He opened his eyes, which startled her momentarily.
"Renee." His voice was heavy with sleep, as he sighed and said, "You can tell, I'm not used to drinking wine." His hand came around her waist and pulled her to his chest.
The intimacy made her shiver. His mind was totally open and transparent. His warm body lay next to hers, and she could feel his arousal.
"Lex," she began, as she started to push him away with both hands, "maybe this isn't such a good idea."
He laughed softly, and just pulled her closer. "No you don't. You've been pulling away for a year now. This is where it stops." He kissed her deeply, and long, and her hands stopped their struggle.
"Renee..." he said again, drawing back and looking at her, "your mind is so beautiful and innocent, so pure," his hand came up and held her cheek, as he kissed her again.
Then he whispered, as his hands roved slowly over her body, across her breasts and down her stomach, then the curve of her back, "So very beautiful, just for me." His lips nuzzled her neck. "What do you like Renee?"
She gasped as his hand found her downy softness and explored with two fingers, then brought the same hand up to caress her breast.
"What do you like," he insisted, "Do you like this?" His hand came back down and rubbed her softness again, round and round with his fingers, while she gasped at the sensation.
"Mmmm, you're ready, aren't you? Renee talk to me, tell me, maybe this?" His fingers caressed her nipple.
"Lex," she gasped, before she moved quickly off the bed and out of his arms, "I can't..."
He laughed softly again and swiftly sprung up to block her exit from the bedroom. He was between her and the door now. His arms came around her back, as he said, "You can, and you will. See, I'm different than your other boyfriends. I know what you're thinking. You liked it all. Tell me I'm wrong."
She looked up at him, but for once, words failed her. Emotion inside her was overwhelming because of the closeness, it was almost unbearable, and seconds later tears ran down her face. "I need you," she whispered.
He grabbed her, kissed her deeply, backed her to the wall and entered her slowly, carefully. But as he did, she gasped in pain.
"How many men have you been with?" he asked softly, his lips against her ear. He paused and smoothed his lips along her neck.
She took a deep breath. "Just one."
"You're a virgin then for all intents." It was more a whispered statement than a question from Lex. "I don't know why I didn't sense that. You must have really blocked me." He didn't move, but his lips met hers briefly, then he whispered, "I don't care if it takes all night. I don't want to hurt you."
But, as he nuzzled her neck, she gasped again, this time from pleasure. She felt everything acutely as she clung to him; the hard wall against her back, his strong arms, his soft lips wandering here and there. She moved against him cautiously, slowly.
He brought one of her legs up with his hand under her knee. Their eyes met and, as he thrust gently, then more insistently, electricity between them grew like a wave bursting in a giant crest.
He whispered, "Mmmm, You have tight little pussy, you know that? Did you know that?"
Her eyes flew open. "What--"
"You heard me. And, it is. Stop blocking me Renee."
"Bastard."
"Bitch."
His eyes glittered in the darkness. "I can match you word for word. The dirtier, the better. I love it," he drawled, "I love you."
"You're big for me," she gasped as he began thrusting again, "that's what it is..."
She could feel his strong arms then as he held her tightly.
He continued whispering, "You are so good. I won't hurt you, Renee. I won't ever hurt you. Come with me now my beautiful woman, don't be afraid." His thrusts increased and his hand moved to her most sensitive spot.
She arched her back away from the wall at the heightened feeling, and his mouth roved her chest and breasts, kissing and murmuring, while his hand worked magic.
Her mind roamed through his; found trust there along with excitement and desire.
She peaked then with a passion she didn't know even existed. He did the same. His gentle hands came up and held her face, and as they gazed at each other, she thought she must be in love.
"Me too," he said with a smile.
*****
Pap waited anxiously for Davey to come home. He'd given up pacing after his heart attack. It used up too much energy and was a waste of time. His fingertips drummed on the dining room table instead.
"Damn uncomfortable chair," he complained aloud. Since he'd lost all the weight it seemed like he could never get comfortable anywhere.
Finally, he heard Davey's patrol car pull in the carport. He checked the time automatically, a habit he'd acquired through the years. Five after six in the morning.
Davey let out a sigh as he came in the back door and joined Pap at the table.
"Rough night." Pap said.
Davey nodded.
Pap noticed the stubble on his face. "You gettin' cleaned up then?"
Davey sat back in his chair. "Yeah, after a bit. Just came back to run a few things by you."
"I'll never tell," Pap said with a smile.
"They found prints, Pap. Spence's prints were in Maria's room and on the back of her housecoat."
Pap let out a breath. "What the hell." He sat thinking for a few minutes, before he said, "Spence may be a lot of things but a killer isn't one of them."
"Try telling the guys from Rushburg."
"Hmph. Let's get back to the profile, son. Was it the same cut?"
"Yeah. Not a doubt in my mind. Same person."
"Still alive, eh? We know the perp is still alive. So he would have been bloodied pretty much. Find any bloody clothes in the bushes or trash?"
"Nope. But if he cut her from behind, then took off, most of it would have been on her. Wasn't like the last time with two victims. She was face up. Covered with it."
"You got footprints then."
"A few going to the site. She was barefoot and he had boots on."
"Get a size?"
"Nine."
"Pretty average."
"Yeah."
"What size is Spence?"
"Rushburg dicks said he's a ten. At least one thing in his favor. Meg's his only alibi. Again."
"So, I had a thought on the profile." Pap took a long drag of oxygen. "What if he's a church-going man?" Pap was a notorious heathen, preferring the Sunday paper to church.
"Yeah. Maybe. So?" Davey stared at him.
"Well, what if he made a confession to our good Father Damien? That would narrow it down by religion."
"That would be a privileged communication, Pap. He wouldn't tell us."
Pap smiled at that. "Son, it's not what he tells you but what he doesn't tell you. I've seen that man. He couldn't tell a lie if his life depended on it."
"Yeah," Davey laughed, "he's pretty transparent. I'll stop and have a chat with him today."
They sat silent for a few minutes.
"Okay," Pap said finally, "bring them on."
Davey reached for the folder and brought out color photos he'd just processed of the crime scene.
"God almighty," Pap breathed.
"He's a nut job, Pap. Certifiable. Why her? Of all people to pick. Think it was random?"
"Oh, no son. Not at all. She knew something. She had something on him."
"But how is she linked to the Moorehouses?"
Pap looked blankly out the window now. "Who is here now that was here back then?"
Davey thought for a minute. "Well, there's Spence of course. Mark came back here, but he was overseas when the parents were killed. Karl's been back for about a week. Big Jake, Lila, Meg and about half the town were here then. They've got Harv Brewster out there at the Cowells now, and he was a teenager back then. But like I said, Pap. Half the town was alive back then."
He continued, "Wonder what Maria could have known, Pap?"
; "Ask around out at the Cowells. Meantime, let me think on it. I'm still pondering on Oscar and how he was in the kitchen that murder night instead of in the living room."
Davey nodded and gathered up the grizzly photos.
"You gettin' along okay with the Rushburg dicks?" Pap asked.
Smiling, Davey said, "Yeah. A lot better than Spence or Meg."
"Good. Use it to your advantage. Plant ideas. Be a pain in their ass. Get all the info you can get off them before they clam up."
*****
Smith sat in the squad room, rolling up balls of paper and slam-dunking them into a wastebasket on the side of his desk.
Ellison was on the phone, trying to reach the ADA, but it was too early. "She doesn't get in until nine," he said disgustedly to no one in particular.
"Must be nice," Smith added, throwing another paper.
"Will you knock it off?"
"What?"
"How do you look so neat and polished when we were just at a bloody murder and a bale of hay dropped on your head? And did I mention I stepped in horse dung while we were out there?"
Smith sniffed, and took a sip of his double-latte. "I take great pride in my appearance."
"Yeah, well excuse me if I don't kiss your ass. And, speaking of your pursed up lips, here comes Martinez."
The supervisor came and stood next to Smith, who immediately stopped throwing paper wads. "What's the word on Lacene?" Martinez asked.
Ellison sat back and held a pen between his fingers. "We got a size nine boot. The Moorehouse kid is a ten. But, we got his fingerprints in the maid's room along with some on the back of her housecoat."
"What about the cut on the neck? You're sure it's similar to the Moorehouse murders?"
"Yeah, almost identical. Checked the pictures. Same cause of death, bleeding out."
"No murder weapon again?"
"Nothing," Smith replied, "we're getting a search warrant for the Cowell house. Thought we'd surprise them later today."
"Still plenty of time for the perp to dispose of it. Blood trails?"
Ellison shook his head. "Boot tracks led off to the side then disappeared in the hardpan. Didn't seem like they had blood on them."
Ellison's phone rang. "Yeah?" Then realizing his supervisor was standing by his desk, he said quickly, "Detective Ellison, how can I help you?" He listened for a moment. "Hey, sheriff. No, we don't know what kind of weapon yet, but we'll let you know. Probably a knife." Pause. "No, hadn't planned on it yet. He's safe for now. Wouldn't mind arresting that girlfriend of his though. She's dangerous." Pause.
Martinez raised his eyebrows as Ellison said, "What? The angle of the prints on the maid? Explain that to me." Pause. "Oh, okay. I'll ask the techs. That's a good point. Later. I'll call you."
"What's that all about?" Martinez asked.
Ellison sat back, pen in hand again. "He wants to know the angle of the prints on the maid. Said if they're pointed up, the kid was pushing her, as in on the way to kill her. But, pointed across or down, he may have hugged her or some other display of affection."
Martinez nodded. "Keep me posted." He walked back into his office.
Smith said, "The sheriff's got more brains than I first pegged him for." He shot another paper wad.
Ellison flipped him off. "Yeah? Peg this, basket-brain."
*****
Father Damien had just bid Lila goodbye and he was walking towards his office when he heard a voice in the nave. Walking back, he saw Sheriff Miller standing in the church with his hat in his hands. "Father?" he said.
"Yes, my son. What can I do for you?"
The young sheriff reached in his back pocket and pulled out a pad and a pen. "My name is Sheriff Davey Miller," he began.
"Yes, I know your name. Not a parishioner of mine, but I've seen and heard of you."
He laughed. "Everything good, I hope. We don't have much religion around our house, but we still follow the teachings of Christ. He was a good man."
"Yes."
Sheriff Davey was silent for a few seconds. "Listen Father, we, that is Pap and me, were thinking that maybe the Moorehouse killer might have confessed to you. If he was Catholic that is."
Davey watched the expressions flit across Father Damien's face. First surprise, then thinking hard, before he made a guarded response. "You know I cannot reveal anything said in the confessional."
Sighing, Davey replied, "Three people are dead, Father. I would think you'd want the killer brought to justice."
"Evil men do not understand justice. Proverb 28."
"Isn't justice the foundation of the Throne? Don't ask me which Psalm. It always stuck in my mind, Father. That at the heart of religion, there is always justice in one form or another."
"Then, I ask you, wouldn't the killer, this person, be judged in Purgatory?"
"Father," Davey said patiently, "we don't want to wait for that. We need justice now."
Smiling tightly, Father Damien replied, "I wish I could help."
No you don't, Davey thought. He searched his mind. "You know, when I was little, my mother would take me to church. I remember being scared for some reason. I couldn't see over the pews and the prayer benches would thump pretty loud."
Father smiled then stared absently at the back of the church. Davey thought he looked tired, and he wondered why.
"Then," Davey said, "I started asking her questions and we'd look at The Bible together. She answered my questions and then some."
He observed the Father closely.
"I didn't get a look at him, so I can't be much help to you." Father Damien said finally.
Bingo, thought Davey. The killer was Catholic. "Did he confess to the murders?"
Father sighed. "He just said 'murder.' That's all I can tell you." He turned and walked back towards the rectory.
*****
Hair still wet from the shower, Spence sat in the kitchen and watched Lila walk in. Her hair was mussed, her make-up gone, and her shorts and top were rumpled.
"You okay, Lila?" he asked.
"The vanilla smell," she said dully as she dropped her purse on a chair and stood by the coffeepot, "it reminds me of Maria. She always loved those flavored coffees."
"Where've you been?" Big Jake said from the doorway.
"Church," she said as she poured a cup of coffee and sat by Spence.
"Should have known," Jake snapped.
"Fuck you and the horse you rode in on," she said to him.
Spence eyed her sharply. Swear words from Lila were a rarity, and Spence couldn't tell if this was good or bad.
"And what were you doing at church, pray tell?" Jake said loudly, "Or was it pray Father?"
"You are sick, Jake Cowell. Just sick. Leave me alone."
"Come on, Jake," Spence said as he got up and stood between them, "Let's go out on the porch. Here," he quickly poured a cup of coffee, "this is for you."
Jake sniffed, but took the cup of brew and followed Spence to the porch. "Going to be a scorcher today," he said as he sat down, "you get any sleep, boy?" Jake asked, peering at him.
"Not really. Meg's lying down and Willie's resting upstairs too."
"You don't look good," Jake said, eying him.
"Thanks Jake. I guess the threat of jail time makes me wide awake."
Jake looked out at the yard, which was strewn with paper and debris, crime tape and used nylon gloves. "What a stinkin' mess. They could have cleaned up."
Spence smiled. "They're hot on the trail of the killer, Jake."
"Give me a break," Jake sighed, "they couldn't find their ass if it came up and bit them in the face."
Spence laughed at the imagery.
"Wonder if they'll ever catch him? Maybe he'll just bump us all off, one by one."
"Yeah. Thought of that. Wouldn't hurt to be extra careful. Lock doors and keep an eye on the women. Living in a small town, you get complacent. That's when he strikes."
"Son," Jake said slowly, "was the door locked when you went out and foun
d Maria?"
Spence tried to remember, but his brain was not functioning right. "I really don't remember, Jake. I can ask Meg."
"It's okay. Don't want to make waves. Already got Lila upset with me. Don't need two angry women in the house."
*****
Susie wondered what she'd say to them both. She heard them talking on the back porch, and edged her way around.
"Hi, mister Cowell," she said to the older one. She assumed that was his last name, same as Willie's. She wasn't sure about the other man, but he sure was good looking. Sexy, as he lounged with his bare feet up on the rail.
"Hello there missy," the older one responded, "do I know you?"
She walked up the porch steps slowly. "I'm Willie's girlfriend, Susie, mister Cowell. Nice to meet you." She shook his hand because she'd heard older people liked that.
"I'm Spence," the cute one said. She shook his hand too and blushed. She backed up and almost fell off the porch.
"Sorry to get here so early," she said, "but I heard what happened and I wanted to make sure Willie is okay."
"Oh, he's just fine, missy," mister Cowell said, while his eyes twinkled and he looked at Spence. "Think Meg would mind if she went upstairs?"
"Nah," Spence said, "I think he's prepared."
"Thanks, mister Cowell." She let herself in the back door and ran upstairs. Willie's was the fourth room down the hall, from what she remembered.
She knocked on the door and went in his room. He lay sleeping and her look softened as she approached his bed. His eye was still bandaged but his face appeared better than yesterday. She hesitated then touched his arm.
His eye opened wide and he looked ready to panic.
"Shhh," she said as she sat next to him.
"Hey...Sus...Susie Q." Then he smiled that lopsided grin she loved so much. She'd been in love with Willie for two years and she'd finally worked up the courage to go after him. The dropped-book trick got his attention all right.
Giving him a quick kiss, she leaned over and put both her arms on either side of his head. "You okay, Willie? I can't believe all this stuff is happening to you right now. It's absolutely insane."
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