by Ronica Black
The DJ continued. “Ms. Erin McKenzie, each and every lady here at La Femme wants to wish you a very happy birthday. So without further ado…”
Liz signaled to the VIP bartender. Smiling, she then embraced Erin from behind and covered her eyes. The bartender, dressed as a vintage show girl, rolled an enormous cake toward them. Five tiers sat purposely off center, covered in black and white mosaic frosting and wild-colored ribbons. Thirty tall candles burned brightly, some sparkling like Fourth of July fireworks.
“Are you ready for the best birthday ever?” Liz asked in her ear.
Erin bit her lower lip in anticipation. “I think so.”
“You think so?” Liz laughed.
“I’m nervous, Liz. God, there isn’t a stripper, is there?”
“Do you want there to be a stripper?”
“What?”
“Because whatever you want, you know I’ll…”
“No!”
“You sure?”
“Liz!”
“Okay. You’re ready, then?”
Erin nodded.
Liz uncovered her eyes and cued the DJ.
As Erin turned deep red and stared at her giant cake in awe, hundreds of women belted out “Happy Birthday to You.”
Erin kept looking around as if it all was a dream. Liz couldn’t help but feel moved. Erin’s happiness, it was like a drug.
“You better blow out those candles before the sprinklers go off,” she said when the song was over.
Erin lifted her hands to her face, as if grounding herself in reality. “Very funny.” She stood there, staring at the cake, the flickering light golden against her.
“Make a wish!” someone yelled.
Erin lowered her hands. “They’ve all come true already.” She looked again at the cake and then back up at Liz. “Almost.” She closed her eyes and took in a big breath. The candles went out in a whoosh and the crowd cheered. The music kicked up again, as did a few of the sparkling candles.
“What did you wish for?” Liz asked.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
“But if you don’t tell me, how can I make sure it will?” The words scraped her throat in their raw honesty. Will I always be able to make her wishes come true? More importantly, will I always be able to keep her safe?
They fell into one another and danced. Around them the club pulsed a life all its own and Liz’s mind threatened to turn as dark purple as the strobe lights. She held Erin closer, tighter, and just breathed.
Chapter Two
“We got another one over here!”
Homicide Detective Patricia Henderson turned toward the voice hidden beyond the desert brush. She was busy searching the ground about a hundred yards away, closer to the highway. Cars whizzed past, making it hard to hear who was speaking. She snapped on the latex gloves she’d pulled from her back pocket and wiped the warm sweat from her forehead with her wrist. The dry ground crunched under her boots as she followed a small legion of cops, all of them stepping carefully along the parched earth. The early spring wind blew warm, rustling the long, skeletal hanging trees and brush, the baked scent of the desert on its tail.
There was usually something peaceful about that smell, that it was the combination of just two things: the sun and the earth. That was it, nothing else. No rain, no shade. Just the sun and earth. And usually the smell comforted Patricia, but this wind was different. It had a hint of something ominous.
One of the officers pointed and she caught sight of an older man crouched down behind a palo verde, examining the dirt cautiously with a number two pencil. Patricia recognized him as a longtime employee for the county coroner.
“Bobby, what’d ya find?” She pulled off her shades and squatted close by for a better look. Her partner Gary Jacobs did the same.
“Not something that’s gonna make you happy.” Bobby, or Robert to those who hadn’t known him long, scooted around some teeth with the end of the pencil. Working carefully, he unearthed what appeared to be part of a jawbone.
Gary whistled. Bobby dug farther, moving downward from the jawbone with his gloved fingers. After a short while he hit something and lifted what appeared to be the remains of a tibia and fibula tangled in a dirty patch of denim. There was little doubt that they’d just uncovered more human remains.
“That’s enough for now.” Bobby met Patricia’s eyes. Forensics would need to recover the rest.
“The Corona County Sheriff’s going to want this one,” Gary said. “We’re in their jurisdiction now, and God only knows how many more bodies there are.”
Two sheriff’s officers were already on scene. It would only be a matter of minutes before news of a second body would bring in half the department.
“Whoever takes it on is going to have to search the entire highway.” Patricia added to his train of thought.
They should’ve done so all along. She’d said so months ago. Frustrated, she replaced her shades as she and Gary walked back toward the highway. She always hated being right under circumstances like these. Two months earlier they’d found a body about a mile south, just within the border of Valle Luna. A month before that the very first body had been found, a half a mile or so farther south. Today they’d been called out to examine a skull a hitchhiker had stumbled upon. Unsure of county boundaries, he’d called Valle Luna police and they’d come despite the jurisdiction issue. If the discovery was linked to their previous two bodies, they needed to find out all they could at the scene.
The skull was intact and nestled closely to the rest of the remains just off the highway. Now, within hours of investigating the skull, they’d located another body, farther out in the desert, perhaps the fourth victim of the same killer.
A chill ran through Patricia. “He’s dumping here,” she said. “This is his goddamned Green River.”
She glanced up as a semi barreled past, blaring its horn. Gary moved closer as several other vehicles surged past.
“We don’t know that for sure.” He lifted his voice to be heard. “We don’t even know if they’re all related.”
“They are, I’d bet on it.” The first two had been strangled in the same fashion, both found soon after death. She didn’t need forensics to confirm what she knew in her gut. She glanced back toward the latest discovery. “He started in this area. These remains are older.”
The Green River killer followed a body dump pattern like this up in Washington state. The police there, too, had stumbled upon additional bodies when they investigated reports of remains.
“You’re getting carried away,” Gary warned.
Patricia sighed into the warm desert wind. Her partner knew all too well how her mind worked. That she wrapped up cases before all the evidence was in. A lot of the time, however, she was right.
She stared at the passing vehicles and imagined their killer. He dumped at night when no one could see. He would wait until there was no oncoming traffic or anyone behind him, then pull off the road, turn off his lights, and drag the bodies into the brush. It would take five minutes at most, then he’d climb back in his car and drive off.
She scoured the ground around them. Thousands of tiny shards of discarded glass shimmered in the sunlight as far as the eye could see. Then there were the black jagged strands of stripped rubber lying angry and coiled, like snakes ready to strike. Scattered among those shredded pieces of tire and glass lay small rusted metal pieces of at least a dozen vehicles, along with who knew how many different small pieces of trash and other discarded items.
Patricia frowned, knowing it was unlikely they would find any old undisturbed tire marks. But who knew? Maybe they’d luck out and find a cigarette butt covered in the victim’s blood and loaded with the DNA of their killer. She laughed at her fantasy, knowing it wasn’t likely, especially with everybody and their mother boning up on forensics courtesy of all the new cop shows on prime-time television.
“Have forensics look for any tire marks,” she said and headed back to her Blazer.
>
She retrieved a hot bottle of water from the case she always kept with her. Going on call after call after dead bodies in the heat could get to a person. She looked to the pale blue sky, knowing soon enough it would be swarming with helicopters searching for more bodies. She closed her eyes, already imagining their loud sputtering sound along with the high-pitched barks of the search dogs.
The shrill of her cell phone disturbed her thoughts. She snapped it up quickly from her belt. “Henderson.”
“Yeah, it’s Stewart.”
“What’s up?”
Had he already heard of their new discoveries? Detective Martin Stewart had sided with her weeks ago when she suggested they search the entire strip of highway. But it wasn’t his case and she’d been blown off, her request ignored in order to save the department time and money. Not to mention the jurisdiction issue and the permission they would’ve had to get from Corona County. Politics were a bitch, even when it came to justice.
However, if they could prove the new bodies were connected to the previous ones discovered in Valle Luna, the departments would be forced to work together.
“Get your ass over here,” he bellowed.
“What? Why?”
“We got a dead fruitcake.”
She flinched at his choice of words. Even though she’d worked with him on other cases, she never got used to his crass behavior. Usually she shot back with words of her own, but she was too focused on the mystery of the highway bodies to get into a shouting match with him.
“I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that.” She eyed several more Corona County Sheriff’s vehicles approaching along the highway.
“Get over here quick,” he rasped.
“I can’t, I’m up to my eyeballs with bones on the highway.”
There was a pause and she could hear him struggling for breath, characteristic of his asthmatic, way too many smokes a day condition. When he spoke again, static began to break up the call. She pressed the phone tightly to her ear, trying to hear. Around her the uniformed deputies were walking and talking, catching up quickly to their situation. Wind blew her hair across her face.
Pushing the auburn strands aside, she said loudly, “Stewart, I can’t leave.” She started walking toward the cluster of men, needing to join Gary Jacobs in establishing control. But her snakeskin boots stopped dead as Stewart’s final words suddenly came through crystal clear.
“I’m telling ya, Henderson, this one has Adams written all over it.”
Chapter Three
Erin McKenzie turned over in the king-sized bed, caught between sleep and wakefulness. She lay still for a moment as her mind stirred to life. Something had woken her. For a brief instant she panicked, unsure of where she was. Waking like this was a recurring nuisance, one she’d struggled with since her parents had sent her away at age thirteen to a facility for juveniles. But as she moved against the impossibly soft sheets and inhaled the cologne of her lover, she relaxed and breathed easy.
She was safe. With Liz.
She lifted her head to read the bedside clock. 7:16 a.m. There was still another half hour before the alarm. Sliding her arm over the warmth of her lover, she snuggled closer. They’d been together for over a year now and she still couldn’t get over how wonderful Liz made her feel. She smiled and pressed her lips against the strong, smooth back. As Liz stirred slightly, mumbling in her sleep, Erin tugged her closer and settled deeper into the pillow. Her mind went back to their lovemaking a few hours before. No matter how tired they both were, once they were in bed, they couldn’t keep their hands off one another. Liz was always busy with work, but she made sure they still had time for each other.
Her lesbian nightclub, La Femme, was the largest in the country. Women from all over flew into Valle Luna to experience the theme nights with hundreds of other dancing, sweating lesbians. Liz could easily live off the profits from her club, but she was savvy and had invested in the production and development of lesbian-centered films. With more women coming out than ever before, the market for quality lesbian entertainment had grown. Lesbians craved movies about their love and their lifestyle, and Hollywood just wasn’t catching up fast enough. So Liz stepped up to the plate herself.
Erotique Studios was thriving, and Liz had recently added a gay line that was already paying off. Somehow she managed to balance it all, running her nightclub and film-production business with professional ease. Erin was proud to be a part of it and glad to help in any way she could. The movies were invaluable to many people, herself included. She could still remember the first one she’d seen when she was a still a cop, studying up on Liz for the undercover investigation that had brought them together. The storyline had moved her in ways she hadn’t quite understood then, but the burn of desire was all too familiar to her now.
She stirred inside and nestled closer to Liz. Happy. Protected. Loved. She smiled as the words played in her mind.
Desired.
Yes, she had it all. Pure contentment weighed her down and she felt like melting into the sheets. This was happiness. She was just about to fall back to sleep when Liz turned to face her.
“Mmm, morning,” Liz whispered, her voice not yet awake. She planted a kiss on Erin’s forehead.
“Good morning.” Erin heard a beep from somewhere in the distance. “Is that the gate?”
Liz groaned as she arched her back in a stretch. “It’s probably Douglas wanting an early start on the yard. I told him not to come this early anymore.”
“Should we let him in?”
“No.” Liz snuggled down into the sheets. “I’m not ready for leaf blowers.”
They lay in silence for a moment, Liz’s hand lightly tracing the skin of Erin’s abdomen.
“You all right?” Liz asked.
“Yeah.” Erin stared at her lover’s beautiful face. “I was just thinking.”
Liz cracked a smile. “About your birthday?”
Erin flushed, remembering the wild lovemaking that had taken place in Liz’s private room at the club. “Well, no,” she stammered.
“You mean you already forgot?” Liz pinched her backside.
Erin squirmed. “Of course not. I mean, well, I’ve never, er…experienced cake like that before.”
Liz had stripped her naked, placed her on the bottom tier, then smeared cake from the upper tiers all over her body and proceeded to eat it. The cake had been all over the both of them before long.
Erin felt a pang down deep as she recalled how hungry Liz had been. How hungry they’d both been. For pastry. She thought of Liz easing her back against the collapsed tiers, licking her way down until she rested between Erin’s legs, where she couldn’t seem to get enough.
Liz laughed as if she’d shared in the memory. She opened her eyes. Erin stared into their blue depths, mesmerized as always by how clear they were first thing in the morning. As if the night cleansed them of worries and clouds of pain.
“And you thought that big ol’ cake was for everyone,” Liz said softly.
“I did.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s all about you?”
Erin warmed at the words. “I’m just not used to it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.” She had never been the center of someone’s world before. As much as it thrilled her and touched her, she didn’t know if she could ever take it for granted.
Liz’s hands ran up and down her body, sending another type of thrill through her. “Turn around.”
Erin shuddered. “Why?” But she obeyed, pressing her back up against Liz.
“I’m just trying to get you used to it.” Liz breathed in her ear, biting her lobe.
One strong hand glided over Erin’s hip to between her legs. She sighed as it slipped between her thighs and stroked her awakening clit.
“Liz,” she whispered, covering the hand with her own, loving the way it moved, the way Liz made her feel.
“Yeah?”
“Mmm, think it might be working.”
“
Good.”
The fingers spread knowingly, framing her now-engorged clit, stroking up and down, up and down, sliding easily in her arousal.
“Oh God.” Erin clenched her eyes, moving against the hand. Her body was suddenly on fire, her entire being pulsing with Liz. She moaned as another sharp bolt of pleasure shot through her. “I take it you’re feeling better, then?” she asked, amazed that Liz always seemed strong and healthy enough for sex, despite her apparent fatigue.
“You tell me,” Liz responded.
Erin groaned as the fingers of pleasure stroked her internally, branching out within her body. “You’re feeling…much…better.”
There were beeps then, one right after the other. She thought it was in her mind, the firework effects of making love…but she was wrong.
*
“Here we go again,” Patricia said to herself as she exited the vehicle and approached the closed security gate. Beyond the rails loomed the large home of Elizabeth Adams, the dark desert mountains guarding it like an overbearing mother. She tugged on the gate and frowned.
Next to her Stewart cursed. “Fucking Fort Knox.”
“Maybe you should use the call box,” Gary Jacobs said from the passenger window.
Stewart adjusted his waistband. “I’ve been trying. Trying to give the bitch a nice little wake-up call.”
Patricia checked her watch. It was after seven. The dawn light was gray, weak from the struggle of having to break through the darkness. She knew they should wait until at least eight to come knocking without a warrant, but she was in no mood for niceties. They had questions for Adams. Ones that couldn’t wait. She crossed in front of the two unmarked police cruisers to the call box, pressed the large red button, and waited. Nothing. She tried again. No response.
“Hold it in and talk,” Gary suggested.
“If you know how to work this, then you get out and do it.”
She heard a vehicle’s passenger door close as she bent over to examine the call box. Following her partner’s advice, she held the button in and spoke.