“You’ve been exposed to enough crime that you know how to manipulate a situation without being caught.”
God, her touch did things to me I couldn’t explain.
“Maybe,” I started but stopped myself, knowing she hated this question.
“Maybe, what?” She started to unbutton her blouse slowly, and I felt my erection tug in her direction. It had been months since she had let me inside her, and even though it was always on her terms, I didn’t care. Tiffany was a goddess in bed.
“Maybe if I understood why I was doing it, I could process it better.”
Her hand wavered, but she continued to strip.
“Because, Jonah, she’s a bad person, and bad people should be punished for what they’ve done.”
“But what did she do?” I almost didn’t finish the sentence when the side of her breast brushed my thigh. Her fingers made quick work of my zipper, and suddenly I was free and ready. Everything inside me tightened, my stomach coiled with anticipation, and my nails dug into the arms of the chair. Tiffany didn’t like it when I touched her. I had to wait for permission. But this stunning woman came home to me most days and chose me over any other man in the world. I would give up my soul to be hers.
“She took something that was mine.” She leaned forward but stopped right by my glistening tip. “No more questions. You will do it today, and that’s the end of it.”
“Tod—” I sucked in sharp breath when she devoured me to the root. All concern flew out the window as the power of her mouth robbed me once again of rational thinking.
I grabbed the folder from the table and started to Google my next victim. The power of social media allowed me to stalk carte blanche anyone who was dumb enough to believe their profile was secure. Hello, your stupid friends have tagged your whereabouts online. Like right now, you’re at The Dock Side Grill, a popular college hangout. Pathetic people really pissed me off. I searched for a few more minutes before I grabbed my black coat, boots, and screwdriver and headed out to hunt.
Chapter Sixteen
Blake
After a quick flight home, I tossed my suitcase in the corner, stripped down, and headed into my bedroom.
Three weeks in New York to battle my ex was an unexpected nightmare. Thankfully, the court was on my side, and I got clear of the mortgage—and of her.
My own bed never felt so good, and I didn’t remember hitting the pillow.
By the time I rose from my zombie state, it was well into the night. Eleven, to be exact.
I grabbed a cold pizza that Benny had dropped off earlier that day and settled on my couch to stare at the evidence that now took up almost my entire wall.
Blake: Sorry I left so quickly. I hope your neighbors didn’t think I was rude, but I couldn’t miss my flight. Been a rough few weeks. How are you?”
I fell back to sleep staring at the last victim, who was killed while I was away. Krysta Black, thirty-two, blonde, and worked at the college here in town.
I dreamed about how she was murdered. It was intense and soul-crushing. Terror raced across her face as her bare feet pounded the metal on the rooftop. She tried to balance, but it was a long way down, and there was no other way to escape. The rain made it hard for her to see her attacker as he came up behind her and plunged something sharp through her chest from behind, into her lungs, releasing the air and filling the empty space with blood. Each breath she tried to take would drown her that much faster. The killer whirled her around and leaned her body over the edge of the building. The lake flickered back the light from the streetlamps that bounced around from the storm. He was faceless, just a dark spot where his identity would be. She wiggled as he removed her shoes, rubbed something hard down her thigh, and with a quick release, he watched as she disappeared into the black, choppy water.
Beep beep beep.
I woke at six a.m. with a start. It felt like I had been running straight through the night. I tapped my alarm on my phone and rubbed my sore head.
Hmm, something bothered me. I pulled up Spencer’s neighbor’s number.
Blake: Hey, Kim, have you seen anything unusual at Spencer’s house?
Kim: No, she’s been very quiet, but her deadline for the next book is soon. You know how she is. Where have you been?
Book? I was lost.
Blake: Good, just checking in. I spent the last few weeks dealing with some crap in NYC.
Kim: I’m sure she’ll be happy when she hears you’re back.
The doorbell rang, and I peeled myself off the couch and shuddered at the congealed pizza beside me. I really needed to shower. I felt like a bum squatting in someone’s house.
“Detective Daniels?” A rookie officer held a box out to me. “Sergeant wanted me to hand deliver this to you. It’s from CSI.”
“Thanks.” I snatched the box and glanced at the label. I noticed the kid was staring at my appearance. “This is what you have to look forward to.” I chuckled as I shut the door on his stunned face.
After a much-needed shower and a change of clothes, I headed over to the counter and tried to get my head back in the game.
With a knife, I carefully opened the box and removed its contents. Files, photos, reports on everything, including stomach contents and family information. I made quick work adding it to my collection.
I stood back and looked at my handiwork. Christ, I looked insane sometimes, but shit, I needed to see it all laid out in front of me.
“Okay, so…” I whispered out loud.
Shoes were missing, never robbed, never raped, and never any witnesses. Left in different places, but always within a few feet of Whiskey Lake.
“There’s a pattern.” I rubbed my face, beyond tired. “There’s always a pattern.”
The fire cracked and popped while my head fought for the answer.
I was good at my job. No, I was great at my job, but these murders didn’t make any sense. Or was I lost down a rabbit hole and didn’t see it? The murders were so clean, nothing was left behind. Whoever it was, he was good at covering his tracks. Or she, I thought, but it didn’t work for me.
Fuck. I rubbed my head as the one thought I kept trying to avoid hit me in the face like a cold slap. With a Sharpie, under possible suspects I scribbled the words, “police officer?”
I hated to think it, but given the evidence, we might be working with a professional. Whether it be an old serial killer who had just resurfaced or an officer with a beef. The fact was evidence didn’t lie.
I whirled around in a daze and caught sight of my brother’s farewell gift. The bottle sat on the counter, and the smooth amber liquid begged me to taste. I didn’t drink a lot, but Henry had bought me a factory bottle of brandy, and now seemed like the perfect time to break its seal.
I blew the dust out of my one and only scotch glass and poured myself a double—maybe a double and a half. I was feeling generous.
My body finally relaxed by the second glass, and I could focus on one victim at a time and broke down their family history and similarities.
The two women went to the same dry cleaner, but the third woman didn’t use a cleaner at all. Come on…
I pulled my laptop out of my bag, opened Google, and searched the local newspapers for similar murders.
“You know, I could attack you right now,” Spencer broke my concentration, “and win.” She pushed the screen door open and stepped inside, closing the main door behind her. “Seriously, Blake, it’s freezing outside.”