Dakota Meltdown

Breath came only in short, shallow gasps as she held the envelope in her hand. The killer had sent another letter. How did he know where she was?

“You all right?”

Brenna jumped and spun around to see Nick mere inches from her. As he reached for the letter, his chest brushed her, and she gasped, stepping back from him and the smell of leather and aftershave.

“Want me to open it?” He came even closer and the air left her lungs, making breath and speech impossible. Not when he was so near, all she had to do was exhale and their bodies would be touching in ways she’d only dreamed.

“No, I can do it.” She lowered her eyes so he couldn’t see how affected she was. Or how afraid she was for the job she had to do.

He pushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear and traced her jaw with a soft fingertip. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Jensen.”

The urge to lean into him assailed her and she pulled away just in time. “Yes, I do. I’m a cop, Nick. I don’t have time to be scared.” Of killers…or tall, gorgeous FBI agents.

Dakota Meltdown

Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Like the heroine in this story, I was burned severely as a child

and suffered the insecurities of being flawed on the outside.

This book is dedicated to my father and mother, Charles and

Phyllis Hughes, who’ve always loved me unconditionally and treated

me just like my siblings—normal—the best thing they could have

done for me. Without their love and support, I wouldn’t have grown into

the confident woman I am today. A special thanks to my mother- and

father-in-law, Janell and Jerry Jernigan, for giving us a home while we

were in transition and for making it possible for me to continue writing.

Their support helped make this book happen.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

2004 Golden Heart Winner for Best Paranormal Romance, Elle James started writing when her sister issued the Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She managed a full-time job, raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas hill country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you, what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. She loves building exciting stories about heroes, heroines, romance and passion. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at ellejames@earthlink.net or visit her Web site at www.ellejames.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Nick Tarver—An FBI agent determined to stop the killer before another life is lost.

Brenna Jensen—Letters from a serial killer draw her into a search for the man terrorizing her hometown of Riverton.

Stanley Klaus—Brenna’s successful brother-in-law, the mark her mother goads her to aim for.

Alice Klaus—Brenna’s perfect sister. Will she be a target of the murderer?

Chief Burkholder—The Riverton police chief on the verge of retirement, determined to catch a killer.

Victor Greeley—The philandering married man who duped Brenna once. Is he just a cheating husband, or a killer?

Bart Olsen—A man convicted for sexual offenses, he hates Brenna for putting him in prison.

Jason Connelly—The young computer wiz who stalked one of the would-be victims.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One

The killing’s only just begun. Watch them drop now, one by one.

For the past seven hours the words echoed through Brenna’s head. No amount of loud music or talking to herself erased the sound, repeating like a mantra again and again.

When she finally slid her Jeep Cherokee into the driveway of the police station and parked on a hump of ice, she sat for a moment, letting the heater blow warm air in her face. If she’d had any strength left in her arms after the grueling drive, she’d have shaken a fist at the sky.

Yesterday, she’d been fooled into believing spring had arrived with sunshine melting through the mounds of solid ice piled four feet deep outside her town house in Bismarck.

With a sigh, she switched off the engine, pulled her gloves on and wrapped a wool scarf around her face before she stepped out into the storm. The storm that had raged since midnight had dipped its subzero blast as far south as Des Moines.

A native of the northern prairie, she knew better than to count on spring arriving any sooner than April and usually not until May. Her eyes stung and she pulled her scarf higher up over her nose to ward off the bite of the icy wind. Still wired by her hair-raising drive from Bismarck in whiteout conditions, Brenna stomped loose snow from her insulated boots outside the door to the Riverton police station.

The weatherman had predicted snow flurries. But one thing North Dakotans could count on was unpredictable, harsh weather. A trip that normally took her three and a half hours had taken twice as long at half the speed.

In any other circumstance, she’d have waited to make the trip until the storm had passed and the road crew had worked its magic clearing away the foot of snow already accumulated. The forty-mile-an-hour wind hadn’t helped, either. She’d struggled to see the road through the heavy snowfall and fought the gale-force gusts buffeting her four-wheel-drive vehicle all over the interstate highway. But she’d made it.

Stepping through the two sets of doors, Brenna entered the police station. The reviving scent of brewing coffee filled her senses as she divested herself of the scarf and draped it over a hook, followed by gloves, stocking cap and finally her heavy parka. Even the short walk from her car to the building necessitated full snow gear unless she wanted frostbite. The coffee smelled even better without the filter of wool around her nose, and she yearned to wrap her stiff fingers around a hot cup. But first she needed to find Tom.

She planted her hands on the counter and leaned toward the curious young police officer. “Hi, I’m Brenna Jensen. Where can I find Chief Burkholder?”

“That you, Brenna?” a deep voice called out from a doorway beyond the front desk.

Her smile lifted upward as her mentor and old friend Chief Tom Burkholder stepped into the lobby.

When she held out her hand to shake his, he brushed it aside and engulfed her in a bear hug that forced the air from her lungs. God, it felt good to be home, even in such tragic circumstances.

Chief Burkholder set her away from him and stared down into her face. “Did you stop by to see your mother and sister yet?”

“Are you kidding?” She tipped her head to the side and back to loosen the muscles tensed in her shoulders and neck. “As soon as they assigned me to the case, I headed straight here.”

“You’re just like your father—all about the job. We sure miss him around here.”

Her father had died of a massive heart attack two years after Brenna had joined the Riverton Police Department. He’d been so proud of his daughters’ accomplishments, especially when Brenna had chosen to follow in his footsteps. Never once had he bemoaned the fact he didn’t have a son.

She missed her father. They’d understood each other and he’d loved her unconditionally.

“Heard you’re up for a new job in Minneapolis,” the chief said.

“Yeah.” A twinge of guilt nudged at Brenna as if leaving North Dakota was the equivalent of a sin, when so many young people fled the state to find jobs. In her case she had a job, but the new one meant an increase in pay and responsibility, with the downside of being farther away from her family.

“When do they make the final selection?” Tom asked.

“In a week and a half.”

“I’ll keep you in my prayers for the job and this case.” He hugged her again. “You deserve the break.” The chief dropped his hands, shoved them into his pockets and stared down at his feet. “In the meantime, things been happenin’ around here.”

“Did you find the women?”

The chief shook his head, his skin almost as gray as his hair. “No. We had dozens of state police and local citizens combing the countryside all weekend, but the storm…well, you know what it was like. We pulled them in as soon as the weather got bad. No use losing anyone else in that mess out there.”

“Find anything in the victims’ homes?”

“Nothing yet. Only thing we got to go on is—”

“What the good ol’ U.S. Post Office delivered directly to me,” Brenna finished for him. Her mouth set in a bleak line. “I don’t know what to make of it. But I sure as hell plan to find out.”

“One other thing.” Chief Burkholder tugged at the tie already loose around his neck.

Brenna recognized the signs. Chief had more bad news he didn’t want to tell her.

Her lips twisted into a faux smile and she patted his back. “Might as well spit it out.”

With a shake of his head, Chief Burkholder stared hard at her. “We had another woman from town go missing last night.”

As if a heavy clamp pinched her lungs, Brenna fought to breathe normally. “Then the note is coming true. You sure she didn’t go somewhere and forget to tell anyone?”

“No. Her car was still in her garage, her purse on the counter in the kitchen.” The chief chewed on his lower lip. “And, Brenna, since victim number two was from East Riverton on the Minnesota side of the Red River, we notified the FBI. They’re taking charge of the investigation.”

“Great. Let’s hope they don’t hamper our search like the last team they sent.” She walked toward the coffee urn on the side counter and helped herself to a foam cup full of liquid resembling sludge. “I’m beginning to see what ol’ Red McClusky meant when he said, ‘We don’t need no outsiders muckin’ around our neck of the woods.’ I just hope the hell they don’t slow us down.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” a low, rumbling voice sounded over Brenna’s left shoulder.

She froze. Then a wave of heat rose from beneath her turtleneck to fan out into her face. Inhaling deeply, she steeled her nerves and willed her cheeks to quit burning before she faced the voice. “Do you always sneak up on private conversations?”

“Only if it has something to do with the case I’m working.” The man in front of her could have stepped out of an ad for an action-adventure cop movie. In his black leather jacket, black hair falling across his forehead and eyes an intense emerald-green, he was too perfect to be true. The addition of a five-o’clock shadow only made him look better. A perfect male specimen, from a scientific viewpoint.

Science be damned. Brenna didn’t need a perfect man making a mess out of this case. She didn’t need distractions when women were being kidnapped and more than likely murdered in her hometown.

“Nick Tarver.” He held out his hand without smiling or baring his teeth to soften the sharp lines of his face, only those intense eyes staring straight into hers. “I’d hoped for an amicable relationship with the locals while working this case.”

“Special Agent Brenna Jensen, North Dakota Bureau of Criminal Investigations.” Not nice to meet you, she added without voicing. Maybe she was a bit touchy about the subject, but she didn’t need another case screwed up by the FBI or another physically faultless person in her life. Having her sister and her sister’s husband thrown in her face at every chance her mother could get was already enough to make her want to scream. Why couldn’t the FBI send a really ugly, capable agent instead of Nick Tarver?

AS NICK SHOOK HER HAND, he observed the way Brenna Jensen’s forehead settled into a permanent frown. Instead of making her less attractive, she appeared like a fierce kitten ready to pounce on a wolf. And he was the wolf. He almost laughed until a pang of awareness registered in his libido.

This woman who barely came up to his shoulder, with her straight sandy-blond hair and blue eyes, was like the girl next door. Fresh, clean and wholesome. Too small and vulnerable to be a cop. She was the kind of girl a guy could take home to meet his mother. Someone he might have liked knowing, if he hadn’t already sworn off women. And as a potential victim, Brenna Jensen presented more of a liability than an asset to his case.

“Mind if I keep that?” She glanced down at the hand he still held and back up at him, her brows rising. “I’m sort of attached to it.”

He jerked his hand away and stepped back, for a moment off balance and not liking it.

Brenna tipped her head toward the doorway leading to the rear of the building. “Show me where you’re set up and I’ll show you my note.”

“Not yet.”

Her shoulders straightened and she dragged in a deep, slow breath, as if she were preparing to go into battle. “What do you mean, not yet?”

“Before we do anything else, we need your statement.”

The woman let the air out of her lungs. “On one condition.”

Tarver’s brows dipped into a frown. He wasn’t used to negotiating his orders. He opened his mouth to say so, but Brenna beat him to it.

“I keep my coffee.” She gave him a saccharine-sweet smile.

His brows met in the middle before they straightened and he nodded. She’d better not push him. He’d have her out of the building so fast—

Coffee in hand, she sailed toward the door leading to the back of the police station.

He hurried to follow her, falling in step behind her.

Before she’d gone too far down the hallway she stopped so abruptly Nick bumped into her. Her body was soft and feminine, but beneath the layers of clothing, he could feel the steely strength of well-honed muscles.

Her mouth made a small O and then firmed into a straight line as she looked over his shoulder to the man behind him. “Interview room still in the same place, Chief?”

“You betcha,” Tom Burkholder replied.

“Let’s go, Tarver.” With a dismissive glance, she resumed her pace.

“Nick. Call me Nick.” He almost smiled at the cocky little she-devil’s back. He preferred a woman with spunk—but not at work. At work he liked people to follow orders. “Chief Burkholder will take your statement.”

“Whatever. Let’s get this interview over so we can get to work solving this case.”

He stepped around her and led the way through a bank of desks to a room located near the rear of the building. He held the door as the chief entered and Brenna followed. As she passed close enough to touch him, Nick caught the scents of herbal shampoo and fresh snow.

A strange combination of winter and spring. The unbidden impression formed in his mind from just that little whiff, and he brushed it aside. Too much detail about a witness he had no intention of keeping on his team.

Once they were inside the interview room, Nick Tarver closed the door, shutting them in and himself out. He moved down the hall and stepped into the observation room to watch and listen to the interview through the two-way mirror.

Stark and plain, the room was basically empty, with only a heavy metal table and two folding chairs in the middle of the floor. A single, uncovered lightbulb provided enough light to illuminate all four corners.

Brenna circled the room and stopped to stare into the mirror. “Hey, Agent Tarver, can you hear me? ’Cause I don’t want to repeat myself later.”

He fought a sudden urge to chuckle. The woman was annoying, but ballsy.

Chief Burkholder waved toward a chair. “Have a seat, Special Agent Jensen.” Gone was the surrogate-father figure and in his place was the professional police officer.

She set her satchel on the floor and pulled out a photocopy of the note she’d received. “I suppose you’d like to see the copy of the note and the envelope.”

He took the paper and shot a brief glance at it before setting it to one side of the table. “Let’s start at the beginning. Your full name.”

“You know me, Chief.” She glared at the mirror, her fingers tapping a rhythm on the tabletop.

She was impatient and possibly a bit nervous knowing Nick was watching her. He sat in a chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Good. Make her sweat. He was glad he’d chosen to watch instead of interrogate. This way he could study her openly.

The chief’s lips twisted in a wry grin. “For the record, please. You know the drill.”

With a sigh, she quit staring at the mirrored wall and stated, “Brenna Louise Jensen.”

“Occupation—special agent for the North Dakota Bureau of Criminal Investigations?”

“That’s right.” She shot a defiant look at the mirror.

So, she was a criminal investigator. It didn’t mean she’d work with him.

The older man wrote on a tablet and then looked up at her. “Tell me what happened.”

“I found this letter in the mailbox at my town house when I got home from work on Friday.”

Chief Burkholder sat up straight, his pen poised in midair. “Not at work, but at home?”

Nick leaned forward. That was news. He’d assumed she’d gotten it at her office. So the kidnapper knew where she lived.

“Right.”

“And there were no prints?” They knew there weren’t any, but the chief had to put it in the record.

“No.”

“Where was the letter postmarked?” he asked.

“Riverton Post Office.” She sighed. “That’s why I’m here.”

“In your line of work, have you been assigned to cases involving violent criminals?”

Her chin rose as if challenging the man behind the wall. “Yeah. That’s my job.”

The chief scribbled her answers on the notepad before he looked up again. “And Riverton’s your hometown, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” she stated. “It’s where I grew up.”

The chief continued. “Has anyone from Riverton ever threatened you?”

“No,” she said, her fingers drumming against the tabletop.

“Were you ever involved in an incident that would make someone consider you a threat?”

Her hand stilled. “Other than my casework?”

“Correct.”

She hesitated, darting another glance at the mirror as she tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “No.”

Was the hair-flicking a nervous gesture? Was she not telling the chief something? Nick’s gut said yes. What secrets could a criminal investigator have?

Chief Burkholder continued the questioning without delving into her answer. If Nick had conducted the interview, he’d have questioned her further. But she was a cop and probably didn’t think the information was relevant to the case.

When the interview was over, Brenna stood and gathered her satchel and the copy of her note. “Now can we get on with solving this case?”

“Eager, aren’t we?” The chief patted her shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you where they’ve set up.”

Nick left the observation room ahead of Brenna and the chief and beat them to the large conference room. It had been converted to a “war room.” Completely covering one wall was a large whiteboard with a time line sketched out in black erasable marker. Three notches were marked with the names of the missing women and the times they’d been reported missing. Another spot was marked Note.

Now that he had Brenna’s statement, she wasn’t necessary to the case and Nick wanted her out of the station and on her way back to Bismarck.

Although she was another key to solving the case, Nick had no intention of allowing her onto his team. He liked to work with people he knew and trusted. Get in, solve the crime, get out and don’t get involved. That was Nick’s policy and he sure as hell didn’t want to be in this godforsaken, frigid country any longer than he had to. He braced himself for the coming clash of wills with Special Agent Jensen.

The woman topmost on his mind breezed into the war room and tossed her satchel onto the conference table as if throwing down the gauntlet.

Chief Burkholder handed Nick the copy of the note he’d already seen on a blurry faxed copy they’d received around four that morning while Jensen had been en route.

Nick laid the paper on the table and walked over to Brenna. No time like the present. “Thank you for your statement, Special Agent Jensen. We no longer need your services. I advise you to return to Bismarck and lock your doors.”

She stared up into his face for a long moment, her rate of breathing increasing until the air she exhaled blew in a sharp stream out her nose. Then she stepped closer to him, until her chest bumped against his. “I’m an experienced investigator assigned to this case by the state of North Dakota. I’m not running from some jerk who thinks he can pull my chain.”

“Agent Tarver,” Chief Burkholder said and then cleared his throat. “Jensen is one of North Dakota’s best.”

“I don’t care.” Tarver’s eyes never left her face, and his expression remained unbending. “She’s a liability. I can’t focus on the case if I’m playing bodyguard.”

Her face flushed red. “I don’t need your protection. I’ve been in law enforcement for six years. I can take care of myself.”

That she hadn’t backed down impressed him at the same time as it annoyed him. “In case you haven’t gotten the picture, the FBI has jurisdiction and is calling the shots now. You’re off the case.”

“Understand this, Agent Tarver. I will be involved fully in this case, with or without the FBI. I have more at stake here than you or any of your agents. This is my hometown, not yours. Nobody gets away with kidnapping or murder in my hometown.”

“Agent Tarver, Special Agent Jensen is assigned from the state level. She won’t be returning to Bismarck. If you don’t include her on the team, she’ll be working by herself to solve this case. You’d better serve the cause by including her.” Chief Burkholder laid a hand on Nick’s shoulder.

Okay, so the girl had the chief’s confidence. He could admire that, but he didn’t like being forced to accept her on his team. He shook off the chief’s hand and stared down his nose into Brenna’s clear blue eyes. “Get this straight, Jensen, I give the orders. Do you understand?”

For a moment, he thought she would spit in his eye and tell him to go to hell. But her shoulders pushed back and she met his gaze head-on. “I do.”

“Good. Then don’t get in my way.”

“So does that mean I’m a part of the team?”

“I’ll let you know.” For a moment, Nick swam in the depths of her stormy blue eyes. Until he remembered how badly he’d been burned by a woman with blue eyes and why he’d never go there again. “Time’s wasting. We’ve got a killer to catch before he does it again.”

Chapter Two

With Nick’s back to her, Brenna took in several deep breaths to help slow her pulse rate. Although she’d rather launch herself at the man and scratch his eyes out, she knew he had the right to toss her from the team. If she wanted to stay, she had to play it his way. But she didn’t have to like it.

“Let’s look at that letter again.” Chief Burkholder crossed the room and leaned over the table to read aloud, “‘The killing’s only just begun. Watch them drop now, one by one.’”

A chill slithered down Brenna’s spine. “Creepy, huh?”

“Doesn’t sound good.” The chief scrubbed a hand over his face. The lines around his eyes and across his forehead seemed so much deeper than the last time Brenna had seen him. Tom Burkholder had been around a long time. He’d taken over as chief five years ago when Brenna’s father had died of a heart attack. Those years hadn’t been so hard on him, but he was ready for retirement, not for a serial killer on his home turf. “Do you know what the spot is in the middle?” he asked.