Love you to Death

by Shannon K. Butcher

  “Think it’s the Outfit? Trying to hide the identity so prints and dental records are no good?”

  Ed shrugged, pretending ignorance. His gut told him it was more than a Mafia hit, but he had no proof of it yet, so he kept his mouth shut. “Hell if I know. We’ll get forensics out here, see what they can find.”

  “It’s not gonna be much,” said Talley. “She’s been out here for a couple of days, at least.”

  That meant the interval between deaths was shorter this time. A lot shorter.

  It could be coincidence, but Ed wasn’t much of a believer in that, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to sit around with his thumb up his ass while he waited for the next victim to show up and test his theory.

  Like it or not, he had to face the possibility that they had a serial killer on their hands.

  * * *

  Gloria was sure someone was watching her. She could feel his eyes on the back of her neck, making the fine hairs rise up in protest.

  She pulled into the driveway of her new home, thankful that the neighbors on the other side of the duplex had left their porch light on. Her half of the duplex was dark, and her garage was still too full of moving boxes to pull into it, so she had no choice but to walk up to her dark doorway and let herself in with the key.

  With two heavy sacks of groceries on her arm and her backpack slung over her shoulder, it took her several long seconds to wiggle the key in the lock just right.

  The whole time, she kept looking over her shoulder, scanning the darkness for Ken, her ex. She didn’t trust that the restraining order she’d taken out would do anything to keep him away. At least not for long.

  Ken was too arrogant and stubborn to let a piece of paper come between them. She knew that. She also knew that the first time he violated the order, she was going to see to it that he went to jail. Metal bars would keep him away, even if nothing else would.

  And then, finally, she’d be able to relax. She could stop looking over her shoulder every minute and focus on her studies, and her dancing.

  That would certainly make her parents happy.

  Gloria slipped inside, locked the door, and flipped on the porch light. The fact that she was safe and sound inside her home should have made her relax, but it didn’t. That eerie feeling that someone was watching her was still there.

  Maybe it was just nerves. She’d been through a lot these past few weeks, and the stress was probably getting to her.

  As she put her groceries away, the feeling grew heavier until she could no longer ignore it. She grabbed her cell out of her purse and dialed Ken’s number. He picked up on the first ring, as if he knew she’d be calling.

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” she spat at him.

  “Whoa, honey. What are you talking about?” Loud music and chatter filtered through the phone between his words.

  “I’m sick of your games. Why don’t you be a real man and stop slinking around in the dark?”

  “I don’t know what the hell crawled up your ass, Gloria, but I’m not doing any slinking. I’m at the bar with my buddies. Don’t even try to call the cops. There are dozens of witnesses here.”

  More background noise from the bar filled the line. He wasn’t lying. He was at the bar.

  Which meant he wasn’t watching her. Someone else was.

  Gloria hung up, trying to control her breathing. This was ridiculous. She was overreacting—making things up because she wasn’t used to the new place yet. Her mind was playing tricks on her. That was all this was.

  None of her rationalizations helped make that creepy feeling go away. It was like a rabid dog panting on the back of her neck, waiting to attack.

  She had to get out of here and go someplace else. Someplace public with lots and lots of light.

  Elise saw Trent jogging toward her car, and she briefly considered tearing out of the driveway before he could catch up to her. The man was shirtless again, wearing only a pair of khaki shorts, and she wasn’t sure she could stand the distraction right now.

  Instead of running away, she waited for him with her car door open, hoping he’d say what he had to say and then leave.

  He glared down at her, his gaze sliding over her body. It paused briefly at her thighs, then kept on going all the way down to her too-high heels. “You’re not going out dressed like that, are you?”

  Anger flashed just below her skin, making it grow hot. She knew how provocatively she was dressed, and she’d done it on purpose. Men’s tongues loosened up when they couldn’t keep them in their mouths, and Elise wasn’t above using her body if that’s what it took to get information about Ashley. “If that’s what you came to say, then move away from the car. I’m leaving.”

  He didn’t budge. He kept his body in the way of the door, preventing her from closing it. His abdomen was at eye level, giving her an up close view of all those lean ridges. The dome light in her car cast his muscles into stark relief, accentuating how well sculpted he really was.

  The urge to reach out and touch him grabbed ahold of her until she was sure her hands were shaking.

  Thankfully, Trent crouched down to eye level, keeping her from doing something stupid. His hair was damp, and the scent of some manly soap wafted up from his skin.

  He was close. Too close. She could see flecks of gold glinting in his blue eyes, fine lines of paler, sun-starved skin fanning out toward his temples. She doubted they were smile lines, since he didn’t seem the smiling type.

  “I’m not letting you go out like that.” He acted like he had some sort of say in the matter. She wasn’t sure if it was because he always poked his nose into other people’s business, or if it was because she’d allowed him to see her in a moment of weakness earlier.

  Either way, she had to resist the urge to laugh in his face. “You say that as if you have some sort of control over me. My mother’s been dead a long time. I’m not looking to fill the position.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “You’re going to get hurt, snooping around, asking nosey questions, dressed like you’re offering more than you are.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Ah, yes. That’s right. You carry pepper spray.”

  “Want to test it to see if it works?” she asked sweetly.

  “Damn it. Do you think I’m standing out here half dressed because it’s fun?”

  Elise shrugged one bare shoulder and Trent’s eyes darted toward the movement, locking onto it. “I assumed you liked showing off. You seem to do it often enough.”

  “Showing off?” He muttered something low and indecipherable that Elise was likely glad she hadn’t understood. “Would you please just go back inside with me so we can talk about this?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve got a plan. I’m executing it. End of story.”

  “Executing might have been a poor choice of words.”

  He had a point, but it was one she was happy to ignore. “Move out of the way, Trent.”

  “At least let me come with you.”

  She eyed him up and down. “You’re not exactly dressed for the occasion.”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it takes that long to put on some damn clothes and comb my hair.”

  “No. I mean why bother? Why come with me?”

  His lips pressed shut for a long minute as if he didn’t want to say it. “Because it’s not safe to go alone.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of—”

  “And, because I feel responsible.”

  “For what?”

  “Ashley. I should have done a better job of looking out for her.”

  Elise knew how that felt, even if it wasn’t entirely rational. “You were her neighbor, not her keeper.” Not her sister.

  “Maybe, but I knew how scatterbrained she could be. I knew she left her door unlocked most of the time. I knew she was easily distracted and never paid attention to her surroundings. I knew she went to places she s
houldn’t. Just like you’re about to do.”

  She could hear the guilt making his words clipped and harsh—the same kind of guilt she felt for not being here for her sister. It was a horrible feeling, one Trent didn’t deserve to suffer through simply because he was trying to look out for a woman he barely knew.

  In the end, it was his guilt that won her over. If she didn’t let him come and something happened to her, she didn’t want him to feel like it was somehow his fault.

  “Fine. You can come. But don’t you dare try to stop me from doing what I need to do.”

  He rose up to his full height, which put his abs back on display at eye level. “I won’t let you do anything stupid.”

  “Have you seen the shoes I’m wearing? I’d say it’s a bit too late for that.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sally’s Bar was crowded for a Monday night. Or, at least more crowded than Elise had imagined. Maybe it was always like this.

  Based on the decaying brick facade, Elise had expected the place to be a little less like a club and more like a dank little hole where people came to get drunk. Instead, Sally’s gleamed with chrome and glass, giving it a sophisticated industrial vibe that clashed jarringly with the traditional brick exterior.

  Music pulsed from dozens of speakers, and lights flashed in time with the pounding beat. Bizarre, fragmented images glowed along one entire wall of connected TV screens, throbbing along with the music, changing color with the tempo.

  Trent had changed into a tight-fitting pair of jeans and a T-shirt that clung to his chest. He wasn’t as well-dressed as many of the men here, but he looked a heck of a lot better. Sinful, even.

  He carried himself like he owned the place, parting the crowd easily as they made their way to the bar. His hand was warm and solid around hers, giving her something to hold on to as she followed behind him.

  There was one empty seat at the end of the gleaming metal bar, and Trent lifted her up onto the high leather perch before she embarrassed herself by trying to shimmy up there without showing off her underwear. He stood beside her with one hand at the small of her back, looming, glaring at anyone who was close enough to see. The feel of his hand on her bare skin, so warm and unexpected, sent a little thrill racing through her, adding to her already frayed nerves.

  Elise had conducted plenty of interviews in her lifetime, but she’d never done an investigation like this before. Her insides were quaking with nerves, and she had no idea how Trent could stand there completely calm and unfazed.

  He flagged down the bartender and ordered them drinks. He hadn’t asked Elise what she wanted, but it wasn’t as though she was going to drink anything, anyway. Not with her stomach on edge the way it was.

  She opened her purse to pay, but Trent gave her a tiny shake of his head as he reached for his wallet. He gave the bartender a tip big enough to make Elise cringe at the thought of paying him back. She’d already offered her entire retirement fund as a reward for information about Ashley, and that was all the financial padding she had. Freelance reporting made her enough to live on, but just barely. She had to be careful about her spending, and hopping on a last-minute flight from Hong Kong had cost her a fortune.

  There were always credit cards. Debt would be worth it if she was able to bring Ashley home.

  Trent slid his hand up until his arm draped over her shoulders, his fingers dangling down until they were just a hairbreadth away from grazing her breast. Everything about his pose screamed proprietary possessiveness. In the car, he’d told her he was going to put on a show, and that she should play along, but she hadn’t expected anything like this.

  “I was hoping you could help us,” he said to the bartender.

  The man was in his fifties, wearing the clothes and hairstyle of a man half his age. A diamond winked in his left ear, and his shirt was unbuttoned down far enough to show off a thick thatch of chest hair—with gray roots.

  He glanced at the tip, smiled, and said, “What can I do for you?”

  “My lady and I were in here Friday. We met this hot young thing, but she left before I could get her number. Her name is Ashley.”

  The bartender glanced at Elise, then back to Trent. “I don’t catch many names. What does she look like?”

  Trent leaned closer, giving the man a conspiratorial smile. “A lot like my lady. Blond. Light eyes. Great tits. Maybe five and half feet in her fuck-me heels. She’s into threesomes.”

  The bartender’s brows lifted with interest and studied Elise more closely. His beady gaze made her squirm, but she held her ground and went along with Trent’s story. She even found the strength to plaster a vapid smile on her face.

  “I wish I could help you, man. I really do. Sorry.”

  “Were you here Friday?”

  “Yep. I’m always here. You might check with Gus when he comes in Wednesday. He was here Friday, too.”

  Trent nodded. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

  The bartender left to see to another customer and Elise stared at Trent in irritation. “Threesomes?”

  “It was all I could think of. We came in together, and I wasn’t about to leave you unattended for every hairy-assed loser to hit on.”

  “The point of being here is to mingle. Ask questions. I don’t care how hairy their asses are if they were here Friday night.”

  “Fine. Mingle. Knock yourself out. Just stay where I can see you, okay? And don’t let your drink out of your sight.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Trent.”

  “Wearing that outfit here says differently.”

  That was it. Elise was done trying to reason with him. She was here to hunt for information, so she was damn well going to go hunting.

  Gary fed his guests, then bundled himself into his winter coat and pulled a knit hat down over his ears. He would be more comfortable if he put on gloves, but then he wouldn’t be able to feel Wendy’s skin under his fingertips.

  He unlocked the walk-in freezer and sat on the wooden stool beside his wife. He uncovered her head and found her frozen fingertips beneath the sheet.

  “I met someone today,” he told her. “Her name is Gloria. I think you’re going to like her.”

  Her fingers were stiff in his—not at all like they used to be before the accident. He remembered how supple and warm they were as they twined with his, as they slid over his body. How they turned the prettiest shade of pink when he tied her up.

  She had such beautiful hands, just like Gloria.

  Gary had always loved women’s hands. Some men preferred breasts or asses, but he liked hands. They were the outlet of a woman’s creativity, the way she cared for others. They could bring exquisite pleasure, and yet it took so little effort to cause them excruciating pain. So many nerve endings, so many delicate bones.

  Without her hands, a woman was helpless. Gary could see it in her eyes—that moment when she realized what she was missing, that she could no longer create, no longer feel, no longer fight. It was the same look Wendy had given him moments before her death. That one, single look of helpless pain had changed his life.

  “I drove by Gloria’s place on the way home. It’s a little duplex tucked back away from the main roads. She just moved in and hasn’t put up curtains yet. I saw her moving around inside, putting away groceries. There’s a kind of grace about her that you’re going to love.”

  Gary paused, even though he knew Wendy couldn’t respond. It was a habit he’d developed over the years they’d spent together. There was a natural cadence of conversation that flowed between them, and even though she’d been silent for a long time, he still felt his silence was a necessary courtesy.

  “I’m going to go see her again tomorrow. I’ll videotape her so I can show you. I know how much you like that.”

  He slid his finger down her cheek, following the ridge of a cut that had never healed—a cut she never would have had if he’d been more careful.

  Guilt made his finger shake, but he didn’t tell her he was sorry. He wasn’t. She’d gi
ven him a precious gift that night—shown him a side of himself he never would have known about.

  Her death had been both his deepest sorrow and his greatest joy. One day, he’d find a woman to replace her—maybe Gloria—but until then, he’d have to satisfy himself with the imperfect women he kept in the basement.

  Their screams would have to fill that void until his search was over.

  From his view on the balcony at Sally’s, Trent had no trouble keeping an eye on Elise. That sparkling dress made her easy to spot in the throbbing crowd of dancers. She was currently dancing with her third partner, writhing in time with the music.

  Elise McBride was sexy as hell. Each movement was sinuous grace, a blatant invitation to stare. Her compact curves were fluid under that scant bit of fabric, and a couple of times, Trent thought he might have gotten a shadowy glimpse of cleavage—both front and back.

  The music morphed to a different song and Elise pulled her partner from the dance floor toward the booth they shared with two more of her dance partners. Her drink had been left behind at a table with the other two men during the dance. Who knew what they could have drugged it with? Trent had meant to keep an eye on them, but the show Elise had put on had been a potent distraction.

  She shimmied herself into the booth and toyed with her glass. She didn’t drink, even though he was sure she had to be thirsty after all that dancing.

  Maybe she was smarter than he’d thought.

  Not stupid. Desperate.

  The man sitting next to her put his arm around her and slid his fingers over her bare shoulder. Trent knew for a fact how soft her skin was, and he hated it that this guy knew now, too.

  It wasn’t as if he wanted to stake a claim or anything. He wasn’t even interested in dating. It just bothered him that she had to resort to using her body to get information.