by Deborah Camp
“It’s only for a few days and I think it will do us both some good.” He linked his fingers with hers. “I’m going to try to reach Kassidy Laker.”
“When?”
“Now.”
Trudy leaned away from him, giving him a guarded look. “You sure? You don’t have anything of hers.”
“That’s why I said ‘try.’ I’m like that crazy fuck. I’m impatient to move things along. She was the most recent victim. I need to connect with her. I’ll ask Gregory to help me.”
“How is dear Gregory?”
He smirked at her, her question reminding him of when she had openly scoffed at him for having a spirit guide. That was, of course, before Ethel, her own spirit guide, came onto the scene and blasted her ridicule to smithereens. “I haven’t spoken with Gregory in a while, but he always seems to be in good spirits, so to speak.”
She rolled her eyes, but was back to being serious in the next second. “Why not wait until Kassidy’s mother gets back to us so we can ask to borrow something that belonged to her?”
“There’s a good chance she might be able to tell us what he looks like or even his name. I want to know.”
She studied his face with her all-seeing, all-knowing green eyes for long moments before it became too much for him and he blinked and looked down at their joined hands. “I hope it doesn’t throw you into another funk.”
He chuckled darkly, finding her phrasing delightful and irritating all at once. “If it does, I have you to haul my ass out of it, don’t I?”
Heaving a sigh, she placed her hands on the sides of his face and made him look at her. “This is it. No talking to murder victims and reliving their deaths for a whole week. Your psyche needs a rest.”
“Says who?”
“Me. The most important person in your life.” She arched her brows, daring him to quarrel with that. He couldn’t.
God, this woman! When she looked at him like that, intense and challenging and brimming with devotion, it made him go weak inside. It ground to dust his defenses and made him feel fantastic and fearful, worthy and worthless, lucky and cursed, confident and conflicted. And he knew why. He didn’t trust these feelings that were still so foreign to him. Of being openly and unapologetically loved, in love, cherished, worried about, possessed.
Struck speechless by her open adoration, he nodded, gripped her wrists, and pulled her hands away from his face. A lump formed in his throat and he could barely speak past it. “You finish packing while I concentrate on finding Kassidy.”
She looked shaken, and he realized she’d felt his inner turmoil. “What is it? What did I do?”
“Nothing.”
“Something,” she insisted. “You’ve gone all quiet and tense.”
“Trudy . . .” he sighed her name and shoved all ten fingers through his hair in a seizure of frustration. “It’s nothing! I just—.”
“Just what? Wish I wouldn’t ask favors of you? Worry about you?”
“No. Yes.” He massaged his temples for a few moments while he stitched his thoughts together. “It’s strange being coddled.”
“Coddled?” Her expression was a heart-warming a mixture of censure and amusement.
“I’ve been possessive of women before – sort of. Sometimes.” He shrugged. “But I’ve never had a woman fret over me like you do. I’m not saying I don’t like it or that I don’t know I’m the luckiest sonofabitch on earth. I just don’t how to handle it.”
She tipped her head sideways and regarded him with so much tenderness that he felt his heart puddle in his chest. “Quintara never worries about you? Or Darla, your ever faithful and efficient assistant?”
“They do, but they don’t . . . it’s not the same, and you know it.”
“Here’s how you handle it.” She pressed her palm to the side of his face again and leaned in to kiss his lips slowly, softly, lovingly. “So, I’ll pack while you confer with Gregory about Kassidy. I’m trying not to coddle, but . . .” She kissed him again. “Don’t bust your brain. It’s one of the parts I like best about you.”
Chapter 12
He waited for her to go into the bedroom before he settled more comfortably on the sofa and closed his eyes. Thoughts of Trudy obliterated everything for a few minutes. He’d lived most of his life telling himself that he was unlovable and was better off keeping to himself, except for baser needs like sex. He liked sex. He liked women and sex. Then Trudy had crossed his path and blown right through his defenses. She’d performed CPR on his deadened heart, forcing life back into it, making it pulse with everything from passion to possessiveness. She had been a death knell and a life force. And in her own unassuming yet headstrong way, she was still wreaking havoc and remaking him, molding him, healing him.
With a sigh, he set aside the musings and let his mind float free, imagining it to be a balloon sailing across a blue sky. Within a minute or two, he felt a presence – not in the room with him, but inside him. Powerful and familiar.
Good to have you with me again, Gregory.
You want my help, Levi?
Yes. I’m looking for Kassidy Laker. She is a murder victim of the salvage yard serial killer.
I’ll do my best for you as always, Levi. You haven’t called on me in a long while. I sense you’re feeling vulnerable.
Vulnerable? He didn’t care for that word. I’m fine. Just a bit tired and . . . there’s a lot going on. You ready?
I won’t argue the point as I’m correct, as you well know. Very good. Let us begin.
Miffed at being called out, Levi pushed aside the negative feeling and went through the mental exercises of clearing his mind of clutter. Several minutes passed before he felt his heart rate slow and his breathing deepen.
Call to her, Levi. Tell her who you are and what you want.
Heeding Gregory’s instructions, Levi focused on a spot of light in his mind. It was distant like a tiny star, but it sparkled and he knew it was her. Hello, angel. I’m Levi. I need you to show me what happened. I want to catch the man who killed you. Will you come closer? Take my hand, Kassidy. Help me, please.
The star expanded until he could see a dark shape in the center of it. Closer. Closer, And then she was there, standing in the light, her hair no longer pink but dark brown and hanging to her shoulders. Her lithe figure was clad in blue jean cut-offs and a pink tank top. She was barefooted. Unsmiling.
Good to see you, Kassidy. You didn’t know me before, but I’ve been reading about you. I know he murdered you. I want to find him and make sure he doesn’t kill anyone else. Will you show me? Take my hand, angel.
Her cool fingers touched his and his mind was filled with bright light and then darkness. He stiffened, wondering what was happening. He opened his eyes and saw a street, a couple walking past, trees, stars, a half-moon. He could smell the river and something else . . . fish frying. He was sitting on a concrete picnic table in front of a food truck that was now closed. Looking down, he saw that she wore cutoffs and a t-shirt with the Rolling Stones logo on it. The big mouth and tongue were faded and cracked after many washings. Kassidy took a big bite of the fish taco she held in her hands. Levi could taste it – cod, lettuce, mayo, tabasco sauce. She took a swig of beer. Cheap beer. He frowned. He hated cheap beer.
Glancing around, he couldn’t make out much since the only light source, other than the heavens, was provided by a street lamp several yards away. Kassidy popped the final bite of the taco into her mouth and tipped the beer can up to drain it. She closed her eyes while she savored the last swallow of the sour liquid.
A jolt. An awareness of someone behind her. Something covered her head and face. She gasped, but before she could make another sound, a hard object slammed into the back of her head. Sharp, engulfing pain consumed her followed by nothingness.
When she opened her eyes again, her head throbbed like a bitch in heat. At first, she could discern little, other than she was lying flat on her back on a bed. She wiggled and that’s when she realized that her wris
ts were bound behind her and her ankles were tied to the bed posts. Panic exploded through her and she thrashed, her head whipping from side to side as the pain in it became irrelevant.
Fingers bit into her jaw, stopping her head’s movement, and she stared up at a Halloween mask. A grotesque skeletal face, black and red. The Grim Reaper. Slits revealed the glint of human eyes. A black hood covered the rest of his head.
“What? Who?” She gathered a breath to scream and the man slapped her hard across the cheek. The scream became a whimper. Tears blurred her vision. He slapped her again and she tasted blood as her lower lip split open. She heard a whisk and then saw the knife blade, which he used to slice through her shirt and bra.
“No, no, no.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” A whisper laced with humor. He was enjoying himself. “You belong to me now.”
He jerked at the waistband of her shorts, tearing, ripping them, yanking them down her legs. He sliced through her panties with the knife, nicking her skin as he did so. She screamed. He laughed. She looked wildly about for a way to escape. Concrete block walls, a single light bulb swaying above, a glimpse of a metal shelving unit. The knife tip circled her nipple and she stilled.
“I could cut these off and eat them like candy,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Maybe I will.” His hand covered her throat and he pressed, blocking her air.
She tried to get away from him, but could barely move as he straddled her, sitting on her stomach as his fingers ground deeper until her vision dimmed and blinked out.
Levi breathed deeply and waited, sensing her labored heartbeats and her whooshing lungs. She was alive. Still alive. His eyelids fluttered, opened.
The bed. The basement. The mask. The knife slipping along her cheek, down her throat, between her breasts. Her vision cleared and she watched the knife and the gloved hand. A black glove. He lifted the knife so that she could see it better. What’s that? A tattoo. An infinity symbol with a Nazi sign over it.
Another scene flashed through Levi’s mind – a smoky room with the deep undercurrent of voices and the throb of music. A bar or club. He was weaving among tables full of people. He carried a tray loaded with mugs and glasses. He stopped, bent down, and set beers in front of three men. One of them wrapped his long fingers around the mug handle and a tattoo on his wrist was visible. The same tattoo.
“I know you.” It was Kassidy. In the bed. In the bad place.
He’d been stroking the side of the blade around her breasts and across her stomach. Now he froze and the eyes behind the mask focused on her face. They narrowed.
“At the Sand Dollar,” she rasped out, trying to recall his face. A mustache and beard made a dark circle around his mouth and chin. She remembered that. And he had dark hair, kind of shaggy, and dark eyes. A long face. Close-set, mean eyes. Eyes with hardly any life in them. Dark and flat. Like in the mask. One of the other guys had called him . . . “A.J.”
The knife slashed from ear to ear. Hot liquid coated her neck and filled her mouth. She sputtered. The knife rose up and came down in a vicious plunge, straight into her shuddering heart. Her scream was just a gurgle of noise as her heart beat once, twice, tried for a third . . .
Levi! Enough! Let go of her!
Kassidy’s hand was stripped from his and a scream tore through his head. He pressed his hands over his ears and rocked to and fro as pain ricocheted through his brain. A moan climbed up his throat.
Owww. Goddamn it, he cursed at Gregory.
You’re welcome.
The numinous presence enveloping him dissipated slowly, gently. Levi forced his eyes open and found himself gazing at Trudy. She stood near him, hip cocked, a troubled expression on her heart-shaped face.
“You okay?” she asked.
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak again. He swallowed. His throat was raw.
“She knew him.”
He nodded again.
“Had she dated him or what?”
“No.” His voice came out scratchy, raspier than usual. “In a bar. She waited on him.”
Trudy picked up the folder off the coffee table and flipped through it. “Says she worked at the Sand Dollar Club on Burgundy Street.” She looked up from the papers. “Did she show him to you? Did she know his name?”
He held up a hand, asking for a minute.
She went to the sideboard and poured him a glass of water, then handed it to him. He smiled his thanks and downed it. The cool water was a balm for his ravaged throat.
“He choked me . . . her,” Levi said. “It was intense.”
“Like always.” She sat beside him, ran a hand through his mussed hair, and laid her cheek against his shoulder. “Take a minute.”
He angled his face toward her and kissed her feathery bangs. “She said the guys he was with called him A.J. She remembered he had a short beard and mustache, dark shaggy hair. He’s lean. Has a tattoo on the inside of his right wrist of an infinity symbol with a swastika on top of it.”
“Natch. Sounds like your typical creep.”
“He abducted her off the street and took her to that place with a drain in the floor. He wore a mask. A Grim Reaper one. Horrible looking thing. She didn’t see him before he abducted her. He attacked from behind and put a hood over her head. Knocked her out.” He ran a hand down his face, trying to shake off the oppression that saddled him. “She was so young. Minding her own damn business.”
They fell silent. He listened to Trudy’s quiet breathing and enjoyed the slight weight of her head on his shoulder and the scent of cherry blossoms, courtesy of her shampoo.
“This is nice, but I should jot down everything I can remember and then we should hand over what we’ve learned to Bonifay and Dupree before we leave for Atlanta.”
“You’re right. We might actually have some information they don’t already have.”
“I’m sure we do, but that doesn’t mean we’ll give it all to them. I think they should work for it.”
“What’s that mean exactly?”
He gave her a cagey look. “I don’t like having a tail.”
“We don’t know that they’ve put a tail on us. They were probably following Forté.”
“I intend to find out.”
She patted his chest before straightening from him. “Calm down, Wolfe. You jot and I’ll compile the report.” She stood up and tunneled the fingers of one hand through his hair.
“Nothing about the tattoo. We might not even say anything at first about the name,” he instructed.
“Why not?”
“I’ll tell them about that in person. In my own time.”
“What are you up to?”
“They’ve given us jack shit and they’ve been keeping an eye on us as if we’re suspects or they’re hoping to arrest us for something. I don’t like it.”
She chastised him with a smile and a head shake. “Ease up. If you’re nice, I’ll let you take me to some jazzy joint on Bourbon Street.”
“Laissez les bons temps rouler?”
She tugged some strands of his hair. “Bien sȗr.”
Chapter 13
Seated in the same police interrogation room as before, Trudy tried to appear calm and in control. It wasn’t easy, given that “the man with a plan” seated beside her was wound as tight as a watch spring and not forthcoming on what he was up to. She noted the ticking muscle in his jaw and the slight narrowing of his cobalt eyes. Yep. He was in a mood.
“Hey there, buckaroo.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Let up on the reins a little, why don’t you? We’re here to share and make nice.” A quick scowl was his comeback. “Why are you hating on the cops all of a sudden?”
“I’m not. I told you. This shouldn’t be all one-sided. If they don’t trust us, then we don’t have to work with them. Besides, I believe that you’re the one who’s had trouble talking to the police.” He ran a finger around his dark blue shirt collar and felt the knot of his blue striped tie to be sure it was still centered. “
Except in Key West. You found a cop there to your liking.”
She sighed. “Oh, please. That again?” Would he ever let go of her flirtation with Detective Tom Sullivan? She’d had dinner with the man and he’d kissed her on the cheek. Big deal. It was all before she’d given her heart and total allegiance to Levi. “You know, you’re lucky I don’t bring up every female you knocked boots with. I mean, the list is loooong. Every time we go to an event in Atlanta I run into women who’ve had you before I did.” She was pleased that he had the good grace to grimace and that he changed the subject.
“Remember, we’re only sharing what’s in our report. If they don’t offer up anything on their end, then we’re done.”
“Yes, I got the memo, but I didn’t say I’d go along with it.” She smoothed wrinkles from her black slacks that she’d paired with a long-sleeved black t-shirt with white stars, moons, and suns embroidered on it.
“What’s that mean?”
She gave him a cool look. “I don’t withhold from the police, Levi, under any circumstances. I don’t understand why you’ve decided that Dupree and Bonifay are your adversaries, but I’m not on board with that. If you don’t tell them everything we know so far, I will.”
“Now you listen to me, Trudy.” He drew in a breath, but then the door opened and Detective Bonifay entered, looking on trend in a pair of skinny jeans, cream shirt, and quilted-shoulder, black leather gun vest. Her dark blue hair and matching eye shadow completed the bad-ass ensemble.
“Hey,” she said, flashing a brief smile at them. “Rodie’s on his way. Y’all want coffee or a soda pop?”
“Not for me.” From her peripheral vision, she saw Levi’s head shake. “How have you been?”
“Busy.” Alice Bonifay pulled out one of the chairs opposite them and sat down. “So, y’all heading back to Atlanta?”