Keep Me Safe (Slow Burn #1)(57)

Left unsaid was the fact that they most likely had doubts about the validity of Ramie’s abilities even if the two detectives who’d visited Caleb’s home had witnessed Ramie’s accuracy in locating the body.

Detectives Briggs and Ramirez likely did believe Ramie’s capabilities but they were only two detectives in an entire department of skeptics. And the two detectives probably didn’t advertise the fact that they had anything to do with Ramie’s trek to an unsecured crime scene.

Caleb had to curb his mounting hope. How many times did the police ever have a completely sealed, by-the-books crime scene that hadn’t had relatives of the victim or concerned acquaintances stomping through the area before realizing what had happened and called 911?

“Who’s staying here with Tori?” Quinn asked. “Surely it’s not a good idea to leave the house so unprotected by sending so many of our men with you, Caleb.”

“Dane has it well in hand,” Caleb said calmly.

Then he turned to Ramie as the others prepared to depart. He pulled her into his arms, ensuring he was at his most serious as he turned her to completely face him. He framed her face in his hands, his thumbs feathering over her cheekbones.

“Promise me, Ramie. Promise me you’ll do exactly as instructed at all times and nothing more. Don’t try any heroics. Got me?”

She cracked a small, rueful smile. “We’ve already covered that I’m not particularly brave or heroic. So let me say that, while I may not be any of those things, neither am I stupid. I have no intention of doing anything that puts me or any of you at risk.”

“Let’s roll then,” Dane said.

TWENTY-SEVEN

RAMIE shivered when they pulled up to an overgrown single-wide trailer that looked as though it was falling down. They were north of Houston, right on the fringes of a rural community where houses were spaced large distances apart and big pieces of acreage were used in farming and to keep cattle.

It had taken them almost an hour to get there, though it wasn’t a great distance as the crow flew. Traffic in the bustling area called the Woodlands had slowed them considerably and all Ramie could think was that the killer had done it on purpose.

Nothing he did could be considered random. He thought everything out to the minutest detail and he planned for every contingency.

Why then had she even bothered to come? She already knew it would be too late for the victim. That the killer was toying with her in an effort to push her over the edge. The women he abducted were merely instruments used to torture her. Nothing else. Their only crime was their accessibility.

The killer wouldn’t have chosen someone who would pose a challenge to him. Because they weren’t who he was after. He would have needed easy conquests so he could act fast and then have the police involve Ramie.

In essence, she, Caleb, his security and the city and county police were his puppets, dangling from strings while he directed their actions. She couldn’t even imagine how many resources were being utilized in the hunt for this madman or the toll it was taking, both financial and psychological.

The two detectives looked haggard, like they hadn’t slept in several nights. Dane and the men he oversaw all had determined, focused looks on their faces. There was an air of expectancy that hovered over the crowd of people standing in the front yard and then she realized that they were all looking expectantly . . . ​at her.

The pressure she was under, the expectations and demands placed upon her, weighed heavily on her heart and soul. Her feet dragged as she took a few steps closer to the rickety front porch of the trailer. They were so heavy it felt as though her feet were encased in lead.

“Do I just go in?” Ramie asked, staring in bewilderment at all the people staring back at her.

Their stares left prints on her skin. She fidgeted underneath their scrutiny. She lifted her gaze to Caleb in a silent plea for help. Did they expect her to perform like a circus monkey in front of them all? It felt as though this were some gruesome party where she was expected to entertain everyone by acting out a vicious crime.

“Detective Briggs?” Caleb said, raising his voice to be heard. “If you want Ramie to go in then the rest of you need to stand back and give her breathing room. Have you cleared the trailer yet? Is it even safe for her to go in?”

As he spoke, he put his arm in front of Ramie as if protecting her from whatever was inside.

Detective Briggs nodded shortly. “I realize that we can’t ask you not to touch anything given that your gift manifests itself through touching, but if you could limit it to only what’s necessary, perhaps we’ll be able to collect fingerprints or DNA.”

Ramie knew that was a tenuous hope at best. The killer was getting smarter, not more careless, as he escalated. Most killers probably did get more out of control and more convinced of their invincibility as time went on. But not this one. And Ramie found this kind of killer to be the most frightening of all. What could be worse than a man who couldn’t be found or apprehended? Free to kill and torture at will. How could any woman ever feel safe again with men like this out there? He could be a neighbor, a member of the same church, a schoolteacher or even a pastor.

There was no limit to the possibilities and Ramie already knew the killer looked . . . ​ordinary. Good-looking even. Neat and clean. Precise in his movements and meticulous in his dress.

Most women would find such a man harmless in appearance and would be liable to feel comfortable and at ease around him. He was, no doubt, charming and likeable.