The flashes of red and blue in front of Stitch’s house made her heart beat double time, putting more caution rather than urgency in her movements. She was honestly afraid to turn the car off and step out.
What happened?
Why were the cops here?
She couldn’t see him outside or in any of the patrol vehicles in front of his yard. There were three vehicles and an ambulance. The ambulance had her heart rate skyrocketing to dangerous levels.
After a shitty day at work and putting Dee’s emotions through the ringer, she wanted to snuggle with Stitch, even if he wasn’t the snuggling kind of guy, and tell him the good news. That she helped him like he asked.
Now she had to deal with this. Finding out what this was scared her right down to her very core. It looked like she was arriving to a crime scene, and nothing ever good happened at a crime scene. She would know. She dealt with them day in and day out.
Sucking in a deep breath and then letting it out slowly, she finally found a small ounce of courage and opened her car door. What felt like minutes later, she stepped out of her vehicle and made her way down the sidewalk and to his front door.
Officer Spencer stood there jotting something down in his little notepad that most officers carried.
“Hey, Susan. I didn’t know we called you guys.”
Swallowing hard first, she then offered a tiny smile, shocked she even managed to produce one. “Nobody called me. I was…” Well, she didn’t want to admit Stitch’s house was her destination. “I was driving by and saw the commotion. Stitch lives here. He’s best friends with Dee. Is everything okay?”
She swore her heart was ready to fly out of her chest as she waited for him to answer. It had to be a good sign they didn’t need to call in any crime scene techs. But why three cop cars? Why were they here?
“Yeah. It’s just a domestic call. I didn’t know he knew Dee.”
Domestic call? What did that mean? She needed answers. Ones that would ease her panic and calm her racing heart.
“So he’s okay? I need some details, Spencer.” She laughed to make it appear like it was no big deal when deep inside she was terrified to hear it.
He glanced down at his notebook, then back at her. “Looks like a verbal argument with his girlfriend that almost turned physical. When we got here, she locked herself in his bathroom. Officer Brockman got her to open the door. Looks like she broke his mirror and tried to cut herself. Hence, the ambulance. The paramedics are still in the house. He’s fine. As far as I know, he didn’t call the cops. The neighbors did. He’s not being very cooperative.”
Susan nodded at everything Spencer said, but only one word stood out.
Girlfriend.
Stitch had a girlfriend.
And the bastard had the nerve to sleep with her. Multiple times. Wow. She sure knew how to pick some real winners. She’d been on the receiving end of a cheater once. She dated a workaholic who wasn’t even sad when they broke up. She dated a single dad whose kids hated her simply because she was the new woman, and he honestly never stopped them when they said horrible words to her face. She dated a nice, boring man who never wanted to venture out of the house for a quiet date night. A big, boring homebody.
Now, she could tack on lying, cheating bastard where she was the other woman.
Honestly, how much worse could this week get? It was only Tuesday.
“Everything okay, Susan?”
She nodded with a smile. “I wanted to make sure everything was good. I’ll just…” The word leave was on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to run as fast as she could and pretend this didn’t happen. But Stitch needed to know who he was dealing with. It wasn’t some meek and mild woman that would let a man run over her heart and play games with her. “…say a quick hi to Stitch.”
Spencer smiled and stepped to the side so she could enter the house. She waved at Officer Brockman, who stood in the living room where the paramedics were dealing with a woman who looked to have seen better days. Her dark brown hair was a tangled mess. Her clothes hung on her gauntly body. Her eyes were deep pits surrounded by shallow black circles. She didn’t look like a woman Stitch would date. But what the hell did she know? She honestly couldn’t say she knew Stitch all that well. Obviously. Because he played her for a big stupid fool.
She found Stitch in the kitchen by himself.
The minute she stepped into the room, his eyes darted to hers. He looked surprised with a hint of panic, then masked it all with his cocky smirk he probably perfected as a rowdy teenager.
Dragging a hand through his hair, his smooth voice asked, “What are you doing here, shorty? Did they call you?”
She didn’t admit outside to Spencer his house had been her destination, and she wasn’t about to admit that to Stitch either. His dumb nickname for her was obviously his way of distancing himself from her, to hide what an asshole he was. Well, news flash. She knew how big of an asshole he was.
“I was driving by and saw the commotion. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
The slow way his eyebrow rose said he didn’t believe her. Yeah, okay, it was a ridiculous lie. She had no reason to be driving by in his neighborhood.
“I’m fine.”
A small, lame chuckle left her mouth. “I see that. Your girlfriend doesn’t appear to be fine, though.”
“Who told you she’s my girlfriend?”
“So you’re not denying it?”
He hung his head down, effectively averting his eyes. Not that she needed to read his expression to know the truth. “You should’ve never come.”
“No, Stitch, you should’ve never turned out to be such a bastard.”
With those parting words, she left. He didn’t try to stop her once. She almost wanted to hate him for that as well. He could’ve at least given her the courtesy of the truth. Tell her why he’d sleep with her when he was dating someone else.
Well, now she understood why he wanted only sex with her. Because he had the relationship part with someone else. She apparently was only good for sex.
She barely said a word to anyone as she walked out of the house, or even glanced at the woman as they walked her to the ambulance.
She didn’t look in the rearview mirror once as she drove away.
Stitch could go screw himself.
Chapter 7
Stitch locked the door after the last officer left and then grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the kitchen and poured himself a full glass. He downed the entire glass with one long swallow. The smooth liquid burned his throat, but soothed his nerves.
He poured another full glass.
He couldn’t erase the look on Susan’s face. The look of shock. Of shame. Of disgust. He had no one to blame but himself.
A simple explanation would’ve cleared up the whole misunderstanding. A stupid misunderstanding.
He assumed one of the officers had to have told her Clarissa was his girlfriend. Maybe once upon a time she was. Now, she was turning into a big headache. A slow, smoldering one that gradually grew until you couldn’t take it anymore.
He was reaching his boiling point with her, which was probably why he didn’t try to stop them from arresting her. He didn’t make excuses for her, although, he barely told the cops what occurred between them. He didn’t even say goodbye before they hauled her out of his house.
He hoped like hell Clarissa got clean before she came back knocking on his door again. This shit had to stop. Her stopping by, high as a kite, looking for money for more drugs, although, claiming in her sweet, innocent voice it was money for rent and food. He wasn’t an idiot. Something he told her tonight, then the word no. After that, it all unraveled into a big cluster. She slapped him hard across the face, then started to scream at the top of her lungs. He didn’t do anything but stand there and wait for her to calm down, which would’ve happened if his dumbass neighbor hadn’t called the cops, who then knocked on the door, frightening her into locking herself in the bathroom and hurting herself.
Yeah, he felt guilty all of that went down, but he wasn’t sorry to see her go.
The only woman he wanted to say goodbye to, hell, not even let her leave, he told her to get out.
Susan called him a bastard. He couldn’t deny it.
It was for the best she left. She would’ve figured out soon enough how much of a bastard he could be. Today worked fine.
Pouring one more shot, he downed it with haste then chucked the glass at the wall. The glass shattered, raining down over the floor. Before he could control himself, he threw the bottle of whiskey in the same spot and watched, with a hollowed, empty feeling, as the golden liquid splattered against the wall and slid down in streaks.
He wasted an expensive bottle of whiskey, only half consumed, and he didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. The only guilt he felt was his behavior toward Susan.
What a dick. A complete and absolute dick.
It just showed how unworthy he was of someone as sweet and pure as her.
He went to bed, barely sleeping a wink, and walked into work the next morning with the foulest mood he had had in a long time. Even Stacey didn’t try to speak to him to find out the problem, and she normally didn’t shy away from him.
By mid-morning, he still hadn’t wiped clear the bad mood and figured he should’ve rescheduled his next client for another day. He didn’t.
When John walked in to get the tattoo he worked hard on in remembrance of his son he lost, he attempted to clear his mind of any negative thoughts. About the only thing he could be thankful for as he started to apply the stencil to John’s back was his wrist felt good today. Strong and healthy, as if it never gave him problems.
This tattoo was big, covering the majority of John’s back. It would take several sittings. Today they would tackle the outline. Despite his sour mood, he was looking forward to working. Tattooing, creating art, always pulled him into a Zen-like status. Everything in his life always disappeared. The only thing that mattered was the work of art before him.
He figured out drawing was his escape at an early age. Sketching little scenes as his mother hollered and yelled, sometimes at no one in particular. Drawing pictures in school, drowning out the insensitive and cruel words flung at him.
Then meeting a man on his way home from school one day.
A tattoo artist.
Tattooing saved his life.
Drawing calmed him down. Tattooing centered his entire world into peace.
Several hours later, a small twinge in his wrist said it was time to quit for the day. He sadly had two more clients in the afternoon. He hated to do it, but he’d move them to Jensen’s schedule. There were certain perks to being the boss.
Those few hours gave him some peace he had been lacking since last night. It gave him some clarity into the situation he created.
He needed to apologize to Susan. She deserved an explanation instead of a big ol’ screw you.
A loud knock sounded on his door as he was clearing up the mess from John’s session. Before he could deny the person entry, the door swung open.
“Is there still a bug up your ass?” Stacey asked as she chomped her gum, then blew a bubble and popped it with a loud snap.
Dangerous, spiteful words sat on the tip of his tongue, especially since she knew he hated when she chewed and snapped her gum like that. It was one of his worst pet peeves. Like nails on a damn chalkboard.
She snapped her gum again. “You got a visitor, Mr. Crabby Pants. I’ll send him back.”
Before he could disagree, she stepped back and slammed his door shut. He flinched, suddenly exhausted from the day, from the harrowing emotions swarming his system and invading his veins like a needle filled with drugs.
He wanted to go home and think about the right words to say to Susan, not deal with whomever had the misfortune to walk through that door, because he wasn’t sure he’d be pleasant with the person.
When a soft knock sounded on the door, he grumbled for them to enter, and went back to clearing up his mess. He couldn’t hide his surprise when Sauer opened the door.
“Deena okay?”
Sauer nodded with a huge smile. “She’s much better.” Sauer ran a hand through his hair as he stepped further into the room. “She told the ladies last night that we’re expecting our first child and I can already see a small weight has lifted off her shoulders. I mean, the worry is still there that she’ll be a terrible mother, but she seemed less stressed. Thank you, Stitch. I don’t know what you did, but thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Susan did all the hard work. He figured right then, that’s why she must’ve stopped by his house last night to tell him the news. Instead, he acted like a dick.
“Well, you must’ve done something. I didn’t think she’d ever tell them.”
Stitch laughed. “I’m pretty sure a large belly would’ve been clue enough of what she was trying to hide.”
Sauer laughed with him. “True enough. I didn’t mean to bother you again. I wanted to tell you in person thank you. Whatever you did, or may not have done, thank you.” He glanced at his watch and groaned. “I better go. I had to make this quick. I don’t want to leave Newman alone at a crime scene without me, especially when I know Susan will be there. Thanks again.”
Sauer turned around to walk out. Stitch rounded the chair standing between them with a speed he wasn’t accustomed to using and stopped him from leaving with a firm hand to the shoulder. Sauer flinched and jumped as he looked at him.
He dropped his hand from Sauer. “What the hell are you talking about? Is Susan okay?”
Confusion sprinkled around Sauer’s face, which didn’t concern him. The shock that lit up his eyes should’ve, but it didn’t. He needed to know Susan was okay, and by that semi-cryptic statement, it didn’t sound promising.
“Uh…she’s fine. They…it’s been tense at work lately.”
Why didn’t he know this? Why didn’t she tell him?
Well, that didn’t take a genius to figure out. Because he didn’t want anything more from her than sex.
“Have you…” Sauer hesitated, his cheeks turning a slight shade of red. “Have you seen Susan since the ball?”
A fair question. One he deserved to be asked, especially with the way he reacted to hearing her name. He almost knocked Sauer down when he tried to stop him from leaving.
“I’ve seen her here and there. If she’s having a problem, I’d like to know.”
Sauer nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Well?”
He averted his eyes, his cheeks turning a darker shade of red. “It’s…it’s a work thing.”
“Tell me, Sauer.”
Maybe it was the tone of his voice, sharp and foreboding. Sauer’s head snapped in his direction. They stared hard at each other.
“Do you like Susan?”
“None of your damn business.”
“If you want me to talk about her, then it’s my business.”
He wasn’t in the mood to tell Sauer shit about his relationship, or lack thereof, with Susan. Sauer might be Deena’s husband, but he’d hit the guy if he had to. If Susan had a problem, especially with a guy, he wanted to know.
“You don’t scare me, Stitch.”
“Why, because you think I won’t take a swing because you’re married to Deena?”
“She’d be upset if you did that, but no. I can hold my own in a fight, if that’s what you’re gearing for. Susan is my friend.” He hesitated, then his eyes narrowed. “I’m not about to add more issues on her plate by telling you anything if you’re going to add to her problems.”
He already added to her problems last night, but Sauer didn’t need to know that. He still owed her an apology.
“Forget it. I’ll ask her myself.”
“Just know one thing, Stitch. Susan’s my friend, and nobody hurts my friends.”
Well, if he didn’t know any better, Sauer just threatened him. It was almost laughable, because Sauer didn’t scare him one bit. But h
e didn’t laugh. Because he needed someone to say shit like that to him.
He might end up hurting her even more than he already had. Someone needed to beat the shit out of him when he did.
Sauer could be the guy to do it.
♡
This guy was escalating, and quickly. This was the third death in less than a week. Three women. No connections. No evidence at any scene…that she knew about yet. She was still currently processing the third scene.
All strangled. All raped.
For once in her life, she didn’t have any motivation to do her job. She felt tired and weary. Everything happening in her life was starting to bring her down and hold her there with no room to breathe. She could feel herself drowning and she didn’t know how to rise back to the surface to take a breath.
It didn’t help walking into work this morning and having her boss breathe down her neck once again for something so petty and ridiculous, she stood there and took it. She always voiced her opinion in a respectful and thoughtful manner. But today, she was so thrown and confused, she stood there as Scott berated her for going into the evidence room and logging out evidence for one of Rachel’s cases without asking her first. So laughable.
One, because she never touched any of Rachel’s cases.
Two, because someone came into her office last week and took one of her files and Scott brushed it off as a co-worker borrowing a file.
Now he was yelling at her for supposedly doing the same thing. How dare him.
Except, so stunned, she walked out without defending herself. Without telling him she never touched any evidence in Rachel’s case. It had to be Rachel creating this mess. Which meant, she forged her signature on the evidence log. It shouldn’t be too hard to solve that little problem. She could have Gus look at the surveillance tapes to see who signed her name. Then she could shove the evidence in Scott’s face and watch as Rachel was taken down a peg or two.
Well, if it turned out Rachel did it.
It had to be her. Who else would do something so cruel and vicious?
She didn’t even ask if the evidence logged out was opened and contaminated in any way. It would’ve been a good question to ask. Speaking one little word would’ve been good.
One Taste of Sin (A One Taste Novel Book 4) Page 7