by Linda Berry
Courtney’s ride to school would allow Lauren to hit the sack without stopping for breakfast. She stripped off her clothes, fell into bed, and slept fitfully until one thirty p.m. She tumbled out of bed, showered, and dressed. As usual, Sofie had left the kitchen immaculate. Grabbing a banana for breakfast, she left the house to run errands.
The patrol car was dropping her daughter off in front of the house when Lauren returned. Courtney followed the Jeep into the garage and helped Lauren carry in groceries. Lauren set her bags on the counter and felt a jolt when she spotted a bowl and spoon in the sink. She froze. Catching her daughter’s eye, she put a finger to her lips and motioned for Courtney to leave the house. Lauren followed. They got in the car, backed out of the driveway onto the street, and parked in front of the house, leaving the garage door open.
Lauren called Sofie, who confirmed she had not been in the house since morning. Lauren then dialed the station and spoke to the lieutenant. She pulled out her Glock, held it loosely on her lap, and waited. A unit arrived within minutes.
“Courtney, stay in the car. Lock the doors.”
Sergeant Birenski and his partner, Sally Gifford, met Lauren in the driveway and she led them inside. They searched the rooms thoroughly, careful not to touch anything. As she suspected, the house was empty, but someone had been there, leaving the bowl and spoon in the sink as a calling card.
Jack Monetti arrived soon after, followed by two crime scene investigators, and Lauren and Courtney did a more detailed walk-through with them. Nothing else appeared to be out of place until Courtney reached her bathroom. “Mom, the hamper cover is open.” She crossed the floor and peered inside. “It’s empty.”
Her meaning quickly registered. “Tomorrow’s laundry day,” Lauren said. “The hamper should be full.” All her daughter’s dirty clothes were gone.
“Anything else missing in here?” Jack asked.
Courtney did a fast sweep of the linen cabinet and drawers. “Nothing else seems to be missing.”
They retreated to the kitchen. “No point in you two sticking around,” Jack said to Birenski. “I’ve got this handled.”
With a nod, Birenski and his partner left.
Sullen and withdrawn since her arrival home, Courtney turned to Lauren. “We’re not going to stay here are we, now that he’s been in our house? It’s contaminated.”
Lauren felt a hot flush of anger. She wasn’t about to be chased out of her home, but she also had to think of her daughter’s safety.
Before she could answer, Courtney appealed to Jack. “Will you stay over tonight, Captain Monetti?”
Lauren knew it was an enormous imposition, but she couldn’t resist adding a pleading glance.
He grinned. “Sure, but only if you help me make hotcakes in the morning. Deal?”
Courtney nodded, looking relieved.
“Can I talk you two into sharing a pizza?” Jack asked. “They’ll be working in the house for a couple hours. We can get out of their way.”
“That’d be great.” Lauren spoke for both of them. She nudged Courtney.
“Thank you, Captain Monetti.”
They crossed town in his Toyota Sequoia to a quiet Pizzeria in North Beach. Jack let Courtney choose the pizza, a no-frills pepperoni and cheese. Lauren had no appetite. She sipped wine and made mindless small talk while Courtney and Jack devoured the pizza. When they left the restaurant, Lauren felt heady from the alcohol and was grateful for the firm hand Jack placed under her elbow. On the ride home, the topic of The Strangler could no longer be ignored.
“You know, Mom,” Courtney said from the back seat, “I don’t think this is the first time he’s been in the house.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Remember the day I came home, and you were talking in your sleep?”
“Yes ….”
“The front door was unlocked. I thought I heard it shut when I walked into the kitchen.” A little quiver in Courtney’s voice betrayed her fear. “I checked out the front yard, but no one was there. Then I heard a car engine start down the street.”
“Did you see the car?” Jack asked.
“No. I didn’t think much about it at the time.”
Lauren and Jack exchanged uneasy glances. Her thoughts drifted back to that afternoon, and she felt the slow burn of anxiety in her stomach. She remembered being alone in the house, lying in a dazed stupor from Ambien and pain pills. A shadowy figure appeared in her room, whom she imagined was Ken, then Steve. At the time, she reasoned it had been a dream, but now she considered the real possibility that Steve’s killer had invaded her bedroom, and stood over her for some time, watching her fitful sleep. Worse yet, she threw open the covers and invited him into her bed. He didn’t touch her, but he laid inches away, body rigid, staring at the ceiling, arms crossed over his chest like a corpse. It unnerved Lauren that the cold-blooded predator had been so close, so intimate, in her house when her daughter came home.
“We went out to eat that night,” Courtney continued. “We left through the garage. I forgot to lock the front door. Maybe he came back, Mom. Maybe that’s when he put the note in my book.”
“A perfect opportunity,” Jack said.
Lauren reached over the seat and took her daughter’s hand, held it tightly, silently berating herself for wallowing in misery at her daughter’s expense. “I think you’re right. I think he was in the house that day.”
“We’ll get through this together, Mom,” Courtney said with a protective air that touched Lauren deeply. “Just like we got through Dad’s death.”
Lauren caught Jack’s expression of deep concern. He pulled into the driveway at eight p.m. The CSI unit had left, leaving all the lights blazing in the house. The three entered the kitchen and automatically fell into a routine that helped dilute The Stranger’s ominous presence.
Jack and Courtney gravitated to the nook. Lauren put a plate of fudge brownies on the table and a glass of milk for Courtney, then opened a bottle of Merlot, and poured wine into two long-stemmed crystal glasses. Jack accepted with appreciation. He clinked Courtney’s milk glass and made a silly toast to the recent victory of the Forty-Niners. Lauren didn’t follow sports, but it was comforting to act out normal behavior. Inevitably, they resumed their unpleasant but necessary topic of conversation.
“What was in the hamper?” Lauren asked.
Courtney thought for a while. “The usual. Dirty gym clothes, t-shirts, underwear. I don’t think he got any good stuff, like my Guess jeans.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s so disgusting that he would steal my dirty clothes.”
It was disgusting, and terrifying. It fit his MO. The Strangler was a souvenir taker. “Tomorrow we’ll go through your closet and drawers. Make sure nothing else is missing.”
“Okay, Mom.”
Courtney and Jack polished off the plate of brownies. Lauren was tipsy from drinking wine on an empty stomach. She stifled a yawn.
“You need to go to bed,” Courtney said. “I’ll make up the couch for Captain Monetti.”
“That’s okay, hon. You turn in. Jack and I can do it.”
Courtney pecked her mother on the cheek, and to Lauren’s surprise, gave Jack a playful punch on the arm before leaving the room. Lauren felt deeply indebted. His steadying presence had been reassuring in a time of tumult. He had no obligation to be here. Birenski had called him at home, yet he raced right over and took charge of the situation. Bonds between people, she knew, grew stronger under duress.
As the hour ticked by, she found herself talking to Jack at a deeper level, about herself and her recent challenges with Courtney. He spoke of his son and the difficulties of sharing custody with a conflict-oriented ex-wife. As they finished the bottle of wine, they spoke of future dreams, things they wanted to do, places they wanted to visit. Jack had a desire to travel the world and go places far off the beaten path. She wanted to hike through every national park in the country. “And I want to take cooking lessons,” she said wistfully. “Maybe in Fran
ce. I want to graduate from spaghetti and burgers to dishes I can’t even pronounce.”
“Like Cassoulet au Canard, and Cherry Clafoutis?”
“What?”
“Duck casserole and cherries cooked in custard batter.”
“You cook?”
“Guilty as charged. It’s a passion.” His eyes sparkled with good humor.
She grinned, impressed.
Lauren got out clean sheets and a blanket and met Jack at the two sofas facing each other in the living room. “Your pick.”
He chuckled, gesturing with his hand. “Easy choice. This one’s a foot longer.”
She felt lightheaded as she billowed the sheets over his makeshift bed. The wine buffed down the sharper edges of her anxiety and induced a feeling of remoteness. With the linen smoothly flattened, Jack sank onto the cushions. “Good. Not too firm. Not too soft.” He glanced up at her, grinned. “Just right.”
“Mi casa es su casa.”
“Gracias.”
“I put a toothbrush in the bathroom for you, and clean towels.”
“Appreciate it.”
Lauren plopped down next to him, her body lightly touching his. “Relax. Take your shoes off.” Setting the example, she kicked off her loafers and rested her bare feet on the coffee table.
Jack followed suit, positioning his feet next to hers. They sat quietly talking, and when he took her hand in his, it felt comfortable and natural. As he spoke, she admired his squared chin, angular cheekbones, and the lines of wisdom radiating outward from his eyes when he smiled. And she liked the smell of him. A hint of sandalwood in his aftershave. His rugged masculinity stirred the softer side of her nature. Their eyes met and she got a little lost in his baby blues. He lowered his head, kissed her sweetly.
“That was nice,” she murmured.
His next kiss was deeper, warm and exciting. She kissed him back, hungrily.
“Whoa …” he said huskily, pulling away. “Slow down. Be gentle with me. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe it’s time you went to bed.”
“Only if you come with me.”
A long silence stretched between them, his warm hand resting on her thigh.
“I don’t want to be alone, Jack. Not tonight.”
Jack’s expression softened. She stood and took his hand. They padded quietly down the hall to her room and she locked the door behind them. The room was cool and steeped in shadows. A slight breeze teased the curtain, diffusing the moonlight falling through the window.
Immediately, they began freeing each other of clothing, leaving a trail to the bed. Lauren lay back against the pillows and pulled Jack down beside her. His hands explored the contours of her body in warm, savoring caresses. His kisses were assertive, unapologetic. Swept away in deepening pleasure, she was only conscious of an intense need to satisfy, to be satisfied. Passion transported her far away from the frightening world of victims and predators.
Damp with perspiration, she rested in Jack’s embrace, feeling thoroughly loved and satisfied. Sometime during the night, she woke to find him gone. She buried her face in the musky smell of his pillow and fell back into a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
DULL PAIN was pressing against the inside of her skull when Lauren woke. As her awareness sharpened, everything came rushing back. The Strangler in her house, Courtney’s stolen clothes, Jack coming to their aid, then dinner, wine, and their lusty romp in bed.
Memories of lovemaking warmed her, followed by a cold, stinging slap of reality. Her eyes opened wide. What had she done? While Courtney slept just down the hall. Her good sense had been hijacked by her libido. What was Jack thinking of her this morning?
Smelling of sweat and sex, she got out of bed, waited for a wave of dizziness to pass, and quickly stripped off the sheets and stuffed them into the hamper. She swallowed two aspirin and took a long, hot shower, trying to scrub her stupidity off with soap and water. Emerging from the steamy room in her terrycloth robe, her eyes scoured the bedroom. She snatched her panties and bra off the floor and checked the wastebasket. A used condom. Evidence.
Her door opened and Courtney poked her head in. “Hi, Mom,” she said in a cheery tone. “Breakfast is ready. Captain Monetti and I are waiting for you.”
“In the kitchen?” Lauren yanked the plastic liner from the wastebasket and tied it in a knot.
“That’s where we usually eat. You okay?” Courtney’s eyes traveled from the bed to the wastebasket. “You’re awfully tidy this morning.”
“Yeah, well, I thought I’d get an early start. Let me get dressed. I’ll be right out.”
“Hurry. We’re hungry.” The door closed.
Lauren pulled on jeans and a sweater, ran a comb through her damp hair, and went to the kitchen. She found Jack standing over the stove, dressed, showered, sporting a day-old beard, looking perfectly at home flipping hotcakes on the griddle. Courtney sat at the table pouring orange juice into glasses. Tango was basking in the nook in the warm morning sun.
“Good morning,” Jack said, good-natured.
Feeling her cheeks redden, she mumbled a greeting, took a cup from the cabinet, and moved to the coffee pot.
“I already poured you a cup,” he said, nodding toward the table.
“Oh … thanks.”
“All right, then. We’re ready for the feast.” Jack carried a platter of hotcakes and crispy bacon to the table.
“Mom, come sit down.” Courtney patted the bench seat beside her.
Hotcakes, bacon, butter, and maple syrup were passed around. Jack and Courtney indulged liberally while keeping up a running stream of conversation. Lauren ate in silence, marveling at Jack’s ability to hold her daughter’s interest. He occasionally glanced inquiringly at Lauren, as though expecting her to join in.
“You okay?” he asked quietly when Courtney crossed the kitchen to refill Lauren’s cup.
“Yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking about what to do with Courtney.”
“What do you mean?” Courtney asked, returning to her seat with a puzzled expression.
“I thought you could stay with Grandmom Ann for a while.”
Courtney frowned. “Why?”
“Because of what happened yesterday.”
Courtney sank into her seat and crossed her arms. “You think I’m leaving you here alone?”
Jack cleared his throat. “Look, I should have mentioned this last night. I’m going to station a detective outside your house around the clock.”
Lauren sighed. “That’s not the answer, Jack. Courtney can’t live in a glass bubble. At Mom’s, there’re always a lot of people around. They have a security system. She’ll be safe.”
“I’m not going. I’m staying with you, Mom.”
Lauren saw the bold determination written on her daughter’s face.
Courtney tossed Jack a pleading look.
“It’s none of my business,” he said hesitantly. “But ….”
“You’re right, Jack,” Lauren said coolly. “It’s not.”
A shadow crossed his face.
Courtney glared.
Lauren’s thoughts were in a jumble. She knew she was being unreasonable, but the course of action she had set in motion was unstoppable. The only thing coming through clearly was her need to protect her daughter. “Courtney, we’re going to look through your room, see if anything else is missing. Then we’ll pack a few things. I’ll instruct the officer to take you to Grandmom’s straight from school.”
“Mom, please.”
“I’ve made up my mind.”
Strained silence.
“Can Tango come?” she asked, defeated.
“I’ll ask your grandmom.”
Tension enveloped them for the remainder of the meal. Courtney’s lackluster expression matched Jack’s perfunctory tone as they attempted conversation. As delicate as a bulldozer, Lauren saw she had done a great job of sucking the fun out of the morning. But she did what was needed. Courtney pushed her plate aside
and left the table cradling Tango. Jack stood and started helping her clear the dishes.
“Leave it.”
“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Last night was a mistake, Jack.”
He studied her for a long moment. “I think you’re wrong about that.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Not now.”
Jack looked perplexed. “Last night, I guess I misread ….”
“It’s not your fault. I drank too much.” She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “I was scared. I wanted to forget … everything that happened.”
Uncomfortable silence.
“It wasn’t an easy night,” he finally said.
She crossed her arms tightly against her chest.
“I know you’re scared,” he said quietly. “And you’re hurting. But don’t make me the enemy. You need a friend right now.”
“What I need is space to get my head on straight.”
A strained silence lengthened between them.
“Okay, Lauren. I get the picture,” he said gently. “Take all the time you need. I’m just a phone call away.” He pulled his coat from the back of his chair and walked out of the room. The front door shutting behind him accentuated her sense of aloneness, and helplessness.
***
Lauren blew off steam at the firing range, walled in her cubicle, earmuffs subduing the explosive cracks from her Beretta. Her aim was off its mark. Too much finger on the trigger. Not what it should be with The Strangler targeting her and Courtney. She had to be prepared for anything. The bastard had killed her partner, invaded her home and privacy, and forced her daughter from the house—systematically eroding everything she held dear.
Her thoughts turned to Jack and she tried to decipher her feelings. Why was the notion of having him in her life so frightening? Fear of loss? Ken died. Steve died. Violently. Was she pushing Jack away before she got too attached? Before she lost him too? No doubt, guilt played a part. Last night she deceived her daughter by inviting a man into the most intimate sanctity of her life, without giving either of them time to adjust. She and Jack hadn’t taken the time to date, to get to know one another. She had gone from first base to home plate in one breathtaking play.