by A J Kent
Theodore folds the paper before taking a huge breath, “Dr Errington was able to identify three things from the hand,” he pauses, ‘The gender of the victim and two sets of fingerprints.”
“Okay, that’s great. So, what’s the problem here. Why are you asking about my father, Theodore?”
“Well, like we expected, the hand belongs to a woman.”
“And the prints?”
He runs his hand through his styled hair and closes his eyes briefly, “The prints belong to your father, Rory.”
Silence.
What the fuck did Theodore just say?
I stand there, rigid, lifeless, motionless. I stare at Theodore as he looks at me, worry on his face.
Theodore stands up and puts his hands on my shoulders, jolting me back to reality.
“So, you’re telling me my Dad murdered this woman?”
He sighs, “Potentially, it could mean that, or it could mean something else. We can’t jump to conclusions just yet. The good thing and the one thing to remember is that we now have something to go on and we are able to identify the victim. We are now able to give her family some piece of mind.”
I nod and agree with Theodore. He’s right. There’s no point jumping the gun and speculating. It could mean anything. His prints could have been planted or he could have actually known the woman and his hand was the last one she touched before her life was taken from her.
“So, what do we do now?”
He removes his hands from my shoulders and places one on the bottom of my back, “Now we go back to the station and tell the others.”
“What about her family?”
He stops and looks down at his feet for a moment, “We tell them nothing yet. We don’t know if she’s dead yet, just because she’s missing a hand doesn’t actually mean she’s dead. Instead we are going to bring them in and ask them a few questions.”
I blow out a breath and exit the door we entered through not too long ago.
I really did not think when we walked through those whitewashed doors that I would be leaving with the information that my Dad is possibly a murderer. A serial killer.
A man responsible for taking the lives of seven or more women.
My father ladies and gentlemen.
I am potentially going to be working for the FBI with a father as a fucking murderer.
Lucky me.
Not.
9
Theodore
Pain shoots through my body as my knuckles dig into the red Everlast punching bag. I pummel my fists into the pig-skinned material to try and erase the look on Rory’s face from my memory when I told her that her father’s fingerprints were found on the hand mailed to the local precinct here in Los Angeles. She looked crushed and she looked broken. I know Rory hates the man, but I can’t even imagine what she is going through right now. The man might have ran away leaving Rory and her Mom, Glenda to fend for themselves but he is still her Dad and she is still his little girl.
I continue sparring with the bag in front of me, my punches growing deeper and harder with every upper cut and jab I throw. The sound and the feeling in my bones satisfying me to my core. Sweats pours down my body as I increase the intensity of my work out, venting out my anger and frustration.
Sexual frustration more like.
I shake the thoughts from my head before I give the bag a few more blows. I unwrap the white tape from my knuckles and grab my water bottle from my bag, glugging it like my life depends on it. As I put my empty bottle on the floor the gym door opens, and I see Jefferson’s reflection in the mirrors walking into the room.
He walks over to me before his eyes drop to my knuckles, “What the fuck, Theo?” he questions as he removes his gym bag from his shoulder.
I look down at my knuckles, my newly purple and blistered knuckles, “I had some built-up tension I needed to get out.”
He laughs as he starts to stretch his muscles, “More like rampant rage. Whose face was it this time?”
“It wasn’t anyone’s face. Not on the punching bag anyways.”
His brows crease and he looks at me with a questioning look on his face.
“I was trying to rid myself of Rory’s face.”
Henley shakes his head and laughs, “Man, I know you’ve got it bad for the girl but hitting a punch bag is not going to remove that pretty little face from your head.”
I shake my head. Don’t I know it.
“I wasn’t trying to forget her,” I say before wiping a towel across my face as sweats beads on my forehead. “I was trying to erase the face she made when I told her that her Dad’s fingerprints were on the hand.”
Henley nods, his eyes hooded with sadness, “It sucks man, but we don’t know the truth yet. We don’t know what it means”, he pauses to remove his t-shirt. “Besides, even if it doesn’t go in his favour, that is no reflection on Rory and her abilities, surely she knows that.”
Rory might have a mind that would give Einstein and Hawking a run for their money, but she is very good at jumping to conclusions.
A trait brought upon her by her father walking out on her. Either way she is going to blame her father and she is going to blame herself. How it will have anything to do with her beats me, but Rory will find a way to turn this on her, for her to take all the responsibility. She will deal with consequences that have nothing to do with her.
“I’ll talk to her, don’t worry man. I am not letting this eat her up. Maybe we should contact Frieson and get her removed from the case?” I ask, already regretting the words when they leave my mouth.
Henley laughs, “Are you sure you know a thing about that woman? There’s no fucking chance that she is walking away from this. She is in it for the long haul. She’s you man but with a good rack and a nice ass.”
I scoff and roll my eyes at his comments about Rory. Why does this woman have to be such a fucking turn on to every man that lays eyes on her? I flip Henley off before grabbing my shit and heading out of the gym.
I’ve got a blonde to check out.
I shake my head. I mean check up on. Check to see if she okay, to see if she’s dealing with the news.
Nice try, Theo. Nice-fucking-try.
◆◆◆
We’ve been working on this case for over a week now and some pieces of the case are starting to fit together. Over the last few days, we’ve received more body parts in the post. Today we finally received the head of the poor woman who was murdered. Just like the rest of the bodies that have been discovered, this woman is brunette, attractive, has been sexually assaulted and she’s in her mid-twenties. All indicators point to the same unsub. The same soulless creature responsible for taking away the life of someone innocent.
“Agent Riley,” Officer Lucaris says running to meet me.
“Good morning,” I say nodding as she gets closer.
“I am so glad you’re here. The rookie has discovered something.”
The rookie? There’s two of them.
“Which one?” I question. Even though I could probably guess the answer.
“The blonde one,” she pauses trying to remember her first name.
“Rory,” I remind her. She smiles and thanks me before following me down the hallway to our base room. I walk into the room and I go weak at the knees.
Rory is stood there with her hair loose and wavy, her sapphire eyes are wide and bright and she is wearing tight black jeans and a white shirt that is inviting me to rip it off her and get those no doubt, rosy nipples in my mouth.
I fight back a groan and adjust my pants discreetly before walking over to where Rory is bent over the table writing something on a post-it-note.
“What’s new?” I ask as Rory jumps up, losing her balance in the process.
I reach out to catch her and she giggles before thanking me. She bends down to pick the sticky note up from the floor and her ass knocks into my crotch. The groan I tried to conceal a few seconds ago involuntarily escapes my mouth.
She shoots back
up and looks at me, “What was that?” she questions.
I act dumbfounded and shake my head, “I have no idea.” I quickly change the subject as her lips turn upwards ever so slightly. Fuck, she clearly heard that grown. The whole of Los Angeles probably heard that fucking groan. “Lucaris said you found something. What is it?”
“Lottie and I spent the evening looking back through the files and I think I’ve found something that someone has missed.”
I smile. Of course, my blonde ex-best friend has found something that people with heaps of experience has missed.
“Carry on rookie”, I say giving her a wink.
Her cheeks flush but she quickly recovers, “So we currently have seven victims, right?”
I nod. “Keep going”
She nods, “Lottie and I went to the morgue this morning and we asked Dr Errington to come along. She brough her scanning machine and I got her to scan the hands of all the victims.”
Clever, clever girl. I’m impressed she went to the morgue without me. Dead bodies are not her thing.
“We got some interesting results back,” Charlotte says from the other side of the room.
Wait, has she been here the whole time? I turn to face her and smile. She looks at me with mischief in her eyes. Oh shit, did she see me checking out Rory and adjusting my hard on when I walked into the room.
Rory’s voice interrupts me from my thoughts.
“Each had sets of prints on them. Three victims had a women’s prints only and then the last three had my father’s on.” What the actual fuck. How did they miss this? How did I miss this? I definitely need to get my head in the game.
I walk closer to Rory, brushing her skin as I lean down to read the notes her and Charlotte compiled last night and this morning.
Henley clears his throat to make his presence known.
“Have you been there the whole time?” Lottie asks, a huge smile on her face.
He nods, “Long enough to hear what blondie just said.”
I roll my eyes as I continue to read the information.
“So, are you telling us that you think that the first three victims were murdered by someone else or are you saying we possibly have a team working together here?” I ask.
“I think we have a tag-team,” Rory says. “I think that maybe the female carried out the murders first and then got—.”
“Your father involved?” Henley interrupts.
She nods, “And then I think they both killed the rest of them.”
“So, what about the latest victim?” I mean she has two sets of prints on her, one belonging to Rory’s father and somebody else.
Charlotte walks across the room and hands Henley a piece of paper, “No fucking shit?” he shouts.
I look at Charlotte and back at Rory before walking over to Henley, grabbing the paper from his hands.
“This cannot be right,” I shake my head. “How is this possible, this is surely wrong?”
Rory walks behind me and places her small hand on my back, making my whole-body tingle from her gentle and reassuring touch.
“The prints are mine, Theodore,” she says calmly.
I walk over to the table before kicking a chair, sending it flying across the room.
Charlotte gasps and Henley walks over to me, pushing me against the wall. He locks his fingers around my wrists and restrains me to the wall, “You need to calm the fuck down, Theo,” he practically growls.
Calm the fuck down. Is he off is fucking head? How on earth does he expect me to calm the fuck down when the latest victim has Rory’s fingerprints on her.
“Please enlighten me how I am supposed to calm the fuck down, Jefferson,” I spit out, trying to wriggle my body free of his hold.
“Theodore,” Rory says walking towards me, her voice low and her face soft.
She looks at Henley, nodding for him to let me free. He removes his hands straight away before patting me on the shoulder.
“We’ll give you a few minutes,” he says walking towards the door. “Come on red, let’s leave them be.” Charlotte smiles before following him quickly out of the room.
I bend down and hang my head between my legs as I try to control my breathing. I stay in this position for a few minutes before standing up again to face Rory.
“I don’t understand how you’re so calm right now,” I say, grabbing her hand, not being able to resist the urge to touch her. To comfort her. Or is it for my own selfish game and in fact I need her touch to calm me down?
“Of course, it’s disconcerting that my fingerprints are on a murder victim, but it doesn’t add up. The woman was murdered three weeks ago. I’ve been at the academy this whole time and there’s heaps of evidence pinpointing my whereabouts so I’m not worried,” she pauses as she circles her thumb on my hand. “What I’m worried about is how it got there and why it’s there.”
Another million-dollar question I would like to know the answer to.
As if the last few days haven’t been weird and difficult enough. Finding out that Rory’s estranged father is potentially a serial killer was bad enough, but that has now been turned upside down and thrown into the fucking fire pit now that Rory’s fingerprints are on the body of our latest victim.
“What did Officer Meadon and Lucaris say once they found out?” I question.
She shrugs, “They said they can’t explain how it happened, but they know that I have nothing to do with the murders so that’s a good thing at least,” she laughs.
Rory is laughing. She is actually stood here laughing despite her fingerprints being on a women’s lifeless body and the possibility that she’s the child of a rapist and a serial killer. I definitely did not see this happening when we were put on this case last week.
“I guess we are going to be longer than we thought,” I smile “I guess there’s nothing better than gaining experience on the job.”
She laughs again, the sound causes a knot in my stomach, “I like the idea of training on the job. That training consisting of my father being a killer...yeah, I think I’d prefer to be back at Quantico getting my ass handed to me on a plate and downing vodka shots at Club Velvet”
I shake my head and smile as an idea fills my head, “I can’t give you Quantico, but I can definitely do something about those vodka shots.”
She licks her lips and claps her hands.
I think it’s about time we let our hair down, let off some steam and got absolutely bat-shit pissed.
10
Rory
My hips sway to the music, the sequins of my dress shining as they catch the light from the disco ball that spins above us. The club is electric, and Lottie and I are enjoying every single moment. I can feel the stress leave my body as I shake my ass. Lottie grabs my hand and twirls me around, the music making my head buzz with excitement.
She leans closer to me and whispers in my ear, “Theo has not been able to take his eyes off you,” she leans back, and I smile. I turn around and look to where Theodore and Henley are stood with a drink in their hands. They are both engrossed in conversation, but I can confirm that Lottie is right. Theodore’s eyes are locked on me, my body and my movements. I advert my eyes to the side and laugh, leaning closer to Lottie, “Looks like you have your own guy watching your every move,” I say tilting my head towards Henley who is practically drooling at Lottie.
She laughs and playfully slaps my arm, “He drives me insane Ror, I can’t stop thinking about him.” I stop dancing and wrap my fingers around her wrist, pulling her towards the back of the club where she can hear me better.
“No way did you just admit to having feelings for someone.”
Her cheeks flush and she smiles, “What can I say, it was bound to happen one day.”
I pull her into a hug, “So are you going to do anything about it?” I question. Lottie is usually really confident, but she hasn’t made a move on Henley other than the odd flirt and eye fuck across the dance floor.
She shrugs before slumping into the bl
ack and yellow leather chair, “I want to tell him I’m attracted to him, but I’m scared.”
“Wow,” I shout. “Why is it scaring you?”
She sighs before she takes her lipstick from her purse and applies a fresh coat to her lips, “What if he doesn’t have those feelings for me. I’ve heard people talk Ror, Henley is a fuck em and chuck em kind of guy. He doesn’t do relationships and I don’t want to sleep around anymore. I want to settle down.”
I know exactly how she feels. For some reason we both seem to be attracted to men who have commitment issues. The difference between Theodore and Henley though, I think Henley actually wants Lottie, and I think he wants to be with her whereas Theodore just wants to be friends.
“Just take it slow. Show him what he’s missing.” I smile and scan the room in search for someone who can help her make a point. I spend a few more seconds looking around the club when my eyes lock onto a blonde head.
Bingo.
“Follow me.” I say pulling Lottie up from the chair.
We push our way through the hustle and bustle of people dancing before we reach the person who is going to be our distraction.
“Officer Meadon,” I say his smile growing as his eyes rake my tube dress covered body.
“Holmes, Tipton,” he says. “But please, we aren’t working, call me Ryan.”
Interesting. We have been working with this guy for well over a week now and I’ve only just learnt his first name.
“I was hoping you could maybe help us with something?” I ask.
Lottie looks at me funny as Offi—Ryan waits for me to continue.
“Your friend,” I point to the guy standing next to him who has his eyes glued to Lottie, “He needs to keep Lottie here company and show her what a night out in LA is like.”
He laughs and Lottie coughs, shocked at the words that have just left my lips.
“Okay,” he pauses, “I can arrange that. On one condition.”
Of course, that condition was for Ryan to show me what a good LA night out was like. Ryan’s friend, whose name we learned is Sam pulled Lottie onto the dance floor and started grinding his body against hers and they danced. Lottie looked at me before rolling her eyes and started grinding her body against his.