by CP Smith
“Janeane set up the account she never gave us the passwords,” Kasey explained.
“Did Janeane communicate with this man again?” he asked swiftly.
“Not that I know of, but we only plotted the book at Gypsy’s. She wouldn’t have had any reason to talk to him again. In fact, we haven’t talked about the book since last week Friday.”
Parker’s eyes shot to the two-way mirror for an instant before he leaned in and with a deadly calm, asked, “Let me get this straight, Janeane signed up for the account, communicated with this man and on the day you broke ties with him, Melissa was killed and now Janeane is dead. Tell me ladies,” Parker asked sharply holding each of our eyes before continuing, “on the night that Toni Roseneau was killed, did you happen to meet at Gypsy’s?”
Eighteen
“Did you find Janeane’s computer?” Dallas asked Reed as they exited the surveillance room once Parker finished his interrogation.
“Tech guys have it now,” Reed answered.
Parker exited the interrogation room with eyes on Dallas as he headed for his office. Both Reed and Dallas followed, none of the three men speaking until Parkers door was closed. Rounding the desk, Parker pulled off his jacket, and sank into the chair while moving the mouse to bring his computer to life.
“Tell me, Vaughn,” Parker asked without out taking his eyes off his computer screen, “did any of the Shallow Grave victims have accounts on Sub Seeking Dom?”
Dallas looked at Reed then back at Parker, immediately following his train of thought.
“If this sonofabitch is the Shallow Grave Killer then he’s changed his MO.”
“If he’s Shallow Grave he’s had access to all five women’s addresses since last Tuesday when they gave their statements, assuming he knew they gave them. However, it doesn’t seem likely since I’ve had my tech guys monitoring the server for remote access into the system. My guess is, whoever this killer is, and I’m leaning toward Shallow Grave, he’s been stalking them from the coffee shop.”
“Remote access?” Reed asked in confusion. “Are you saying that Shallow Grave has been accessing our system?”
Still typing, Parker didn’t look up from his screen and succinctly laid out the FBI’s discoveries associated with the Shallow Grave Killer. By the time he was done sharing what they knew about the killer, Reed was red-faced with rage.
“You’re tellin’ me this fucker has been piggybacking off our system to avoid detection?”
“Not piggybacking, remote accessing, in case he was detected, it would lead back to the department. Think of it as a ‘fuck you’ to the police. A catch me if you can message.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Reed growled.
Parker ignored Reed’s outburst as he picked up his phone and dialed Humphreys over in tech to relay to him they needed the Dark Prince’s SSD account hacked.
Dallas was searching his memory for what he knew about the Shallow Grave Killer, looking for anything that would shed light onto this new information. When Parker slammed his phone down Dallas looked at the agent and waited.
“It seems Ms. Dee’s computer has been wiped clean,” Parker stated calmly. “My guy says factory reset was initiated at nine seventeen p.m. on Thursday.”
“Tell me you can recover the files?” Reed bit out.
“Already recovered them, but it seems the Taryn Rivers POF and SSD accounts were cancelled and her history wiped clean before the reset.”
“If the time of death is before the reset, when we find this fucker and link him back to the Dark Prince account will that hold up in court?” Dallas asked.
“One way to find out,” Parker replied as he picked up his phone and called the DA’s office. As the phone rang on the other end, Parker covered the mouthpiece looking directly at Vaughn and told him, “You’re off this case. I’ve already given you more information than I should,” as he indicated with his head that Dallas should leave.
Reed slapped Dallas on the shoulder, a move to let him know he’d keep a close eye on the investigation. Dallas scowled at Parker, the frustration clear on his face, before turning and exiting the room.
***
There are five stages of grief. First comes denial: it’s a way to protect yourself from overwhelming emotions, to safeguard yourself so you don’t shutdown from the shock of loss. Then comes anger: it’s a way of redirecting your grief, also a safeguard for our fragile psyche to cope until we’ve come to better terms with the loss. Next comes bargaining: this is the “If only” stage, or bargaining stage if one is dealing with terminal illness. You bargain with God that you’ll do this or that if he will only spare your loved ones or yourself. Most of these stages are on repeat and you flux in and out of them for weeks and months. I moved to the “If only” stage once Parker left the room when it became obvious that he thought that all of this started with us communicating with Dark Prince. Though, I wasn’t alone in this, the girls also felt responsible since they’d insisted that they be involved with the book. For every “It’s all my fault,” I threw out they in turn threw back, “We forced you. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s ours.” I kept thinking back to our first meeting, and of how if I’d only kept my mouth shut Janeane would be alive. How if I hadn’t taken that stupid oath, the one that said if I broke my promise it would bring about the destruction of our sisterhood, Janeane would be here and the rest of my friends wouldn’t be in mortal danger. Deep-down I knew there was only one person to blame, the monster who’d taken all three women’s lives, but the fact remained—my book had brought about this mess and I needed to fix it.
Starting now.
Once Parker had left the room, I convinced the girls we should all leave town until Dark Prince was caught. I called Finn and he confirmed he would take Kasey and the boys to our family cabin in Durango. Angela and Kristina spoke with their husbands and both were set to leave town after Janeane’s funeral.
That just left me.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
I started this nightmare and I would be the one to draw the bastard out. With that in mind, I hugged the girl’s goodbye at the elevator as they left, and headed for my car that was in the parking garage. Dallas had driven my beetle to the station since his bike was here, so I had transportation to leave. I had one destination in mind, the only link we had to the killer—Gypsy’s.
***
“Answer your fucking phone.”
That was the third text I’d received from Dallas since my phone started ringing off the hook. I guess you could say I’d added a new stage in the grieving process; this one was labeled “revenge.”
With a new laptop in hand and a 9mm Smith & Wesson in my purse, I was at Gypsy’s creating a new account on Sub Seeking Dom. My intent was to draw Dark Prince out and stop this maniac, who had stolen one of my best friends, my sister of the heart, before he could take any more away from me.
I was calmer than I’d ever felt in my life. I was focused; I had one purpose only, seek and destroy this bastard. Unfortunately, what I also was was stupid. I’d parked my car right in front of Gypsy’s, not thinking about hiding the damn thing. And a powder-blue VW beetle is easy to spot if you’re a cop, on a bike, searching for your missing girlfriend. I’d no sooner typed in my new screen name than the lid of my laptop was slammed shut. I looked up, saw angry, but compassionate eyes directed at me, but I ignored them and raised the screen again.
Without a word, Dallas leaned over, unplugged my laptop, pulled it from my hands, and began wrapping the cord around it. When he was done, he took hold of my hand, pulled me from my seat, and started heading for the door.
“You can’t stop me,” I told his back as he led the way.
“I can stop you,” was his arrogant reply.
“I have to stop him.”
“We’ll get him.”
“He can’t hurt them.”
“I won’t let him.”
I tugged back, the calm I’d held onto was leaking out, only to be replaced by pa
nic as we walked down the sidewalk.
“I have to do this,” I shouted, trying to wrench my hand from his.
Dallas whipped around and tugged my arm until I fell into his chest. “You’re gonna get in your car and then I’m gonna follow you home. We’ve got detectives on the way with a court order to review the security tapes and to interview the owner. There is no way in hell he’s gonna show up tonight and there is no way in hell I would ever allow you to be a sitting duck,” Dallas seethed.
His tone of voice managed to reach through my panic until I could think clearly, then I felt myself slipping right back to stage one of grief.
“This isn’t real, there isn’t a monster out there trying to kill my friends,” I argued.
Dallas wrapped his arm around my shoulders and put his lips to my forehead. I grabbed two handfuls of his shirt and held on while he held me on the sidewalk next to my car. After I gained control, I pushed back and he let me go. Stepping off the curb, he opened my driver’s door, threw my laptop on the passenger seat, and helped me into my car.
“Are you okay to drive?” he asked before closing my door.
Nodding, I barely looked at him as he closed the door. I started my car, pulled out, and headed for home with Dallas close on my bumper. When we got to my house, he took my key, opened the door, and drew his weapon from his holster. The fact that I was in a situation that required a gun to be drawn in order to enter my own home should have made me laugh. Instinctively, I knew it would one day, but right now; the crushing despair I felt all but swallowed me whole.
***
Dallas made a sweep of the house checking doors, windows, closets, and under beds. He saw no sign of forced entry, so he headed for the foyer where he’d left Nicola. When he rounded the corner, his jaw tensed when he took in the sight of her. Her shoulders were shaking as she clutched her purse and laptop; her eyes were closed as silent tears fell down her face. Dallas was accustomed to seeing those broken and grieving after a loved one was taken too soon, but he wasn’t there to view the aftermath. The time shortly after he had broken the news, to watch helplessly as the families coped with the tragedy. The utter helplessness that came from losing someone they loved in such a barbaric way. Yet, he knew instinctively that if he let her withdraw, to slip into depression for the unfounded guilt she felt, that she’d be hard to reach. And he wasn’t about to let that happen. She was his to protect and that included protecting her from her own guilt.
Since he’d seen Janeane lying on her bed, he’d been in a cold sweat of fear that this bastard wouldn’t be stopped before Nicola was dead. For a man who spent his days in pursuit of justice, a man who wouldn’t hesitate to put his life on the line for the average citizen, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill for the woman falling apart in front of him. Right now, he needed to reassure himself that she was safe needed to give her something to feel beside gut wrenching pain, needed to touch her and feel the warmth of her skin because her heart was still beating. That she wasn’t cold and rigid because some monster had taken her from him.
When Dallas reached Nicola, he pulled her purse and laptop from her hands and dropped it on the entry table before bending at the waist and lifting her into his arms. She buried her head in his neck, her arms curling around it as he walked down the hall to her bedroom.
Without a word, Dallas placed her on the bed, reached behind him, and pulled his shirt from his body followed by his jeans and boots. Once he was naked, he reached out and grabbed Nicola at the nape of her neck, drawing her up until their mouths met. She opened for him without hesitation, attacking his mouth as if she hadn’t just had him that morning. With their hearts beating rapidly, Dallas ripped off her clothes and revisited the curves and planes of her body, memorizing the smell of her skin, the pulse points which told him she was alive, breathing—his.
When his mouth found her silken folds, her scent further ignited his blood, which called to him to claim her—to make her body burn with life, to remind him she was still living, still breathing. Her hands buried in his hair, anchoring him to her hot center as he teased her sensitive clit, causing it to swell until she was gasping for release. He took her close to release, then eased off until she was mad with passion, chanting, “Please, please, please” while she lifted her hips closer to his mouth. He wanted her incoherent when she finally burst free, wanted her thinking only of the pleasure he was giving her, wanted her sole focus on him and what he was doing to her body.
Dallas rolled, taking Nicola with him. With his hands on her ass, he raised her up until she was hovering just above his mouth. His tongue snaked out and flicked against the bundle of nerves, smiling when she jerked with a moan. He inserted two fingers inside her silken depths and curled his fingers until he found the spot that turned pleasure from an almost living breathing thing to an otherworldly experience. His cock hardened painfully as he watched her hands slide up her body until she reached her breasts and began tweaking her rose-colored nipples. Then she moved a hand back and he growled deep in his throat when the delicate hand reached back and wrapped around his throbbing shaft. When she bucked on his face and released another deep moan, he lifted her from his mouth until she was positioned over his cock and surged up as she slammed down. She climaxed immediately, tightening around his throbbing cock like a velvet clamp, but she held back, pain cloaking her desire, choking her, numbing her body to the healing a release could give her.
Rolling them both again, Dallas pumped into her core, his mouth on hers, his tongue matching the rhythm of his thrusts while her moans turned from staid to erotic as she fought to feel something other than hollow. Raising her leg so he could sink further into her, Dallas grunted low each time he felt the head of his cock touch her womb. With one hand on the bed, he pulled back, moved his other hand to hers, and placed it where they were joined.
“Focus on this,” Dallas grit out, determined to hold off until he’d punched through her pain and she felt something other than loss.
Nicola whispered, “Yes,” as the mounting despair she felt mixed with her need to be claimed by Dallas, to drown in the possession of her body so she couldn’t think.
“This” Dallas hissed as she wrapped her hand tighter around his cock, “is all that matters in this moment,” Dallas ground out.
“Yes,” she whispered, then begged, “Please, I want to feel something other than pain.”
“Then let it go and give it to me.”
“I’m scared,” she cried out.
“Don’t be,” he fired back.
“You’ll leave me too, and then I’ll be empty.”
Dallas paused for a moment, holding her eyes with his. He saw her fear, her pain, and the anger that was choking the life out of her.
“Give it to me and I promise I’ll guard it with my fuckin’ soul. I swear, I’ll fight the demons back and keep you safe.”
Nicola whimpered, her breath catching as she stared back at him, hope settling across her face instead of anguish.
Dallas saw the moment when she let go, trusting him to carry the load, trusting him with her heart, trusting him to keep her safe. The tears flowed faster than before, but the line that had been drawn sharply across her forehead since that morning melted away. She let go, giving it all to him. It was the single most beautiful thing he’d seen in his thirty-four years—complete surrender of her mind, body, and soul.
With a growl of possessive triumph, Dallas pulled her up, claimed her mouth, and then rammed back into her until they were both burning. Then, with a shattering intensity, he took them both over the precipice.
***
Yellow crocuses pushed through the winding gardens in my backyard. Their golden color bringing life to the brown beds as the days grew warmer; evidence that spring was upon us, followed by the sweltering heat of an Oklahoma summer. Jason Aldean was right when he said the skies here were beautiful, watercolors that took your breath away.
Staring at the burnt orange of the rising sun, mixed with robin’s egg blue
of the sky, helped settle my nerves, and grounded me in a way nothing else could. This was God’s country, from the rolling plains of the panhandle to the highest peak of the Ouachita Mountains in eastern Oklahoma. God came first here, followed by family and country. We weren’t a bustling state, but laid back with a smile for our neighbors and a helping hand if one needed it. It’s one of the reasons my father chose to stay here, and one of the reasons I chose not to move when my writing career took off. That being said, right now, sitting on my back patio watching the rising sun on those water-colored skies, I wished like hell I’d left. If I had, none of this would have happened, yet, at the same time, I knew that God didn’t make mistakes— he was in control. For whatever reason, God guided me to stay, laying the groundwork for the events that happened this past week, and I knew that in the end He would show me why my friend had to die. That ultimately gave me the comfort I needed to shift the blame from myself to the person who was responsible—Dark Prince.
Now we just had to find him and make him pay.
With my eyes on the horizon, I opened my computer and clicked on my OneDrive account through Microsoft. When my computer crashed a few days before I was in such a panic over losing my files that I’d forgotten I had uploaded them all to my online office account through Microsoft. I’d taken thorough notes on the man in the beginning because I thought I would base my killer on him. Knowing now that he probably was, sent a chill through my veins. Shivering as I opened my “Property Of” file, I began reading my notes.
I heard the door to my patio open, but didn’t turn to watch Dallas walk outside. I was concentrating on my notes when a hand brushed the hair from my shoulders. Warm lips touched my neck and an even warmer hand cupped my breast, swiping a thumb across my hard nipple, I closed my eyes and let his strength flow through me, warming my cold body.
“I don’t like waking up to an empty bed,” Dallas whispered in my ear before his hand left my breast to tilt my chin up so he could kiss my lips.