Why hadn’t she heard that clank on the floor last night? Something else was next to it. She reached for it, flipped the leather over in her hand, and froze. Her heart started pounding, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She was panting and her hands trembled.
Holy shit! She dropped the badge, forgot about her socks, and rushed out of the bedroom and down the stairs on tiptoe, skipping the fifth step from the bottom. When she reached the last step, she paused, sucked a deep breath and exhaled through her nose. She had forgotten all about him being the law. It was that kiss. “That damned kiss!”
“A cop. A gun-toting, badge-carrying cop,” she panted out, holding onto the rail with a white-knuckled grip. “A criminal in disguise.” In her mind, all cops were bad. All cops were criminals. Hadn’t she experienced enough at the hands of the police, the people sworn to serve and protect. Who were they protecting? What had her mother done to deserve to be killed?
She had asked that question and many more at age eight when her mother was murdered, and again at age sixteen when a cop killed her adopted grandmother. Since that day, she kept her nose clean, obeyed every traffic law, and did everything she could to avoid the police. Now, one of them was in her bed.
“So much for staying under the police radar,” she mumbled and took the last step down. On her way into the kitchen, she stopped by the living room and picked up the ice cream container from the night before. “So much for a little self-indulgence,” she muttered, tossing the soggy pint into the trashcan.
In the kitchen, she made coffee, sat at her four-person maple table and stared sightlessly at the mug she held in one hand while the other hand propped up her head.
“What the hell have I done?” She poured a small amount of cream into her coffee and swirled it with a finger. She had gotten involved with a cop. The enemy. Correction, she had gone to bed with a cop. Not involved. Not yet. Not ever.
“What had I been thinking?” Oh, that’s right, I hadn’t been thinking. Instead, her hormones had done the thinking for her. Just because the man looked hot in a pair of jeans and kissed her like the balance of his entire existence centered on it, that she was able to feel passion start in her lips and travel through her entire body making her temperature rise several degrees and her toes curl did not mean she had to sleep with him.
“Like there had been any actual sleeping,” she murmured before taking a sip of her coffee.
How had it all even happened? The night before she came home and changed into sweats, curled up on the sofa to eat a pint of her favorite ice cream all by her lonesome. Then…
“That was it.” She snapped her fingers. She made the mistake of answering the persistent pounding at her front door. Leaning her head back, she blew hair out of her eyes. What had she been thinking? She never just opened the door. Not without checking the peephole.
“Shit.” She hadn’t even had the alarm turned on. What the hell was wrong with her? That was the first time in years, too many years to count that she had done that. She must have lost her mind. That was the only explanation.
“Cooper.” It was all his fault. He had smiled at her, took one bite of her chocolate ice cream, and then nibbled on her. All night.
Hearing the creak on the step, Jane sat up straight, held the mug in both hands and kept her eyes averted from the doorway.
“Smells good.”
Heat rushed through her body at the sound of his deep delicious voice. “There’s a mug and a fresh pot of coffee.” She gestured with a wave of her hand to the cup and coffee pot sitting on the counter.
“Thanks,” he said and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
A kiss to her forehead? What was that? She wasn’t his kid sister. Was he trying to get a rise out of her? Couldn’t he take the hint when she didn’t make eye contact?
Jane glanced up only far enough to watch his tight ass in snug black jeans walk across the kitchen. It should be illegal for a man to look so scrumptious in denim. After pouring a cup of coffee, he leaned against the counter and her eyes latched on to the line of dark hair on his abdomen that slid beneath his unbuttoned waistband. The sight of him ignited the banked sexual desire— Again. Like three times had not been enough? Okay, if she had to be honest with herself she might as well admit that those three times were phenomenal, fantastic, and earth-shattering.
But—with a capital B—that did not mean she should have had sex with him. He is one of the bad guys. Even if he is on the side of the law, there were, and are, plenty of corrupt police. She should know. She saw it in action when she was eight years old and again when she was sixteen. And she’d been running from the law ever since.
“Ahem.”
Licking her lips, she tore her gaze from the waistband of Cooper’s dungarees. The twitch of his mouth and the spark in his steel-blue eyes told her he knew exactly where her eyes had been fastened. Damn! Quit thinking with your hormones, she scolded herself.
“Regrets, recriminations, or do you always talk to yourself in the mornings?”
He shoved away from the counter, reached out, and stroked the nape of her neck.
“I need a shower.” He set his mug on the table. Putting hers aside, he tugged her to her feet. Desire burst into flames of lust as his lips, warm and moist pressed against hers. “Want to conserve water and take one with me?”
Without giving her a chance to reply, Cooper scooped her up in his arms and swung her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
Well, shit! How could she turn down a man who wanted to conserve energy and natural resources?
* * * *
He was stumbling out of the shower with Jane wrapped around his waist when his cell phone rang. When she tried to extricate herself from his arms, he only tightened his grip and took the closest earlobe in his teeth. “Ignore it. Whoever it is will go away,” he muttered.
She responded by biting his shoulder and nibbling her way up to his ear. Oh! The things she did with her tongue. With Jane draped in front of him, he staggered into the bedroom where he flopped down on top of the unmade bed, Jane on top of him.
His cell phone sounded off again. This ringtone he could not ignore. “Shit!” Not wanting to dispel Jane and her hand ministrations, he cupped her ass in his hands, held her in place, and scooted so he could reach his pants that lay pooled on the floor next to the bed. With one hand stroking Jane’s ass, he reached into his pocket and fished out his phone.
When he hit the button, Jack’s voice boomed out of the headset. “Where the hell are you? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. He struck again.”
“What?” His muscles tightened and he wasn’t certain whether it was because Jane had just taken him in her mouth or because Jack just informed him that the Street Corner Rapist had attacked another woman.
It didn’t matter because Jane must have sensed his mood change. She sat up from her position and stared at him with chocolate eyes filled with concern. He cupped her cheek with his free hand and stroked the smooth skin with the pad of his thumb. Her eyes gleamed and she kissed the palm of his hand in solace.
“Coop! Coop, are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“She’s dead.”
“What?” Letting his hand drop from Jane’s face, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Dead?”
Jane’s head shot up and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. She sat up, straightened away from him and pulled the covers up in front of her in some kind of shield. Shit! He had brought his job to her home and now fear had entered her beautiful eyes and she was pulling back from him.
“Yes, dead. Beaten the same way as the others then strangled. At least that’s the way it looks. Won’t be positive until the medical examiner gives a ruling.”
“Where?” He searched around for something to write on.
As if reading his mind, Jane reached into a nightstand and extricated a small pad of paper and a pen. He mouthed the words, “Thank you,” then took the pad and paper and scribbled Jack’s instructions.
“I’m on my way.” He ended the call and ripped the page from the little notepad before handing it and the pen back to her.
“I’m sorry. Truly sorry.” Coop cupped her cheeks in his large hands before she could retreat. He kissed her cheek and then pressed his mouth to hers in a gentle, sweet caress. “I’ll make it up to you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t—”
He covered her mouth with his blocking any response she could offer. He would make it up to her whether she wanted him to or not. They had just begun to know each other and he intended to get to know her better. When the kiss finished he slid off the bed and tugged on his clothes. As he hooked his belt, he glanced up to see Jane sitting on the bed, the covers pulled up in front of her.
He felt like such a heel leaving her like this. “Should I call you or just stop by when I can?”
“I don’t think we should see each other again,” she offered in a gentle tone.
He began to laugh then quickly stifled the sound when he saw her set jaw. She was serious. “Jane, I’m sorry for this. I don’t usually wham bam, th—”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?” he asked as he squatted to strap his clutch piece to his ankle and pull his pants leg back down. When he straightened to hook his badge to his belt, he looked up at Jane and froze. She had gone pale and wasn’t moving except for her chest that heaved in and out in as if she couldn’t catch her breath, her gaze glued to his waist.
“Jane, what is it?” She didn’t respond. “Are you okay?” He cupped her shoulders and gave them a little shake. “Talk to me. What can I do?”
He bent down in front of her, took her cheeks in his hands and spoke in a gentle yet commanding tone. “Breathe. Just one breath at a time.” She inhaled then exhaled through her nose. “That’s it. Again. Take another deep breath. Good,” he offered when her pulse slowed and she blinked at him.
“I’m okay,” she said and shoved at his hands. “Really.”
He continued to hold her face. “One of these days you are going to explain what causes the anxiety attacks. For now, you’re off the hook because I have got to go chase down a bad guy.” He dropped a quick peck on her lips and then stood. “You get a reprieve.”
Jane opened her mouth and he held a finger to her lips, cutting off any argument she could offer. “If you don’t tell me I will find out on my own. It’s what I do. I investigate.” He winked at her. “And I’m good at it.”
He kissed her one more time then spun on his booted heel and moved toward the bedroom door where he paused and glanced back.
“How come you don’t have a door on the closet?”
“Huh?”
“The closet. Why is there no door?”
“Um.” She gnawed the inside of her lip.
Another oddity to explore. “Never mind. I’ll let myself out.”
At the bottom of the stairs, he picked up his discarded jacket from the floor. He headed out, locking the door behind him.
“Oh, no, Jane East, there will be no secrets between us.” Of that, Cooper was dead certain. Right now though, he had to get his head into the mind of a rapist turned murderer.
“Shit,” he swore, speeding away from Jane’s house, detachable blue light spinning on the roof of his car. No matter how long he did his job, or how many times he witnessed the remnants of a killer, he would never wrap his brain around any man who would deliberately attack a woman or child. There was never a reason to destroy someone who could not defend him—or herself.
FIFTEEN
He found Jack bundled up in gloves and hat standing near the body talking with the medical examiner when he arrived. Jack moved in to intercept him, his expression grave. “It’s so fucked,” he swore, dragging his hands through his hair. “She was only in her twenties and probably never hurt a fly. Her only mistake had been to pick up the wrong John.”
Coop raised a brow. “Did you know her?”
Jack dropped his hands and took a step into Coop’s space. “No, I didn’t know her. Not in the sense you mean. I’m just pissed this guy is getting past us and now he’s killed a girl. And she was just barely above a girl, barely out of diapers.”
If the situation hadn’t been so grave and his friend’s expression so serious, Cooper would have chuckled. “Any witnesses?”
Jack shook his head. “Not that we’ve been able to identify. I’ve got a couple of patrolmen out canvassing the area.”
“Good. What do we know?”
“She was strangled.” This pronouncement came from the balding medical examiner walking toward him and Jack. The ME attempted to hide his lack of hair by swirling it in circles on the top of his head. Perhaps all that hair on top of his head added an inch to his short, five-foot six-inch height. “Manual strangulation.”
“How can you tell?”
One of the ME’s gray brows lifted. “Experience,” he said in a defensive tone.
He squatted next to the body to get a better view, checking it from head to toe, his gaze noting every detail, while the medical examiner continued to explain.
“There are what appear to be thumb prints on the hyoid bone and bruises that look to be finger marks on the back of her neck.”
Cooper glanced up to see the medical examiner demonstrate by reaching up and wrapping his hands around Jack’s neck.
“It looks as if he beat her first and then while she was unconscious he choked her to death. I’ll know for certain when I get her back to the morgue.”
“How soon, doc?”
The shorter man lifted his hefty shoulders and let them drop. “A few hours if I can get her out of here now.”
“Did we get all the crime scene photos?”
Jack answered. “Yes. The techs have come and gone.”
“Go ahead, doc.”
“Load her up, boys,” he shouted to his two gophers standing by with a gurney and a black body bag.
“Insensitive prick,” Coop said under his breath as he stood and watched the medical examiner walk away.
“That he is,” Jack agreed. “But he’s damn good at what he does.”
“He better be. Show me the scene.”
“Apparently this was Janette’s usual corner and he picked her up here.”
Cooper glanced around at the various shops and businesses, the streetlights, and the current traffic flow. “How could someone not have seen anything? The place is jam-packed.”
“Now. But at two in the morning the place is deserted.”
“Is that what time it happened?” he asked as he took in more of the scene. He noticed a paper coffee cup on the ground not far from the body. The lid had bright red lipstick on one side of it. Janette’s heels had scuffmarks on the back of them indicating someone had dragged her. A large multi-colored pocketbook and half its contents lay strewn on the ground not far from the coffee cup. Had she fought her attacker?
“Near as anyone can tell the last time someone saw or heard from Janette was about one in the morning after she finished a trick and she went inside and grabbed a cup of coffee to go from the diner right before closing. The waitress is the one who found Janette and called 9-1-1.”
“Is the waitress still around?”
Jack nodded. “I’ve got her in the diner, a patrolman is with her making certain no one comes in and she doesn’t use the phone.”
“Good thinking. We wouldn’t want some parent to accidentally find out their daughter was dead via the news.”
“If that parent even gave a damn,” Jack muttered.
“Jack.”
He held up his hands. “I know. I’m just so pissed. How could any parent not give a damn enough to prevent their daughter from walking the streets? Didn’t they give a shit?”
Jack’s voice cracked and Cooper laid a hand on his friend and partner’s shoulder. “Can you handle this?”
His friend shrugged off his hand. “Yeah, man. I want to nail this bastard. It was bad enough when he beat them, but now, now he’s upped the ante
and he’s dead meat.”
“Jack,” he said, the warning in his voice quite clear. He understood the emotional wreckage death scenes like this could cause. When a killer murdered someone it wasn’t just the dead who were the victims. Families and loved ones suffered, friends and even acquaintances grieved. He had seen this and worse and learned a long time ago that you can’t take it personal. If you did, you couldn’t do your job, you couldn’t help the victim or the victim’s family, and eventually you would burn out or bail out.
“I know.” He gave a stomp of one foot and shivered. “I just…” He took a deep breath. “This is a small town, Coop. This shit just does not happen.”
Oh, how he wished that were true. He knew that it wasn’t the size of the town that made it safe, but the people that lived there. Corruption and criminals knew no bounds.
“I hear ya, buddy. Now let’s go see— What was the waitress’s name?”
“Sharon. Bright red hair in a kind of bouffant.” Jack demonstrated the hairstyle by holding his hands out about four inches from the sides and top of his head. “Reminds me of Flo from that old television show, what was it called?”
“Alice.”
Jack snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s it.”
Coop grinned and followed Jack.
“She was practically hysterical when she made the 9-1-1 call and hadn’t calmed down much by the time I arrived. I think she was scared she might be next so she locked herself in the diner.”
“Can you blame her?”
“No, but I had to do some fancy talking to get her to open up and talk with me. She was much calmer when I left her.”
Coop could almost picture his friend sweet-talkin’ some woman out of her mind with fear that she would be the next victim of a murderer. He would lay on that New England accent, slow down his words, and add a little crooning to soothe her. Yeah, he could see Jack succeeding in getting Sharon to open the door and anything else Jack decided he wanted from her.
Phish NET Stalkings Page 12