by Gerri Hill
“Ah, don’t cook,” Casey guessed. “Does Michael?” she asked as she backed up.
“Are you kidding?”
“So you guys eat takeout every night?”
“Not fast food takeout, no. But yes, we eat out. I mean, not necessarily out. You can pick up orders at just about every restaurant nowadays.”
“It’s not that hard to cook,” she said.
“I know. It’s not that I can’t cook. Well, not gourmet or anything, but I can get by. But it’s that I don’t cook.”
Casey raised her eyebrows.
“At first, I cooked all the time. However, more often than not, I ate alone. Our schedules weren’t in sync. So, it’s evolved into getting takeout and each can eat when they want.”
“I see.”
Leslie sighed. “No, you don’t. It’s an insane arrangement, I know.” She turned. “But I wouldn’t picture you as a cook.”
“Oh, I know my way around a kitchen.” She shrugged. “Just, it’s hard to cook for one. Steak on the grill, baked potato and a vegetable, I’m good to go. But I eat takeout a lot too.” She turned on Live Oak and headed east. “And you know, Sam cooks. They invite me all the time, but I try not to go too much. I don’t want to be a pest.”
“And did you eat already?”
She laughed. “No. I was hoping we could take a break and grab a burger or something. Or else I’ll steal half your chips.”
“Good thing I opted for the bigger bag.” Leslie tossed it behind them on the backseat, then pulled out the spreadsheet and her penlight. “Let’s see. Brookhaven requires walking, and Creekside we think is inaccessible to a stalker. So, want to try Cascades? Or Twin Peaks?”
“What all did they hit last night?”
“Since Brookhaven requires walking, I’m assuming that’s why they skipped it. Other than that, it looks like they hit them all.”
“How would they have time for all of them?”
“Because they probably didn’t sit and park like we did.”
“No wonder. I should have known. Tori can’t sit still this long.”
“Let’s do Cascades,” Leslie suggested. “We never made it by there the other night. My notes say it has outdoor patios on each ground floor unit.”
“What block?”
“Turn right on Hall. It’s before you get to Gaston.”
Casey saw the well-lit entryway—along with the cascading waterfall—well before she saw the sign. She pulled into the parking lot, driving slowly until they saw the opening between the four buildings.
“The view’s not great,” Leslie said when she parked. “We may need to mark this one as walking required too.”
Casey cut the engine and opened the windows, letting in what little breeze there was. “Gonna be a warm night.”
“Oh, well. I guess we’re all used to it by now.” Leslie turned toward her. “I picture you as the summer type anyway. All tan and everything, playing at the lake.”
“Yeah. I enjoy the summer. Back in my twenties, I was at the lake all the time.” She smiled. “I had a lot more energy back then.”
“Didn’t we all.”
“Yeah. More energy, less sense.”
Leslie rolled her head along the seat, watching her. Casey finally turned and raised an eyebrow.
“When did you know you were gay?”
Casey smiled. “The standard straight woman’s question, huh?”
Leslie shrugged. “Just wondering.”
“I knew when I was young, I guess. I always kinda felt different. So I kept to myself. I didn’t have a whole lot of friends then. But I think, at the time, I attributed it to my life at home. It wasn’t normal, therefore I didn’t really feel normal. And it wasn’t like I brought friends home or anything. I didn’t want to chance that both my parents would be there at the same time. If they were, that usually meant a fight. It was easier to keep my distance with people…boys.”
“How old were you when…you know?”
“What? Sex?”
“Yeah. Your first time.”
“I was seventeen. She was the sister of a friend.” Casey leaned her head back, remembering. “She was a freshman in college. She had the longest legs I’ve ever seen.” She turned quickly, looking at Leslie with a smile. “Every time she saw me, she flirted with me. I never really understood it. Not until that day. It was Thanksgiving. I’d been invited to their house. She took me upstairs to listen to some new music she’d just gotten.”
“Where was your friend?”
“Helping in the kitchen.”
“She didn’t know?”
“No. Of course, neither did I. I mean, I thought we were really going to listen to music. We went into her room and before I knew what was happening, she had me on the bed and her hand was down my pants.”
“But you knew, right?”
“Yeah. I knew. It just wasn’t the way I imagined losing my virginity, you know, with a quickie right before Thanksgiving dinner.”
Leslie smiled. “Did you see her again?”
“Yeah. At Christmas.” Casey turned back, looking out the windshield. “But that was the last time. She came home that summer and she had a boyfriend. She wouldn’t even speak to me.”
“So she wasn’t gay?”
“No, she was gay. But like some, she tried to fight it. It’s okay. I didn’t blame her for that.”
“Did you try to fight it?”
“No. It never really occurred to me to fight it. It was just who I was. Who I am. I didn’t see the point of pretending.”
“So you’ve never slept with a guy?”
“No. I try not to think about it.” She grinned. “Because that would just be gross.”
“Mmm.”
“Mmm?”
Leslie shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Okay. So now that we’re acting like teenagers and talking about sex, when was your first time?”
“I’ll give you a hint. I was the oldest virgin at college.”
“No way.”
“Yes.”
“Man, those boys had to be falling all over you. You’re gorgeous. How’d you manage?”
“I had this silly idea I’d wait until marriage.”
“And I take it you didn’t.” She stared. “Michael’s not your first, is he?”
“No. Of course not. I held out until my senior year. It was torture. Most of the girls knew I was still a virgin. I got teased constantly.”
“Hope he was at least cute.”
Leslie laughed. “No. It was awful. He was a virgin too.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Yeah. Pretty bad.”
“Then what?”
“Well, I thought, so what’s all the fuss about? Sex is way overrated.”
Casey laughed. “I hope your girlfriends didn’t know the guy was a virgin.”
“Probably. What was worse, we continued to date the rest of that semester.”
“Did he get any better in bed?”
“Not one bit.”
“Poor girl.”
“Yeah.”
“So, now—”
“No, no, no. I will not discuss my sex life with you.”
Casey leaned back and relaxed. “Good. I like you. I try not to think about you and a guy.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed. What the hell? She closed her eyes, hoping Leslie wouldn’t comment. She didn’t.
But the truth was, she did like Leslie. And she also realized she tended to forget Leslie was living with a guy and engaged to be married. And probably having heterosexual sex every night. Gross. But there was something about the way Leslie carried herself, something about the look in her eyes. Something about the casual way she touched her all the time. There was something about her that drew Casey. She liked being near her, like now. Just sitting, not talking. Just being in her physical presence, it did something to her.
She turned to look out the window. Jesus, please don’t get a crush on your straight partner. Idiot.
&nb
sp; “Kinda quiet around here,” Leslie said after a long silence. “Want to head to Brookhaven?”
Casey sat up straight. “Yeah, sure.” She started the truck and backed away, then smiled. “You know, there were a couple of guys lurking around the pool area. Maybe we should put those down, huh?”
“Yeah, I think I will, just to give Sikes something to comment on.”
“Okay, Brookhaven, that’s up near Ross, right?”
“Yeah, this side of Ross,” she said, looking at her notes.
Casey crossed over Bryan, going through the residential area before nearing Ross. “You’d think I’d know them all by now, but they’re starting to run together.”
“Brookhaven is right on the edge of our radius. I think if we don’t have any hits this week, I’d feel comfortable striking it off the list. That would give us less to monitor.”
“Yeah, but I have this fear we’re going to be at one apartment while a murder is going on at another.”
“I know. I’ve thought of that too. But we can’t possibly be everywhere at once.”
“No. But I’ve been thinking. On nights when Hunter and Sikes are pulling apartment duty, I think I may cruise Deep Ellum. If we really think Patrick our homeless guy is a person of interest, then it wouldn’t hurt to look for him where he hangs out.”
“But we don’t have any idea what he looks like.”
“No. But based on what Maria said, he’s younger than most and has more assets. I’d take that to mean he may not actually look like a homeless person. Maybe his clothes aren’t quite as worn and ratty. Maybe he’s clean-shaven.”
“Okay. I’m game.”
Casey shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean for you to join me. Three nights a week is plenty. It’s just, you know, I’ve got free time.”
“Well, I have two problems with that. One, if it’s part of working the case, whether or not I have free time is not an issue. And two, you shouldn’t be out alone without backup. And I’d venture to guess if Malone knew that, he’d have your ass.”
Casey found a parking spot on the middle row and cut the engine. “Yeah, he probably would. But I was really just planning on observing, not trying to arrest someone.”
“Sorry. You’re still not doing it alone.”
“We’ll talk about it,” Casey conceded. But she recognized the look in Leslie’s eyes and realized they had already talked about it. Okay, so she wouldn’t go out alone. She turned away, allowing a brief smile. It’d been awhile since someone worried about her. “Don’t forget to put your cell on vibrate,” she said as she got out.
“Already did. I hate cell phones.”
“Yeah. A necessary evil.”
They blended into the shadows, walking between the buildings and heading to the common area. After nine on a Wednesday night, there weren’t very many people milling about, with the exception of the pool. There appeared to be six or eight people still in the water.
“Lots of shrubs and bushes,” Leslie noted.
“And short fences around the patios. Not much privacy.” She stopped, pointing. “There, for instance. Blinds are open. You can see all the way through the living room and into the kitchen.”
“Yeah. Two guys sitting around with their shirts off. They probably do it on purpose.”
Casey snorted. “Yeah, that’s the way to attract women.”
Leslie smiled and touched her arm, holding her. “You want to stop and give them pointers?”
“I mean, my God, he’s got hair all over his back.” She shuddered. “That’s disgusting.” She glanced quickly at Leslie. “Should I apologize? I mean, does Michael have—?”
“No. No hairy back.” Then she laughed. “And please say you’re not picturing Michael naked.”
“Of course not.” Not Michael anyway. She kept walking, feeling Leslie’s hand slip away from her arm.
They were quiet as they walked past the pool, moving slowly as if taking an evening stroll. There were picnic tables and benches on the lawn, but they were empty at this hour. They crossed the sidewalk, moving to the other side. The shadows were heavier here, the trees blocking out the light from the security lamps. They both saw him at once and they stopped, instinctively shrinking back against the building.
He walked in quick, short steps, stopping frequently to look around him, then moving on again. Casey felt Leslie tense beside her.
“You think it’s him?” she whispered.
Casey wanted to think it was him, but he was too far away to make out his features or his clothes.
“Let’s follow.”
They moved silently, slowly, staying hidden behind the shrubs. They stopped when he stopped and moved when he moved. Leslie was anxious, Casey could tell. She grabbed her arm, keeping her quiet beside her. The man finally stopped, creeping along the short fence of one of the apartments. The light was on, but the blinds drawn. When he hopped the fence, Casey felt Leslie stir.
“It’s gotta be him,” she said, moving out of the shadows.
Casey grabbed her, clamping one hand over her mouth and pulling her back against her, holding her still. “Shhh,” she whispered in her ear. She felt Leslie tremble against her and the hand at Leslie’s waist tightened involuntarily. It was only then she realized their position.
“Shhh.”
Leslie wasn’t prepared. She had no time to react. She felt her body tremble as Casey’s larger frame wrapped around her. Her vision swam as hips molded against her buttocks and two firm breasts pressed into her back. God, couldn’t she have worn a bra?
“Watch,” Casey whispered into her ear as she removed the hand covering her mouth.
But the hand at her waist remained, and Leslie tried to focus on their guy, but all she could think about was the woman who held her so close, and the hand still resting at her waist.
“I don’t think he’s our guy.”
Leslie nodded, blinking several times to clear her head. Move away. But she couldn’t. She stayed rooted to the spot, safely within the confines of Casey’s arms. She relaxed, letting her body rest comfortably against Casey as they watched. The man pressed his face against the glass, as if looking inside. Then, to their surprise, he started knocking lightly. The blinds were pulled apart and a woman’s face appeared. She broke into a smile then disappeared. A few seconds later, the back door opened and the two embraced and shared a kiss.
What the hell?
But still, she couldn’t concentrate. She felt Casey’s grip loosen, but she couldn’t move away. She closed her eyes, absorbing her warmth, imagining the breasts that were pressed against her. She bit her lip, containing the tiny moan that threatened to escape. Finally—mercifully—Casey stepped away.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
Leslie ignored her comment. If she acknowledged it, then she acknowledged what had just happened. And she knew she couldn’t do that. She knew she had to ignore what had just happened. “So they know each other?”
“I’d guess.”
“An affair?”
Casey shrugged, moving on. “Who knows?”
And so the rest of the night went, with short questions and even shorter answers. They hit five complexes. And nothing noteworthy to report at any of them. When Casey dropped her off at her car later, their good-bye was as brief and abrupt as their conversation had been.
But she didn’t dwell on it. She drove home without thinking, conscious of the tight grip she had on the steering wheel. And thankfully, Michael wasn’t home yet. She locked the door, went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. After drinking nearly half, she took the bottle with her, going into the bathroom and locking that door as well, stripping where she stood as the tub filled with hot water.
Only when she sank into bubbles up to her neck—wineglass in one hand—did she acknowledge what had happened tonight. It could be construed as perfectly innocent. It wasn’t Casey’s fault that her body had responded. But then again, Casey knew, didn’t she? Why else would she have been so withdrawn f
or the rest of the evening? Casey had to have known how her body responded.
She took a sip of wine, letting in memories she thought were long buried, long forgotten. But all it had taken was a few short moments of being held in another woman’s arms for them to surface.
She’d been nineteen, young and naive. Her mother was already on her second marriage, this one to a musician twenty years younger. And as far as relationships went, she knew what she didn’t want. She didn’t want a marriage like her parents, one that ended in divorce. And she certainly didn’t want what her mother had, one man after another, trying to fill the void left by her divorce. No, she wanted a normal life, a normal marriage, a normal man. And so she’d had a plan. Study hard, graduate with honors, get a good job, marry a nice man and move into a big house in the suburbs. And having a female lover didn’t enter into the equation.
Carol Ann.
Leslie let her eyes slip closed, remembering the girl from her past, the one who had stirred such passion within her. Two strangers thrown together because neither had a roommate, they were assigned a room in the dorm. Strangers, yes, but Leslie was drawn to her from the start. Tall and lanky, confident and sure, Carol Ann just exuded sex appeal. The first time Leslie saw her naked, she remembered how her heart skipped a beat. She remembered how dry her mouth got just watching Carol Ann. And to her horror, Carol Ann noticed.
And Carol Ann was thrilled. Because she was a lesbian. The first time they kissed, Leslie was sure she was going to pass out. It was nothing like the kisses she’d had from boys. No, Carol Ann’s lips were soft, not bruising. But still, Leslie fought it. She wasn’t a lesbian. It didn’t fit into her plan.
But she couldn’t resist. The chaste kisses turned to more. Each night, Carol Ann would come to her, climbing into the twin bed with her. Leslie tried to fight it. She did. But she simply couldn’t turn away. Kissing and make-out sessions eventually led to touching. Each time she stopped it before it went too far. And each time, Carol Ann backed away, never forcing her.
No one ever knew. They didn’t hang out together at school. They didn’t share any of the same friends or classes. At night, it was just their secret. They would undress and lay naked, touching. And desire would build as Carol Ann’s mouth feasted on her small breasts. Yes, she wanted her. But she never let her go all the way, always stopping her before her hand could creep between her legs and into the wetness she’d caused. She was a virgin. She was saving herself for marriage. And eventually, Carol Ann gave up, tiring of their game. The next semester, she moved on and Leslie got a new roommate. And she safely tucked away the memories, shoving them away as if it never happened.