Partners

by Gerri Hill

  She felt Casey’s weight shift off her, then whimpered as Casey’s hand moved past her waist to her hips. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Never had she needed like this, never had she been on the verge of begging someone to make love to her before, never had she thought she would die from the want of it. In agonizing slowness, Casey’s fingers danced across her skin, driving her mad with desire, with need, with a hunger that demanded to be satisfied. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, Casey’s fingers dipped lower, brushing through her wetness, touching the inside of her thighs lightly, pushing her legs apart.

  She felt Casey pause and she opened her eyes, finding Casey’s.

  “Yes.” Yes to everything.

  And then, finally, Casey touched her, her fingers gliding into her, filling her. God, yes. She arched, taking Casey inside, holding her there. Then she lowered her hips again, feeling Casey withdraw—almost—then those fingers took her again, filling her, moving with a rhythm that Leslie set, her hips rocking gently with each stroke. She tried to open her eyes, she wanted to watch Casey as she took her, but her eyes refused to cooperate, remaining shut as her hips moved faster and faster, feeling Casey taking her harder and harder.

  The only sounds the slick wetness as Casey plunged inside her and frantic breathing of both of them. Yes, yes, yes, yes, she silently chanted as she felt her body drift away from her, pulling at her soul, threatening to rip her apart. When she was certain she would literally explode, when her brain simply ceased to function any longer, she felt Casey’s fingers withdraw, replaced immediately by her mouth. Hot lips closed over her aching clit, and she grasped the sheets in her fists, trying to hold on, but Casey took her over the edge. Her scream—a deep guttural sound—came from her soul, and in her haze she wondered if she’d ever really had an orgasm before.

  But she had no time to recover. Casey gathered her hips to her, her mouth still feasting, suckling her, her tongue delving deep inside her. No, she couldn’t possibly respond again, her body was too spent, her mind too drained. But she did. Like a slow crescendo, it built, tugging at her, pushing her forward. She opened her eyes, watching as Casey nestled between her legs. The sight of this woman pleasuring her—making love to her—was her undoing. Her hips jerked once, hard against Casey’s face, then she squeezed her thighs together, holding Casey, letting her take the last of her orgasm in her mouth…and then she collapsed.

  Casey leaned on her elbow, watching Leslie as she caught her breath, unable to stop her hand as it found its way across her body, lightly caressing Leslie’s skin, moving to her breast. The nipple hardened against her palm, and she squeezed, feeling Leslie stir. Brown eyes opened, then closed again as a contented smile touched her lips.

  “Is wow an adequate enough description?” Leslie asked as she rolled toward her. “I thought I was going to pass out.”

  “Mmm.”

  Casey lay back, pulling Leslie’s warm body to her, her own eyes closing as Leslie’s hand shyly cupped her breast, teasing her.

  “Your skin is so soft.” Leslie leaned closer, her lips moving across her breast, finally closing over her nipple.

  Casey moaned, forcing her eyes open as she watched Leslie at her breast. Was it too soon? Had they rushed things? She let her eyes slip closed as Leslie moved to her other breast. No, it was inevitable. Today, next week, it didn’t matter when.

  “You like that?”

  Casey smiled. “Mmm.”

  “Can I…can I touch you?”

  Casey finally opened her eyes, forgetting this was Leslie’s first time. She pulled Leslie to her, kissing her slowly, hearing her moan. “I want you to touch me,” she whispered.

  Leslie didn’t need any more encouragement as her hand glided down her body, past her hips. There was no hesitation, she simply parted her thighs, her fingers moving through her wetness, touching her.

  “Oh, God,” Leslie breathed, her eyes finding Casey’s. “Can I touch you with my mouth?”

  Casey merely nodded, unable to speak. There was a hunger in Leslie’s eyes she’d not seen before. A look of sheer desire, of longing. She was suddenly terrified she wouldn’t be able to stand it.

  Again, there was no hesitation as Leslie slid down her body, her hands and mouth moving across her skin, nearly burning her where they touched. She spread her legs, her back arching, silently begging Leslie to hurry. Leslie’s mouth moved across her stomach, leaving light kisses behind, finding the sensitive spot at the curve of her hip, causing her to moan.

  “Yes.” Oh, yes.

  She felt Leslie cup her hips, felt her settle between her thighs, felt her breath against her wet skin. She forced her eyes open, watching. Then Leslie looked up, meeting her gaze.

  “I’ve been dreaming of you my whole life,” she whispered.

  Any reply Casey had was lost as Leslie lowered her head, her tongue slipping inside her, her mouth covering her—kissing and tugging—driving out all thought except for the reality that this woman was nestled between her thighs, devouring her.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Leslie stared at herself in the mirror, wondering why she didn’t look different this morning. She certainly felt different.

  Would anyone know? Would anyone know she’d spent the last two days in another woman’s bed? She gripped the countertop hard, still not used to the flood of desire that stole over her every time she thought of Casey making love to her, and her loving Casey. Just once more, she’d begged Casey.

  Just once more.

  One more kiss, one more touch. But it was never enough. And Saturday turned into Sunday while they explored every inch of each other, finding the secret places, driving each other over the edge again and again.

  And it was still not enough.

  She turned on the faucet, splashing her face with water, remembering every kiss, every touch, every time she screamed out Casey’s name.

  “Good Lord,” she murmured. Even now, she could still feel her desire, could still smell Casey, taste her. Could still imagine her fingers as they slid into her wetness, stroking her, making her come again and again.

  She turned the water off, again staring at herself. How was she ever going to get through the day? When she saw Casey, how was she going to stop from touching her? How was she going to be able to look at her and not want her?

  Why hadn’t they discussed it? Had they even talked at all? No, not really. Certainly not about Michael. They didn’t have to. Casey had touched her finger where the ring had been. There was no need to bring Michael into their weekend.

  But the rest? No, they’d not talked about it. Like Casey had said once, it was very scary. But what do they do now? They acknowledged their attraction, yes. They acted on that attraction. Now what?

  Panic and fear crowded in at once, nearly choking her. Was that it? One weekend? Was Casey satisfied? Or would they date now? Or would Casey think that they needed to see other people?

  Does she think I want to see other women?

  She took deep breaths, wondering why everything suddenly seemed so complicated. So they had sex. It was just a natural progression. They were attracted to each other, so they had sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Right. Then why did her insides feel all jumbled up? Why was her heart lodged in her throat? And why was she hiding out in the ladies’ room at seven thirty in the morning?

  Before an answer came to her, the door opened. She looked up, catching the reflection in the mirror. In that one glance, her fears subsided as quickly as they’d come. Because the look in Casey’s eyes was the same look she’d seen all weekend. Desire. Understanding. And the barely veiled look of longing. She turned slowly, absorbing the warmth and affection she found there, surprised she was able to stop from flinging herself into Casey’s arms.

  “You okay?”

  Leslie nodded, afraid to speak.

  Casey let the door close behind her, then came closer. Too close. This time Leslie couldn’t stop and she moved her hand, capturing Casey’s fingers with her own.r />
  “We probably should have talked,” Casey said, her lips hinting at a smile.

  “Yes. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act this morning.”

  They stared at each other, their fingers still touching. Then Casey finally did smile, squeezing her fingers before moving away. “We’ll be fine,” she said. “We’re partners.” She went to the door, then stopped, turning back around. “I had a fantastic weekend. How was yours?”

  Leslie laughed, feeling the tension leave the room. “Yeah. It was a wonderful weekend.”

  “Good.” Casey stepped out, then stuck her head back inside. “Maybe we could do it again? Soon?”

  “Yes. I’d like that.”

  “Good.” Then she winked at her. “See? We’ve talked about it.”

  The door closed behind her and Leslie turned back to the mirror, meeting her own eyes again. There was a different kind of fear in them this time.

  I think I’m falling in love with her.

  Of course, considering how she just spent the weekend, she hoped it was more than just lust that had kept her in Casey’s bed for two days.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  They crowded around Malone’s desk, shuffling the visitor’s chairs to fit them all. Tori tipped her chair back, leaning against the wall as she watched O’Connor and Tucker. There was something going on with them. First of all, they sat as far away from each other as possible, which Tori found strange. Normally, they were practically joined at the hip. And secondly, they weren’t looking at each other. She arched an eyebrow as she casually glanced at Leslie’s hand. No ring.

  No ring?

  “Okay, let’s go over it,” Malone said. “I finally got the approval for the twenty-four hour tag on your John Doe. I had to pull in favors on this one, seeing as how he’s not even a suspect.”

  “His brother—”

  “Yes, the mystery brother—or sister, depending on his mood.” Malone looked at Casey. “O’Connor, I understand you two talked to him on Friday. Why don’t you fill us in?”

  O’Connor crossed her legs and glanced over at Leslie quickly. “Well, as everyone knows, we’d been looking for John all week. We finally spotted him Friday afternoon. In a dress.”

  “What the hell?”

  “He said it was his turn to be the sister. Basically, whenever Patrick wants him to be the sister, he leaves the dress. So when John wakes up and the dress is there, he knows he’s to be the sister.”

  “And what’s the purpose of that?” Sikes asked.

  “We have no idea,” Leslie said. “John doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t ask. He merely does as his brother tells him.”

  “You think it could be for an alibi?” Tori asked. “I mean, if John is seen on the street in the dress, they’ll just assume it’s Patrick, like always.”

  “I think the dress is a quirk of Patrick’s,” Leslie said, “but I don’t think it’s the norm for him.”

  “John kept saying they were opposite,” Casey said. “When he’s awake, during the day, Patrick sleeps. At night, he sleeps, and Patrick is out and about. And they don’t normally sleep together.”

  “John said Patrick stays inside, where it’s cold and dark. The hole in the wall,” Leslie said.

  “A warehouse?”

  “There are plenty of abandoned buildings. They would be cold and dark.”

  “John is like a child,” Leslie said. “He sees things in black and white. When we asked him where Patrick slept he said the hole in the wall. That’s because that’s what he sees. He doesn’t see a building or a warehouse, or whatever. To him, he sees Patrick going into a hole in the wall.”

  “And I got the impression he was afraid of that hole,” Casey added.

  “Tell Malone about the twin part,” Tori said.

  “Oh, yeah. Not just brothers. He said they were twins.”

  “Identical twins?” Malone asked. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Not identical,” Leslie said. “Their DNA is different.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, I checked with Mac,” Tori said. “Identical twins have identical DNA. John’s DNA sequence suggests it’s a relative, thus his brother. Mac said identical twins come from one egg that splits, so it’s essentially two of the same egg. Fraternal twins start out as two separate eggs. They could end up looking alike, but they won’t be identical.”

  “Mac told you all this and you actually understood?” Casey teased.

  “Hey, I’m not as dumb as I look,” Tori said as she tossed a pen at her.

  “No. It’s just that I’ve been with you before when Mac’s explaining DNA. I’ve seen the blank look on your face.”

  “Kids, can we focus on this, please?”

  “Sorry, Lieutenant,” they said in unison.

  “Okay, we have three murders associated with this. The other case…four months ago now?” He shuffled through his files. “The one Donaldson and Walker had. Yes, Christine Farmer. Twenty-six. Cascade apartments. Then we go nearly three months before we got Dana Burrows, the college student, at Stone Ridge apartments. Now, Rhonda Hampton, again at Cascades. All women in their twenties, all lived alone.”

  “All on ground floor units,” Sikes added.

  “None of the women were raped, yet semen was found on each victim,” Tori said.

  “Don’t forget about Rudy Bobby,” Casey said. “Our homeless guy was killed with the same murder weapon as our girls.”

  “And the matching fiber,” Leslie reminded them.

  “Right. There was a fiber found on Dana Burrows,” Malone said. “It matched the blanket covering the homeless guy.”

  “Tox on Rudy Bobby showed cocaine. Something that John said,” Casey said, glancing at Sikes. “Not you. The other John. He said Patrick gives him money. And he said Patrick is out and about at night, not during the day. Piece that together with the fact that the others on the street are afraid of Patrick—”

  “Drug dealer?”

  “I wouldn’t say dealer. I’m guessing more of a carrier. And I’d bet Rudy Bobby stole some from Patrick and that got him killed. Maybe Rudy Bobby was following him around, saw stuff he shouldn’t. Maybe he followed him to the apartment, saw the murder, went inside—”

  “Unknowingly left a fiber,” Leslie said.

  “Or maybe he saw the murder and blackmailed Patrick, trading his silence for cocaine,” Sikes suggested.

  Casey nodded. “Might be more plausible than stealing it, you’re right.”

  “I still don’t get the dress thing,” Malone said. He looked at Tucker. “You said a quirk of his, but not the norm. What are your thoughts?”

  “I think, like Tori said, it’s some sort of alibi. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s in the dress when he kills his victims. We’ve all been wondering how he gets inside their apartments. Dressed as a woman, a young woman at that, would probably be fairly easy to get them to open their doors.” She looked at Casey. “If anyone spots him coming or going, they’ve spotted a woman.”

  “And maybe getting John to wear the dress occasionally allows Patrick to be on the streets during the day posing as John. I got the impression from John that Patrick is rarely out and about during the day. So on the occasions when he does want—or need—to be out, he gets John to wear the dress, and Patrick morphs into John, leaving the real Patrick still under cover.”

  Tori stared at her, shaking her head. “Jesus Christ, O’Connor, I think you’ve taken a few too many psychology classes. He morphs into John? You don’t think he’s just a punk who gets off dressing like women?”

  “I think Casey’s right,” Leslie said. “It goes beyond playing dress-up. And I know we’ve never met Patrick, don’t even know what he looks like, but I would think, as John says, they are quite opposite. I think he’s very intelligent, whereas John is not. I would assume he is calculating, meticulous. John is childlike, simple, and therefore easily manipulated. I think the dress is just part of the game. I don’t believe he does it for any emotio
nal reasons.”

  Malone leaned back in his chair, slowly rubbing his bald head, watching them. He met Tori’s eyes and raised his eyebrows. She shrugged.

  “Captain wants us to bring CIU in, along with a profiler,” he said. “Personally, I hate when CIU gets involved.” He glanced quickly at Tori again. “Sorry. No offense to Sam.”

  Tori smiled. “I feel exactly the same way, Lieutenant.”

  “Good. Then let’s try to wrap this up. Twenty-four hour detail. You decide how you break it up. No one goes out alone,” he said, casting a look at Casey. “If we need help, I can try to pull someone from another squad. I’d suggest Donaldson and Walker, but—”

  “We can manage, Lieutenant,” Tori said quickly. “Like you said, let’s try to wrap this up.”

  “Very well. But I want you to keep me posted. I’ve got a meeting with Hagen over at Narcotics, want to see if maybe this Patrick guy is on their radar.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I mean it. Let me know what you get. The captain wants an update by the end of the day. I’m guessing we have a couple more days before CIU and a profiler come calling.”

  “Well, Leslie and I are going to head over to the shelter,” Casey said. “We want to talk to Maria again. She knows John. She may not know Patrick, but maybe she knows Patty.”

  “Looks like Sikes and I get the first shift then,” Tori said as she stood. She pointed at Casey and Leslie. “You two need to get some rest this afternoon if you’re taking the night shift.”

  “An afternoon nap?”

  “Yeah, O’Connor, you’re going to wish you had a nap when two a.m. rolls around and you’re cruising the streets.”

  “Okay. So we’ll switch out at what? Seven? Eight?”

  “Let’s say eight. And take a radio in case we need dispatch.”

  “Ten-four,” Casey said with a grin.

  Tori walked out with Casey, nudging her shoulder. “So? You have a good weekend?” she asked quietly. She was surprised at the slight blush that colored Casey’s face.