom and toward the bathroom.

  Beyond the point of caring anymore if she left her fingerprints behind, she emptied the contents of the medicine cabinet, and his toiletries now filled the sink.

  Nothing.

  She rushed back to his bedroom and tore it apart. The drugs were here somewhere. A man like Ferris wouldn’t stop raping…

  Several minutes passed as she searched, and when she was finished, his bedroom looked like a tornado had struck. But still no pills.

  Maybe she was being ridiculous, hoping to find something where there was nothing. And even if she found the drugs, what did she hope to accomplish? While possession of date-rape drugs was illegal, her means of getting them would make them inadmissible in any court. But she couldn’t stop. All she could see was her friend’s body in that casket—the way her face, even in death, showed her tortured existence.

  She hurried downstairs to the kitchen. There was no way she was stopping now.

  She searched each cupboard and drawer, pulling out items and rooting to the back. She had one place left to look, and as she opened it, she saw that it was a catchall drawer. Stuffed with anything and everything from a meat thermometer, to sandwich bags, to tin foil, to… She pulled out a sleeve of pills. She flipped them and read the stamp on the silver backing. Allergy pills.