Page 78 of Ace of Spades
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The address was a small ranch-style house in North Miami. Their backup team evacuated the residences on both sides of their target house and had secured the premises.
“No one will blame you if you sit this one out,” Nate said quietly at her side.
Taylor bit back her first retort. He wasn’t saying she wasn’t capable of being a part of this operation. “I’m good.” She’d had to fight to be in on the arrest, arguing that after what their perp had put her through, she had a right to be here. Nate had seemed to understand that, and after getting a nod from Rothmire, he’d agreed. And considering the whole team was here, she didn’t doubt they were all keeping an eye on her.
“Then let’s do this.”
Court and Alex were stationed at the back to make sure Tompkins didn’t try to run. She, Nate, and Rand approached the door. They split up, Rand on one side, her and Nate on the other.
Nate fisted his hand and banged on the door. “FBI. Open up!” When there was no response, he banged again, repeating the words.
There wasn’t any noise coming from inside, no TV or radio blaring, no car parked in the carport. She sensed the house was empty.
“There’s a sliding glass door in the back that I can jimmy open,” Alex said, his voice coming over their headsets.
“Do it,” Nate answered. “Station yourself at the corner of the house, Rand, so you can warn us if a car pulls in. Taylor, come with me.”
She followed Nate to the back. Alex had the door open by the time they walked up. Guns drawn, she, Alex, and Court entered behind Nate, splitting up to search the house. Taylor and Nate ended up in the kitchen.
“Does he ever cook in here?” She glanced around. The electric stove was spotless, as were the counters and sink.
“Doesn’t appear so,” Nate said, peering inside a cabinet.
She opened the refrigerator, eyeing the contents, or more like the lack of contents. Other than a dozen bottles of water, a plastic bottle of milk, ketchup, a bottle of hot sauce, and a tub of butter, it was empty.
The freezer was loaded, though. She doubted he could squeeze another frozen dinner into it. So he lived on microwaved food. Moving to the small pantry, she frowned. The only things on the shelves were video cassettes. Who used those anymore? She tilted her head, reading the titles.
“Nate, you need to come see these.”
Seconds later, he stepped behind her. “What?”
She moved aside so he could see into the pantry. “Taxi Driver,The Killer Inside Me,The Machinist, to name a few, and one with the handwritten title ofSnuff Film,” she said. They were in the middle of a search. She shouldn’t be intentionally brushing her arm over his.
His gaze landed on where their arms touched, and then he lifted his eyes to hers. An entire butterfly farm came awake in her stomach, fluttering their wings in response to the heat in his eyes. But she remindedherself that she’d put them back in friends-only status, although the butterflies apparently hadn’t gotten that memo. She’d have a stern talk with them once he was no longer invading her senses.
He turned his attention to the shelves. “The snuff film’s probably a fake. Most of them are, but we’ll have to check it out, make sure.”
“Yeah, if it’s real, it will open up a whole new investigation.”
“Nate, you need to come see this,” Court said from the hallway.
More murder tapes? When she tried to follow Nate into one of the bedrooms, Court put a hand on her arm.
“Maybe you should wait here,” he said.
There was something in his voice that gave her pause, but she shook him off. “Not happening.” She was here to do her job, not be coddled. When she walked into the room, the air left her lungs.
“The hell?” She knew the bastard was stalking her, but to see pictures of her at different ages wallpapering one wall—along with ones of her walking the girls to school—caused a burning rage like she’d never felt before to roar through her bloodstream.
“My girls,” she whispered. “I’m going to kill him.”
A growl sounded low in Nate’s throat. “If I don’t get to him first.”
She wanted to yank all the photos off the wall, but until they caught Wayne Tompkins, they would have to stay. “This is so creepy, Nate. He’s been stalking me since my mother was killed.”
Her stomach churned at seeing herself through the years, at recess on the playground, getting off the school bus, playing in her yard at home, and on and on. There was even one of her at her high school graduation in cap and gown. Rosie had taken her away to keep her safe, but it had been an illusion. He could have stolen her away at any time. Why hadn’t he?
