by Penny Childs
Pushing the door which lead into the large barn open, Mel stood frozen for a moment. The first thing that hit her was the smell of blood. The second thing was the sight of it. It covered everything in a wide circle around the body which dangled two feet off the ground from a beam in the center of the barn.
“You okay, Mel?” Trevor asked.
She, at least, had been to scenes before which looked like this or worse. She knew Craig was in for a rude surprise and wondered about the junior agent. “Yeah. I’m just trying to figure out how to get to him without disturbing too much.” She supposed that was not possible and stepped into the barn, allowing Trevor in too.
“Holy shit,” Craig whispered as he entered. “Awe, man.” He had seen dead bodies before. He had never seen one that had been mangled and maimed though.
“It would appear that our guy went a little off script,” Trevor commented.
Mel saw what he was referring to and grunted agreement.
Craig looked between the two of them. Their relative calmness confused the hell out of him. How could they be so businesslike? “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The eyes. He wasn’t supposed to take the eyes,” Mel told him.
“Damnit,” Craig groaned, now seeing the empty sockets through the blood.
“I’ll come outside with you, Craig. We can get some of the deputies working on setting up a perimeter. The news will get wind of this soon,” Renee said, looking a little green herself.
Trevor and Mel turned to them. “That sounds fine,” Mel told them, understanding.
Trevor frowned but nodded his head at Renee.
“I’m sorry boss,” Craig said, averting his gaze away from the body.
“It’s fine, there’s nothing you can do in here anyway. We just want to have a look.”
After they walked out, Trevor said, “She’s never going to be able to do this job if she can’t handle a little blood.”
Mel raised her brows and looked around. “This does not qualify as a little blood in my book, Trevor.”
“Still…”
“Maybe she needs to be started on something a little less…intense.” She shrugged. “Or maybe this isn’t her thing. It certainly isn’t mine.” Moving toward the body, she said, “I don’t mind breaking up parties and running down shoplifters.” She stopped a few feet from David Well’s hanging corpse and looked up at it, shaking her head. “It sure beats the hell out of this.”
“Yeah, well, somebody’s got to do it,” Trevor said, standing next to her.
“And that somebody had to be you.” She moved away from the body and began looking around the immediate area. “Bill told me after I left you buried yourself in the work.”
“Maybe.”
“What happened drove you toward these monsters. It drove me away from them,” she commented, squatting down to look at a footprint in the blood. It was small and she frowned at it. The boy that had called had said he didn’t even get more than two steps out of the office and into the barn.
“Something?”
Something seemed familiar about that footprint. She shrugged. It wasn’t coming to her though. “Maybe. The team will find it.”
“If the killer left that, he meant to this time. This guy doesn’t screw up like that.”
“Unless the kid that showed up interrupted the cleanup,” Mel suggested.
“Could be,” Trevor admitted. “If that’s the case we may have gotten lucky.” He moved away and started looking at the area.
“Bill also told me that you go completely by the book now. You never deviate from it.”
“Bill is just full of information, isn’t he?” Trevor asked dryly.
“You know, what happened to me didn’t happen because we broke a rule.”
“If we hadn’t broken the rules and become lovers, you wouldn’t have been leaving my room that morning,” he observed.
“Yeah, maybe. But you said yourself that fate has a way of getting what it wants. Maybe it would have happened anyway.”
“Maybe.”
“You know, breaking the rules is necessary sometimes.”
“Hmmm, coming from you, that doesn’t shock me in the least.” He turned to face her from across the blood soaked barn. “Becoming lovers was only one rule broken that day. You broke a rule or two. You went off on your own.”
“Yes. And look what happened.” She shrugged. “Maybe you’re right.” She moved to stand in front of the body again, biting her bottom lip. Maybe he wouldn’t have died if she had listened to Trevor and tried harder. If she had just pushed herself more.
“You weren’t ready to do it yet. It’s not your fault,” he told her, knowing what she was thinking.
Hugging her light jacket around herself, she nodded. “Did Bill ever get back to you with what was missing from this guy’s house?”
“Not yet. His sister is going through the place but didn’t live with him. I have a feeling it’s going to be something somewhat obvious. This guy wants to play a game. He’s going to try and make it fair by giving up clues here and there.”
“The game,” Mel said with disgust.
Trevor was standing next to her again, looking at the body. “It does concern me that he took the eyes. He’s not sticking to the script, which could potentially make him even more dangerous.”
Glancing over at him, Mel said, “More dangerous than this?”
Mel sat on the table top next to Trevor this time, staring at the wall. “Okay, we have more disturbing news,” she said.
Craig and Renee sat at the table, off to the side. Renee entering information on the computer.
“It gets more disturbing than the obvious?” Craig asked.
“Not only did he deviate by removing the victim’s eyes, he also took the teeth.”
“And you two are surprised?” Craig asked. “This dude is a whack job.”
“A whack job that is either getting wackier or trying to send us a message,” Trevor said. “He’s been precise so far. Almost perfect.” He rubbed his chin, thinking.
“I’m voting for wackier, if it counts,” Craig said.
“If the added violence is any indication of the killer’s frame of mind right now, I’m guessing it won’t be long before we have another victim.”
“I just got an e-mail from Bill, Trevor,” Renee said, looking up at him, her expression grave. “He says that David Wells’ sister finally figured out what was missing.”
“And?” Trevor asked.
“I guess Wells was an amateur chef. He’s missing a mini blow torch from his kitchen. His sister says he used it to melt sugar and brown stuff, you know, like on TV.”
Craig groaned.
“I know you don’t have to tell him--”
“He’s already got people on cross referencing survivors and blow torches,” Renee told him. “The question is; how is this guy doing it? How can he know that his victim will have something in their residence that will tie to the next killing?”
“My guess is he’s been planning this out for a very long time.” He looked at Mel. “This is someone that has a personal axe to grind with either you or me.”
“Julius Becker is dead,” she pointed out. “You’re the hunter. Right off hand, I’d lean toward this being about you. Your game. Maybe he wants to see how good you really are.”
“If that’s true then he knew to use you to get me here.”
She pondered this. “A lot of this information is out there, on the internet and in old newspaper clippings. It would just take a lot of face time with a computer to get it. If this guy has been planning this for years then he’s had the time.”
“I’m going to start digging into the cases you’ve had in the past, Trevor, and see if I can come up with something,” Renee told him.
“You’ve got your work cut out for you then. There have been a lot of them.” He got off the table and stretched. “We’re stalled for now, until we start getting the reports back on David Wells.” He looked at h
is watch. It was after five. “We might as well call it a day and come back fresh tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll have a lot of information to sift through.”
“I’m still going to start on this stuff tonight,” Renee said. “Don’t be surprised when I call you if I have any questions.”
They stopped and bought plates and glasses on the way back to her house. She was putting them away and he was leaning back on the counter watching, admiring the view as she stretched up to put them in the cupboard. The very sight of her still did things to him. Insane things. Crazy things. God but she made him ache, body and soul.
“What are we going to eat tonight?” he asked her, feeling hungry.
“There is a package of pork chops in the fridge. I’ll make some green beans and a salad with it. We won’t die.” Closing the cupboard door she turned around. “Pull ‘em out and I’ll get them ready for you to throw on the grill.”
“For me to throw on the grill?”
“You can grill, right?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’ve been known to.”
“Good. You need to start pulling your weight around here.”
He stared at her for a moment, wondering just how serious she was. Then he saw the smile she was trying like hell to hide.
They ate their meal in an good-natured silence and he helped her clean up. When they were done, she closed the dishwasher. It was too early for bed.
“Mel, have you decided what you’re going to do?”
She knew what he was referring to. “I’ll try, Trevor. But not yet.” She looked him in the eyes. “I’m going to have to trust you completely, and I’m not there yet.” If worst came to worst, he would be her only link to get back out of the killer’s head. That little bit of doubt she had left was preventing her from making the initial contact, she could feel it there, like a physical barrier.
He didn’t know what he could do to make her trust him, except give her time and space.
“You always told me you would teach me how to play poker, but you never did,” she told him, digging through a drawer and coming up with a deck of cards.
“You never learned?” he asked, surprised.
“Nope.”
He shook his head at her. “I’m ashamed of you. Any respectable cop knows how to play poker with the boys.” He took the deck of cards from her and sat down at the table as she left the room to turn on the stereo. “Don’t your guys have a poker night or something?” he called after her.
“I think they do sometimes, but most of them bowl.” She came back in with a smile on her face. “And they just love the fact that they can whoop my ass at it, too.”
An hour later she threw her cards down. “Are you sure you’re not cheating?” she asked.
“I am not cheating.” He looked at her over the top of his cards. “I’m not even sure that’s possible.” They had given up on poker and were playing a serious game of Go-Fish.
“Well, when I asked you if you had any eights, I’m pretty sure you were holding back on me.”
“I don’t hold back, darling,” he said, his eyes smoky.
Getting his double meaning and knowing how true it was, she swallowed hard. Her heart fluttered and her stomach flipped-flopped. No, he had never held back. “Cards, Giles, cards,” she said, tapping the ones she had thrown down with a fingernail.
“This is seriously the only card game you know how to play?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“You know it sucks, right?”
She tilted her head, giving him a look of mock horror. “Many a kid loves this game.”
“Yeah.” Tuning his head, he listened to something, then got up from the table and went into the living room, turning up the stereo. When he came back, he stepped beside her and held a hand out to her.
“What are you doing?”
“C’mon, dance with me,” he said.
“Trevor.” Looking at his hand, then staring up into his eyes she blinked at him. She knew what he wanted, but fear kept her rooted to her seat.
“C’mon. You like this song. Dance with me.” His blue eyes sparkled dangerously.
She looked at his stubble. He had always had a rough five o’clock shadow. “Cards, Giles,” she said again, with what she was sure was nearly the last of her resolve.
Still holding his hand out, he said, “C’mon. One little dance. What can it hurt?”
It could hurt a lot and she knew it. Still, she found her hand going to his and found herself being drawn out of her chair and into his arms. She took in a deep breath of him and reminded herself not to get too close. But how could she not? His arms, his chest, his entire being were so familiar to her. He felt like a puzzle piece which had been misplaced and finally returned to the puzzle, making it whole again. The knowledge that he could be ripped away again terrified her.
“See, that’s not so bad, is it?” He rested his chin atop her head and closed his eyes. He wanted much more than this, but was now just awed by the fact that she was in his arms. He felt her trembling though, and pushed her back so he could look at her. “What’s wrong?” She shook her head and he saw tears shining in her eyes. “Mel, what are you afraid of?”
She looked up into his eyes. She wanted to run away from him and run to him at the same time. “I’m afraid of touching you,” she whispered, reaching up and touching his jaw with her fingertips anyway.
“Why?” he asked, utterly perplexed.
“Because, now I want more.”
“I’m right here. You can have whatever you want, love.”
When he used that term of endearment, she closed her eyes and moved back to him, resting her head on his chest, listening to that familiar heartbeat. The same one that had lulled her to sleep so many times in the past. She wanted to believe him.
“Mel, I’m not the same man I was seven years ago,” he whispered to her.
Tilting her head back, she looked up at him again. She said nothing, only looked into his eyes, seeking answers to questions she was afraid to ask aloud.
When he could take it no longer, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, groaning low in his throat. The kiss started gently but when he felt her mouth yield and her fingernails dig into his shoulders he deepened it, ending it by nipping her lower lip almost playfully.
Mel knew what direction they were headed and was scared to death but also did not want to stop it. Still, she said a little breathlessly, “This is not a good idea, Trevor.”
“I think it’s an excellent idea,” he retorted, claiming her lips again. To feel her against him was almost unbearable. There was a heat between them he had never felt with anyone else.
After catching her breath again, she said, “But you’re breaking the rules, Agent Giles. Fraternizing with the local police.”
The playfulness in her voice had his heart beating faster. “I’m off the clock, sheriff,” he told her, pulling the band that held her hair back off and pushing his hands into her thick dark hair and kissing her yet again.
She thought for sure his kisses alone would make her come undone as he trailed them down her face and to the hollow of her neck. “Trevor,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Please don’t tell me to stop, Mel,” he begged. His own voice raw.
“Never,” she said. It was too late for stopping, especially when he rubbed his jaw on her neck, prickling her with his scruff. “Damnit, Trevor,” she swore. He knew she had a weakness for that particular sensation and she tilted her head back to expose more of her neck to him.
With a growl, he pushed her backward until she bumped up against the wall, his mouth still at her neck, his fingers now working at the edge of her sweater, pulling it up, then over her head. Pressing her to the wall, he ran kisses down her neck to her collar bone, then to the soft swell of a breast. Not wanting the barrier between them, he reached behind her with one hand and released her breasts from the bra she wore.
“You’ve had practice,” she admonished. “I’m jealous.”
“Mmmmm�
�.don’t be, love.” He claimed her mouth again, before lowering his head and brushing his jaw against her breast. He heard her cry out as his roughness met the softness of her.
Unable to stand it any longer, wanting to feel his skin, she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and yanked it up and over his head, then threw it to the floor to join her discarded sweater. His was a familiar feel, but he was also new, he had changed, become broader, his muscles harder.
Brushing her breast with his jaw again, he said, “I know one other place you like me to do that.”
Feeling herself melt as he worked at the button of her jeans, she whispered into his ear, “Yes.”
She lay partially atop him, tangled in the blankets in front of the fire, both of them panting for breath.
“You’ve got several new moves, Trevor. Now I really am jealous.” She ran her fingernails though the hair on his chest.
“Hmmm….” He groaned drowsily. “You’re just being silly now.”
“Bitches. All of them,” she said with a tiny smile, only half joking about her jealousy.
Rolling her off of him and onto her back, he propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at her, his eyes languid. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this.” He touched her face with just the tips of his fingers.
“So have I,” she admitted.
“When you weren’t hating me?”
“I told you; I never hated you. I never could.”
“And do you trust me now?”
She thought about this for a long time. “With my life, yes.”
“But not your heart?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her again.
She didn’t answer him other than to stare up into his eyes. She was still so afraid he would hurt her again. After all, he had a home and a job in Virginia to go back to.
Touching her face, he thought about letting himself take just a little peek, to see what still had her frightened, but knew if she caught him, he would lose any ground he may have gained. “Are you going to let me see what your bedroom looks like?” he asked instead.
“Well, I’m definitely not going to put myself through the torture of sleeping alone again, that’s for sure. Every night I had to lay there and think of you in the next room. It was horrible.” Reaching up, she scratched at his rough jaw with her fingernails.