Crossing the Line (Daniels Brothers #3)

by Sherri Hayes

  “I am.” He looked up and gave her the best smile he could muster. “So catch me up. What’s the latest on the newest victim?”

  Janey spent the next hour bringing Paul up to speed on the case. He’d only been gone for four days, but there had been a lot of new developments within that time. This newest victim was twenty-eight-year-old Casey McMurphy. She was a flight attendant, newly married, and had no children.

  The similarities between this victim and the first two were few. Apart from each of the women being around the same age, and all being home alone at the time of the murders, nothing else matched up. They’d been searching for a connection between the first two victims, but had come up short thus far. Paul was hoping they would be able to find something to tie the three women together. Once they knew how the killer was selecting the victims, they would have a better chance at catching him or her.

  In his absence, Janey and one of the other detectives had interviewed Mr. McMurphy, but Paul wanted to see the crime scene for himself. Throughout the drive, Janey kept glancing over at him.

  “What’s on your mind, Davis?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question, Daniels.”

  He pulled into the McMurphys’ drive and turned off the engine. Paul opened his door and exited the vehicle without a word to his partner.

  Janey sighed and unfastened her seat belt. “Fine. I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.”

  They strolled up to the house in silence, and Paul took the time to observe his surroundings. It was a nice neighborhood. He heard dogs barking from the house next door and there was a sprinkler going a few houses down. Nothing stood out to him as being out of the ordinary.

  Paul rang the doorbell, and after several minutes, a young woman answered. She looked to be around Megan’s age, but she was shorter. The woman was even wearing a short skirt, showing off her trim, athletic legs.

  He quickly put a stop to the direction his mind was heading. He was working, and he needed to concentrate. Whatever was going on, or not going on, with Megan and himself wasn’t what he needed to be focusing on at the moment.

  “Hello?”

  They flashed their badges. “Is Mr. McMurphy home?”

  The woman froze for a moment, and then seemed to come out of it, stepping back to allow them inside. “H-he’s in the kitchen. Let me . . . let me go get him.”

  Without another word, she scurried out of sight. Paul gave a questioning look to his partner, and she shrugged, letting him know that she didn’t know who the woman was either.

  While they waited, Paul looked around. The house was simple, but nice. In fact, what stood out to him the most was the lack of clutter or anything else that made the house looked lived in. Granted the McMurphys didn’t have any children, but there should still be evidence of the two people living there. If there was, he couldn’t see it from where he stood.

  Evan McMurphy walked into the room looking as if he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had dark circles beneath them. “Detectives?”

  Janey took the lead. “We’re sorry to bother you again so soon, Mr. McMurphy, but I wanted to introduce you to my partner, Detective Daniels. He was out of town this weekend, but he and I will be handling your wife’s case.”

  Paul extended his hand. “Hello, Mr. McMurphy.”

  Evan McMurphy shook Paul’s hand and nodded.

  “Detective Daniels wanted to get a look at the crime scene for himself. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  Janey led Paul down a long hallway to the back of the house. The sunroom remained blocked with crime scene tape. Although the forensic unit had already been through the room from top to bottom, it hadn’t been cleaned yet.

  As he walked around the room, Paul noted the small similarities between this murder and the others. Opening up the file, he compared the position of the victim’s body with the others. The killer not only positioned each of the bodies in a similar way, but where the women were placed in the room was the same. It was almost as if the killer had used a tape measure to find the exact center, and place the body in that spot. “Whoever this person is, they are big on details.”

  His partner nodded. “I agree. It does look like this one may have struggled a bit more than the others, though.” She pointed to a vase lying on the floor—its contents spilled out on the beige carpet. With the other two victims, nothing had been out of place. There had been no sign of a struggle at all. It was as if whoever it was walked in, did their business, and left.

  Paul worked his way over to the large French doors along the back wall. There was no sign of forced entry. He opened the door, checking for any evidence that the lock had been picked. There were some scratches, but they could have come from general wear.

  He shut the door, and found Janey looking over the contents on the desk. “Hopefully she fought her attacker enough for us to get some DNA.”

  After speaking to Mr. McMurphy again, he officially introduced them to his friend, Sarah Cartwright, although Paul got the impression there might be more there than just friendship. At least, on her part. Then again, he might be seeing things that weren’t really there. The whole thing with Megan was throwing him off, and he didn’t like it.

  He and Janey canvassed the neighborhood, talking to anyone who was home, hoping someone had seen a stranger lurking or a car hanging around prior to the murder. As with the others, no one appeared to have seen or heard anything unusual that night or anytime leading up to it.

  Returning to the car, Paul pulled out of the drive and turned toward the station. “What do we know about Mr. McMurphy?”

  Janey shrugged. “Early thirties. Works as a CPA downtown, and at a local community college teaching accounting two nights a week. I didn’t get any bad vibes when I spoke to him the first time. Or this time, for that matter.”

  Paul nodded. “What about the woman?”

  She cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrow. “My first impression?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think she has a crush.”

  “So you don’t think there’s anything going on there?”

  Instead of answering him, she countered with her own question. “Do you?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  They spent the rest of the drive lost in their own thoughts. Paul was beginning to get frustrated. There were three dead women and little to no evidence to lead them to the killer. He knew that sooner or later whomever it was would slip up and leave something behind that would tie them to the crimes—they always did. Paul only hoped more women didn’t have to die before that happened.

  Megan spent her day playing with Chloe and getting some general housework done. When she’d first moved in, Paul was reluctant to let her do much of anything around the house. He was fiercely independent, and for whatever reason, he felt it wasn’t Megan’s responsibility to do anything beyond taking care of Chloe.

  Chloe was much like her father. She liked to sit in the corner and read her picture books or play on her LeapPad. It left Megan twiddling her thumbs with nothing to do. When she’d explained this to Paul one night, he admitted that it might be helpful if she could do some minor house cleaning in her downtime. He still did his own laundry, but she took care of her own and Chloe’s, along with vacuuming, dusting, and cleaning all but the master suite. That was Paul’s space, and she got the impression very early on that it was off-limits. It was even rare for Chloe to go in there.

  Even with the added chores, it didn’t always keep her busy during the hours Paul was at work. That’s why she’d decided to go back to school. Two days a week, she would log on to the school’s website, and download her assignments. Eventually, if she decided to pursue an arts degree, she’d have to take some classes on campus as well, but by then Chloe would be in school.

  There were a lot of things Megan was starting to regret about the last five years of her life. Growing up, her sister, R
ebecca, had constantly been on her case about school. When Rebecca left for college, she had called Megan every day to make sure she stayed on top of her classes and wasn’t slacking off.

  Back then, Megan hadn’t appreciated what her sister did. In fact, she’d resented her for it most of the time, and had only done what Rebecca asked because she hadn’t wanted to deal with the fallout. As soon as Megan graduated, though, she knew she had to get away. Unlike her sister, Megan had no interest in continuing her education, which is why as soon as she graduated, she took off with the first guy who offered.

  For five years, she bounced from guy to guy, hoping that one of them would love her, but they never did. Not for long, anyway. No matter how sweet they were in the beginning, they always showed their true colors eventually.

  When she caught her last boyfriend in his friend’s garage snorting cocaine, she’d had enough. After growing up with her parents, and her dad’s drug problem, she refused to be in a relationship with someone who did illegal drugs. Megan could party with the best of them, but even she had her limits.

  Moving in with Paul and Chloe had changed Megan’s life. It was a fresh start—one she desperately needed. She moved into the guest bedroom, stopped partying, and concentrated on herself for a while.

  Megan closed the window on her computer screen, and went to check on Chloe. She found her exactly where she’d left her over an hour before—sitting on her neon pink beanbag in the corner of her room, reading. “Chloe?”

  The little girl reluctantly looked up from her book.

  “Are you hungry? I can make you a snack.”

  She appeared to consider the question for a moment. “Can I have app-ules? And teese?”

  They walked . . . well, Megan walked and Chloe hopped, down the stairs to the kitchen.

  Before Megan handed the food over to Chloe, she worked with the little girl on her pronunciation. Apples were easy once Megan sounded it out for her slowly. Cheese was a little more difficult.

  “T-eese.”

  “No. Listen to the first part of the word closely. Ch. Ch. Can you do that?”

  “Ch.”

  Megan smiled. “Good. Now add it to the rest of the word. Ch-eese.”

  Chloe repeated the word exactly how Megan said it. “Ch-eese.”

  “Great job!” Megan handed the little girl the apples and cheese, and gave her a kiss on the top of her head, before taking a seat on the other side of the kitchen island.

  Chloe dug into the cheese and apples, holding one in each of her little hands. “Meg-an, why doesn’t my daddy have a girlfriend?”

  Megan choked on the drink of water she was swallowing. “Um. I don’t know.”

  “Allie says that her daddy has a girlfriend. And Debbie says if there is no mommy that daddies have to have a girlfriend to take care of them.”

  Not knowing how to respond, Megan said nothing for several minutes.

  “You take care of me and Daddy. Are you Daddy’s girlfriend?”

  Megan’s chest clenched. “No. I’m not.”

  Chloe frowned. “But . . . what if I want you to be?”

  Strolling over to Chloe, Megan brushed the hair back over the little girl’s shoulders, tucking it behind her ears. “It doesn’t work that way, honey.”

  “Why not?”

  Megan sighed and gave Chloe a small smile. No matter how much Megan wanted to be exactly that, Paul’s girlfriend, it wasn’t only up to her. “It just doesn’t.”

  Chloe opened her mouth, ready to ask another question, but luckily the phone rang, interrupting the inquisition. It was Marilyn Daniels, Chloe’s grandmother. After a brief conversation with Paul’s mother, Megan handed the phone over to Chloe. Within minutes, the two were involved in a conversation that revolved around summer vacation.

  Giving them a little privacy, Megan busied herself cleaning up the remains of Chloe’s snack. Chloe was set to spend a month this summer with her grandparents—two weeks with Paul’s parents, and two weeks with her mother’s parents. Paul had brought it up a couple of weeks ago, letting Megan know she’d be free to visit her sister or go on vacation herself during that time.

  Megan had thought about it. She had a little money saved up since Paul paid for almost all of her living expenses. Even if she didn’t have money, she knew Gage, her new brother-in-law, would pay for a plane ticket if she asked.

  Money wasn’t the problem. The problem was that she didn’t want to leave Paul. Sure, she’d love to spend some time with Rebecca, but her sister had Gage. Megan knew he’d take care of Rebecca and make sure she had everything she needed. He practically worshipped the ground Rebecca walked on. Plus, the two of them were like a couple of animals. She wasn’t sure she could take being in the same house with them for a month while they were all over each other. Especially when she was currently sex deprived herself.

  Chloe hung up the phone and raced over to stand beside Megan. “Can I go play?”

  “Sure.” Without wasting another second, Chloe took off up the stairs, leaving Megan alone.

  Tossing the rag she’d been using into the sink, she followed Chloe. Maybe come the end of May, Megan wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not she should leave and give Paul his space or not. Maybe, just maybe, a certain five-year-old would get her wish and her daddy would get a girlfriend.

  Paul pulled into his driveway a little before six. He could have worked longer. He could have worked all night, since they were no closer to solving the case than they had been this morning, but he didn’t want Megan to think he was running away. Again. That, and he’d only missed tucking Chloe into bed a handful of times over the last four-and-a-half years. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice precious time with his daughter because he didn’t know how to deal with his sudden attraction to her nanny.

  Megan was in the kitchen prepping dinner when he ambled through the door. He cleared his throat to get her attention. “Hey.”

  She looked up, smiling, the same as she always did when he came home from work. “Hey.”

  He relaxed a little when she went back to what she was doing and made no mention of what had happened that morning. Throughout the day, images of Megan had popped up in his mind. These weren’t things he remembered happening, but they felt real—more real than a dream—and Paul was almost positive they were from the night of Chris and Elizabeth’s wedding. That, or her declaration that morning had triggered some very vivid imagery.

  Chloe ran in from the other room and hugged his legs. “Daddy!”

  Paul swung her up in his arms and kissed her cheek. “Hi, sweetpea. How was your day?”

  His daughter proceeded to tell him all about her day, including the phone conversation she’d had with his mother, while she helped him tear the lettuce apart for a salad. To be honest, Paul had nearly forgotten about Chloe’s month-long vacation with her grandparents. Normally, he counted down the days until he had to give her up for a month to share her with the four other people who loved her almost as much as he did. Even though it was still two months away, he’d barely thought about it.

  He wasn’t a fool. Paul knew the reason for that had to be Megan. She’d changed things for both of them. Their house was happier with her in it. Chloe liked having her here, and so did he.

  That didn’t mean he wanted a relationship with her.

  Dinner was filled with random conversation about nothing in particular, and as the evening wore on, Paul relaxed even more. Chloe asked several questions about Janey, which he found somewhat odd, but his daughter was very curious. Sometimes it took people a while to pick up on that because she often kept to herself, but Chloe noticed things most adults would dismiss or ignore. He wondered if she’d follow in his footsteps and become a detective, or if she’d opt for something safer.

  After putting Chloe to bed, Paul lingered for several minutes before trudging back down the stairs to the living room where he knew Megan would be waiting. He refused to run away again. She’d surprised him the first time, throwing him off-kilter.
This time he was prepared.

  At least, he hoped he was.

  Megan was curled up on the couch, wearing another pajama set that he didn’t recognize, with her feet tucked up underneath her. She was watching something on television. It was casual and completely normal for Megan at this time of night, but for some reason his gaze zeroed in on the skin peeking out below her very short shorts. He could almost feel how soft and silky it would be beneath his hands.

  Paul quickly averted his eyes, but not before realizing that he’d been caught staring. Megan smirked at him, as he took a seat across the room, trying discreetly to adjust himself. She knew what she was doing to him. Paul only wished that he understood it.

  “Did you want to play some poker?”

  He took a few moments to consider her question and if there could be a hidden meaning behind it before answering. They’d played cards—mainly poker—many times before. It was her favorite game, and while he’d never played competitively, he and some of the guys at the station used to get together on occasion and play a few hands. “All right.”

  Megan smiled, and it twisted something deep in his stomach.

  She jumped up from the couch, and strolled across the room to get the cards. His gaze went directly to her ass as it swayed back and forth with each step she took. He had to close his eyes to keep himself from looking. Otherwise, the problem in his pants would become much more pronounced, and there would be no way he could hide it from her.

  Less than a minute later, he heard her not far from him, shuffling the cards, and figured it was safe to open his eyes. Boy, was he wrong. Megan sat not two feet from him near the corner of the coffee table. She was up on her knees, her arms pressed firmly against her sides as she manipulated the cards. The position pushed her breasts up, giving him plenty to look at from his angle above her.

  Coughing, Paul swiftly lowered himself to the floor, hoping that the new angle would help. It did in some ways, but didn’t in others. Megan wasn’t wearing a bra, and he could see the tips of her nipples pushing against her pajama top.