Love on the Edge: Nine Shades of Romantic Suspense, page 141
Her blazing red hair made a wonderful complement to her green dress. She turned and invited him in with a sultry glance. He entered and caught a whiff of her perfume. It was light and clean with an under note of something very sexy. Curious to see just how she lived, he glanced around the unit. The condo was neat, colorful and suited her. “Cool digs.”
“Thanks. It’s small, but I don’t need a lot of room,” she said with a half smile and a glint of passion in her silver gray eyes.
“No pesky roommates to come home and interrupt.” And he was damned glad of it. Yes, the case could wait a few hours, but he couldn’t. He loved that she allowed him inside her home, didn’t imagine many saw her like this. Soft, feminine, and so vibrant and beautiful it hurt.
“Not a one.” She gave him a wide smile, then gestured. “Living room, kitchen…bedroom on the other side of the wall. Compact. No more, but no less than I need.” She walked straight ahead to the kitchen, then opened the fridge. “Beer, wine, bottled water, and Diet Coke. Have a preference?” She turned.
Her skin was like ivory silk, as long as he discounted the few fawn freckles dotting her shoulders. Her dress was made of some summery material with a skirt that floated around her shapely knees. Sheer need shot through his entire body. Her skin. Her eyes. Her lips. God. He wanted her bad.
“Would it be rude if I said I preferred you?”
She lowered her lashes and a pink flush spread up the ivory column of her neck. Her eyes darkened to slate. “Not at all.”
He hardened in an instant and a shudder shook his entire body. He took a deep breath, stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.
“Detective, are you sure?” What he really meant was, Hold on. Are you ready for this?
“Extremely sure,” she murmured against his neck, then reached behind her back and unzipped her dress. It fluttered to the floor in a shimmer of grass green silk, leaving her clad only in a lacy bra and tiny panties the color of her skin.
She pressed her pelvis against his hard-on, then reached for his belt. “I want you. Right now.” Playfully, she tugged him by his belt into her bedroom.
“Happy to oblige.” He unfastened her bra and skimmed his hands underneath. Her breasts were firm and fuller than he expected. Her nipples tightened into small coral pebbles under the caress of his thumbs.
They fell back on the bed, legs tangling and hands pulling at their clothes.
A cell phone rang, actually played some female country western group’s song. “Not mine,” he said. His had a classical ring tone.
“No,” Tess groaned. “It’s mine.”
“I thought you weren’t on call this evening. Don’t answer it.” He slid his hand between her legs where the crotch of her panties was already damp.
He massaged her mound with the heel of his palm.
She moaned, but managed, “Always subject to change at a moment’s notice. This must be big.” She reached over his shoulder and grabbed for the damned cell. “O’Malley.”
He continued massaging her clitoris as she squirmed and tried to keep her tone businesslike. Her silken thighs trembled under his touch.
She shook her head at him, but he wouldn’t stop playing. He slid one finger inside her panties and slipped it in her dewy slit. Eyes glazed, she moved against him and continued squirming.
“How long has he been missing?” she gasped, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at Scott.
He slid a second finger inside her warmth and moved both in and out. He nipped at her neck and massaged her clit with his thumb. She writhed under him as her body heated and tensed.
“No,” she gasped. “I’m fine. Just fine.” She bit her lip and ineffectually hit his shoulder with her fist. “On my way.” She snapped the phone shut. “I should kill you for that.”
“Want me to stop?” He had no intention of stopping until at least one of them came.
“I have to go. There’s—” She shuddered and surrendered, melting into the bed, a tangle of arms and legs.
He ripped off the scrap of lace and bent down to kiss her honeyed sweetness. He circled her clit with his tongue and suckled.
“God, no.” Her nails dug into his shoulders as she arched against his face and screamed with her climax.
He lifted his head and grinned up at her. “So you’re a screamer. Never would’ve guessed.”
She gasped for breath, her breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath. “Didn’t know myself. She reached for his dick, circled it with her hand and drew him to her. “Dammit. I don’t have time for this.”
“Baby, after all this, it won’t take much time.” He positioned himself over her and thrust into her wet core. He mined her warm depths to the hilt. She met him thrust for sweet thrust until his boys felt as if they’d explode. He came in quick hot jets. Her walls contracted around his length and she gasped his name as he groaned hers.
She dragged in a deep breath and tried to sit up. “O-mi-god, that was heavenly, but I have to go to work.”
“Another homicide?”
She gave him the look, the unmistakable one that told him he was less than intelligent, and nodded. “That’s what I do, Holt. Homicide. There’s another kid missing. Seventeen.”
“How long?”
“At least four hours. He was there at lunch when his sister left to go to a neighbor’s.” She shook her head. “Probably already dead. This unsub doesn’t keep his victims alive long. If it’s the same one.”
He stepped into his jeans and zipped them.
“Not the same M.O. Taken from home. But he’s the right age.” She huffed and hurriedly refastened her bra. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“I know.” He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. “By the way, do you know you have a number tattooed on your ass?”
“Of course.”
His expression grew puzzled. “Why a number? Why not a butterfly or a flower?”
“Long story.” She gave a slight huff. “You had to be there.”
With a bare backward glance, she redressed, this time in khakis and a pale blue knit shirt, grabbed her service weapon and purse and ran out the door.
He laid back on her bed and let out a groan. The sheets were rife with the scent of their sex; he let out a groan. Her body, so responsive to his. Her every touch seemed programmed to make him want her more.
She was a hell of a woman and a cop. Let him not forget she was a cop first. Back to reality. He got to his feet and finished dressing. Time to earn his money. Snatched another kid—this time from his home? Damn. If it was the same SOB who killed the governor’s grandson, the guy had big ones. He grabbed his cell and called Paul Whitten.
“Paul? Scott Holt. We’ve caught a break. A confidential source from Metro PD says another teenager’s missing. Ned’s attorney should petition to have him released right away.”
“Thank you so much. How wonderful…not that—”
“Know what you mean. Call Ned’s attorney and hang tight.”
He disconnected.
Even if the M.O. was different, his gut said it was the same psycho who’d already killed at least two.
*
Tess pulled into the latest victim’s subdivision. The streets were lined with vehicles. The local TV stations were represented with their video journalists and recording equipment. Closer to the scene were six patrol cars with flashing blue lights and a forensics van. She parked, flashed her badge at the officer who guarded the perimeter and ducked under the yellow crime scene tape.
“We gonna get ’im, this time, Detective?” The officer’s gaze darted back and forth as he combed the crowd for suspicious characters.
“Sure as hell hope so.” She spied Kozinsky standing in the victim’s yard and hoofed it to his side. A little out of breath, Tess frowned at her partner. “How is it you beat me to every crime scene?”
He eyeballed her as if he knew what she’d been up to. “How come you’re always late?”
She tugged at the collar of her knit shirt. Was it crooked? What had given her away? “If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” she told him with a grin, then glanced down at her clothes. Sure she’d dressed in a hurry, but nothing was showing that wasn’t supposed to.
He smirked, but continued, “Seventeen-year-old kid, athlete. Here at eleven-thirty. Gone when the sister returned home from swimming at a friend’s house. He’s a good kid. Usually leaves a note if he’s gonna be gone for any length of time. They called his cell phone, but found it in the front yard when it started ringing. Parents and sister are inside. The mother’s totally freaking out. Next door neighbor thinks she might’ve seen something. You take her statement, and I’ll finish with the little sister and parents.”
“Sure.” A growing uneasiness swept over her, matching her new mood. “You know it’s been over four hours. He’s probably…”
Kozinsky frowned and kicked loose a divot of sod. “Yeah.”
*
Tess entered the foyer. Her eye for detail noted the expensive bird’s eye maple with walnut-inset floors. Stairs to the second floor on the left. Family huddled together on a sofa in the living room on the right. The mother short, slightly plump with red eyes and a blotchy face was collapsed against her husband’s shoulder. He appeared mid-forties, tall, no excess weight, already losing his sandy red hair. Little sister was a miniature of the mother.
Another woman, blond and petite, flitted around the room, obviously too upset and anxious to sit. Before Tess could ask or even raise an eyebrow, Kozinsky introduced the blonde as Abby Smallwood, the next door neighbor.
Tess half-gestured, half-pointed toward the kitchen. “If you’ll come with me, Ms. Smallwood, we’ll talk in the kitchen while Detective Kozinsky stays with the family.”
She followed the nervous neighbor into a kitchen all tricked out with the requisite granite counters and stainless steel appliances. She pulled out a chair which slid easily on the polished hardwood. “Have a seat.”
Would she ever get anything out of this ditzy blonde? The woman settled, but her blond head continued to bob like a canary on crack.
“Sorry. I’m so fidgety. I can’t seem to sit still.” Blinking rapidly, the woman wrung her hands over and over. Not that Tess could blame her. Who wouldn’t be upset?
“It’s all right.” She dug in her purse and extracted her notebook. “Your full name and address?” Pen poised in mid-air, she waited.
“Abigail Louise Smallwood. I live next door. Thirty-seven Pinckney Place.”
Tess jotted down the demographics. “Now just tell me, in your own words, what you saw and what time.”
Smallwood nodded, then took a deep breath. “Three-thirty—that’s what time I came home—I left work early with a headache,” she explained. “There was a dark van, black—no, might’ve been navy blue—parked in the Hurley’s driveway. Just like any repairman would drive…with a sign on the door.”
“Can you remember what the sign said or maybe part of the phone number?”
The neighbor bit her bottom lip. “Handy…Home…Repairs. Something like that. Anyway, I couldn’t make out the number. I’m not good at remembering numbers anyway.”
“Just try.” She kept her tone soft. Every bit of information the neighbor had stored in her brain was vital. “Think hard. Was it a local number with seven digits or was it longer with an area code?”
The neighbor shut her eyes and frowned with the effort of concentrating. “Long distance. Wasn’t one of the toll-free numbers, either.” Her lids popped open. “Wait. Three-oh-three.” She shook her head. “Sorry, that’s all I can remember.”
An area code. Not much, but something. “That’s excellent. You’re doing extremely well. Now what happened when you drove in the driveway? Did you see anyone at all?”
“I didn’t see Danny if that’s what you mean, but this man jumped from the back of the van, hopped inside and took off—rather quickly I thought at the time. If I’d only known—”
“How tall?”
“Quite tall. And with big shoulders, like one of those pro football players. Well over six feet. My husband’s six-two and this guy is definitely taller.”
“Hair?”
A furrow formed between Smallwood’s brows. “Couldn’t see his hair. He wore a baseball cap pulled down over his face. He wore a navy uniform, recently pressed because the creases were quite sharp. I’m sorry I notice stupid things like that instead of what he looked like. He had a badge clipped to his uniform, but I was too far away to read it. I wish I could be more help. Poor Danny—” She clapped her hand over her mouth.
“No, ma’am, you’re doing great. License plate?”
“I wasn’t paying attention. I really didn’t think much about it, except Bob Hurley is such a do-it-yourselfer I wondered why the guy was there. I mean, Bob can handle just about anything, repair-wise, but I don’t know how he’ll handle something like this.”
“And after the repairman drove off?”
“I went in the house and started supper. I didn’t realize anything was wrong until Jeanette—that’s Danny’s mom—called and asked me if I’d seen him.” She wrung her hands again. “If I’d just called the police when I saw the van…” She gave a sob. “Danny’s probably already dead, isn’t he?”
Although Tess personally agreed, she said, “You mustn’t think that way. We’re working very hard to find him. Everything you tell us is a great help to our investigation.”
Smallwood wiped her eyes. “His mother is devastated. We all are. Danny was…is such a good kid. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“Ma’am, no one deserves something like this. No one.” She swallowed back her emotions, reached into her jacket and pulled out a card, then handed it to the neighbor. “If you think of anything else, call my cell immediately, no matter how insignificant it might seem.”
“Y-yes, I will.” Smallwood pocketed the card. “C-can I go now?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m going distribute the description to the rest of the force and to the media. He made a mistake this time. We’ll find him.”
“This time? Do you think he’s the one who took the governor’s grandson?”
“Actually, too early to tell, Ms. Smallwood.”
Hell yeah, he’s the same one.
*
In the living room Kozinsky sat on an ottoman and gently interviewed the Hurley boy’s ten-year-old sister. “Sophie, what was Danny wearing when you left for your friend’s house?”
The child rubbed the tears from her eyes and sniffed. “I should’ve stayed here with him. He’d be okay.”
“This isn’t your fault, hon. All by yourself—you couldn’t do anything. You’re just a little girl.” He paused. Had to give the kid time to calm down, but time was a-wasting. “Do you remember what was Danny wearing?”
“Cut-offs and a purple and white Father Ryan T-shirt—he pulled it out of the dirty clothes. I told him Mama would be mad, but he said he didn’t care. And his new running shoes.”
Kozinsky’s ears perked on the word shoes. The unsub typically kept one of his victims’ shoes. “Tell me about his shoes, Sophie. What kind were they?”
“New Balance,” she said with a sad little smile. “Danny really, really liked them. They were gray with white trim and a big N on each side. They cost over a hundred and fifty dollars,” she said, beaming with obvious pride.
Mrs. Hurley blushed and reached for Sophie’s hand. “That’s not important, Sophie.”
Kids. Got to love ’em, especially the young ones. “You’re a good girl, honey. You got a good memory.” He turned to Mrs. Hurley and kept his tone gentle. “Ma’am, if you’ll just tell me what time you arrived home?”
She swallowed and started off in a shaky voice. “I didn’t get home until six—I had to stop at Harris Teeters—you don’t care about that, do you?”
“Everything’s important, Ma’am. Go on.”
“Anyway, Sophie was home and I could tell she was sunburned and hadn’t used sun block, so I was fussing about that. Then I asked her where Danny was—he has baseball practice tonight. Sophie told me he was gone when she came home at five. He hadn’t left a note. I checked the den and his room both.”
She ran a trembling hand back through her dark hair. “I started to get an uneasy feeling. A mother knows—we just know—when something’s wrong. So I called his cell to fuss at him for not leaving me a note. And th-then, I heard his cell phone. It was outside in the yard. He never goes anywhere without it.”
She bowed her head and rubbed the forehead with her fingers. I can’t believe I was going to fuss at him and then—”
“Yes, Ma’am. Please, go on. Everything’s important.”
“Then I thought about the governor’s grandson and if someone could get him…” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. After an uneasy moment or three, she composed herself and continued. “I called Abby next door to see if she saw Danny at all when she came home. She told me about the handyman’s van in the driveway. That’s when I freaked out and called my husband. He was already on his way home, and he told me to call the police right away.” She fought tears, then shot a nervous glance at her daughter, then said in a low tone, “This isn’t going to end well, is it, Detective?”
Not unless we can catch the rat bastard in the next ten minutes or so. Not something he could admit out loud. Instead he offered them what he considered the most useless advice ever known to man. “You have to keep a positive attitude. We got on the case quickly. It may not be related to the other case you mentioned.”
He forced his thigh muscles to relax. More than anything he wanted to get out there and find the creep. “Is there anything else? Have you noticed anyone in the neighborhood who didn’t belong? Or at any of Danny’s baseball games?”
Slowly she shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone.”
“What about recent photos? Sometimes a victim is stalked for several days or weeks to get an idea of their schedule. What about pictures taken at the ball park?”
“Yes, my husband took some with his digital camera at the game on Saturday.” She glanced over at her husband with a mother’s undying hope in her eyes. “Didn’t you, Bill?”
