by Hamel, B. B.
Tonight, though, Sloan saw the work of a true monster.
After ten more minutes, I could see the flashing red and blue lights of a police cruiser up ahead.
“Line is just up there,” Sloan commented as if I were blind.
“Yeah,” I grunted.
“When was the last time you were on a scene?”
“Not long enough.”
We lapsed back into silence as we slowly pulled up next to a cruiser.
People were milling about everywhere. The crime scene people were wandering around in their anti-contamination suits taking pictures of just about everything while the plainclothes stood around and looked important.
Sloan parked and we climbed out. “She’s just over here,” he said.
I nodded and followed him as we ducked under the yellow police tape line.
I took a deep breath. It really hadn’t been long enough since I was last at a crime scene. Vivid memories came spilling back, memories I didn’t really want. Martin, his throat bloodied, his skin pale. Seed lying on the ground, unmoving. The other agents and the damn looks they gave me, like I was some scumbag criminal myself. But I wasn’t that guy anymore.
We picked our way through the small crowd. I caught a few glances thrown my way, but Sloan’s presence meant that they weren’t going to say a word.
Sloan stopped and turned to me. “I heard about what happened with you and the bureau,” he said.
I nodded. “Okay.”
“You ready for this?”
“Let’s get it over with.”
He gave me a long look. Sloan wasn’t such a bad guy, but I would have given anything to get the fuck away from him. He was in his mid-fifties with short-cropped hair greying at the sides and at least an extra ten pounds hanging off his tall frame. We were almost the same height, a few inches over six feet, and he looked like he had been a linebacker in his younger days.
“Come on,” he said, and we walked the last fifteen feet.
And there she was. Lying propped up against a tree was a female, approximately twenty years old. Pale skin, brown hair. Her mouth was open, but her eyes were closed. Her hands were lovingly placed in her lap, and every one of her fingers were removed.
I knelt down next to a tech that was photographing the victim’s hands. “What can you tell me?”
“Victim, female, eighteen to twenty, Caucasian. No I.D. yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“Struggle?”
“No. No signs of a struggle. If I had to guess, I’d say the cause of death was an overdose or a poison.”
I nodded, looking at the girl. She looked like so many other girls I had seen, every one of them so young, none of them deserving what happened.
“Sexual assault?” I asked.
“Signs of it, but we’re not sure.”
I nodded and stood up, slowly walking around the tree.
Everything about it screamed Lester Seed, and also none of it was right.
“What do you think?” Sloan asked.
“I’ve seen stuff like this before.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So you know this sicko?”
“Guy’s name was Lester Seed. It was, at least.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Seed is dead.” I paused and looked at him. “I killed him.”
Sloan was quiet for a second, but I could see the faint surprise in his expression. “I knew you had a bust go bad but . . .” He trailed off and gathered himself before starting again. “So this is him then.”
I nodded slowly. “Or someone that worked with him.”
“An accomplice. What’s he doing here?”
“I think he’s sending me a message, Sheriff.”
“What message?”
I looked back at the body, at the poor girl. “That he’s coming for me.”
There was a hush in the woods in that moment as I watched the tech finish up her pictures. She stood and walked back toward the trucks, probably to drop off her film and to grab another camera.
“But you said this isn’t like him,” Sloan said finally.
I nodded. “Seed never left his victims out in the open like this. The ritual dismemberment, the lack of DNA evidence, and the sexual assault are all consistent with Seed, but the way he left the body here isn’t.”
“So whoever this is, they’re changing the pattern.”
“Seems to be the case.” I began to circle the tree again with Sloan in tow. “And if it’s not Seed, then whoever this is may get sloppy. I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of finding something.”
“I’ll tell the techs to keep a close eye out,” Sloan grunted as we stopped walking. “Is he going to do it again?”
I looked him in the eye. “I’d be very surprised if he didn’t.”
“Fuck,” the sheriff said softly.
“Yeah,” I answered. “Fuck.”
There was not much else to say at that point. I promised to send him over my file on Seed, and he promised to share whatever they found. We got back in Sloan’s truck and started heading back toward town.
My mind was a mess, ranging out through the possibilities. Who was killing, if it wasn’t Seed? Definitely someone with a connection to him, but also with a connection to me. Someone that wanted to find me, and to send me a message.
I couldn’t help but start thinking about Laney. I wished I hadn’t answered the phone, wished I had just kissed her instead, told her to stop talking.
But I also knew she was in danger. Actually, my whole family was. I couldn’t rule out the possibility that whoever was doing these killings would come at me directly.
As Sloan dropped me off at my office and I climbed the stairs, I made a decision. I opened my office door and began to pack a duffel bag, hastily throwing stuff in without much thought.
I was going to do something I’d never wanted to do.
I was moving back into my mother’s house.
Chapter Eleven: Laney
I rolled out of bed, eyes a bit bleary. I stretched, my head still fuzzy with sleep as I opened my bedroom door and padded down the hallway.
I didn’t get much sleep the night before. Visions of serial killers sneaking in through my window kept me tossing and turning until it was almost pointless to try to sleep.
Without thinking, I pushed open the bathroom door.
“Hey there, sis,” Easton said.
I stopped short, my mouth hanging open.
He was standing in front of the sink wearing only a pair of tight black boxer briefs. I took a small step backward, pretty much ready to panic and run away, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. His body was lean and muscular, tall and built, and he was just grinning at me like it was no big deal.
“Um, good morning,” I mumbled.
“Get much sleep?” he asked, going back to shaving.
“Not really. I’ll give you privacy.”
I turned and started walking away, my cheeks flushed red.
“Stay and enjoy the show, Laney,” he called after me. “You can barely stop staring anyway.”
I retreated into my room, shutting the door quickly behind me.
I was so embarrassed. I had just walked in on him like it was no big deal. True, he didn’t seem to mind, and he probably got a kick out of the whole thing, but still. I didn’t know how it had slipped my mind that he was living with us now, my asshole stepbrother, the strange darkness that I was undeniably attracted to.
I curled back up in bed and waited fifteen minutes before finally venturing out tentatively.
Fortunately, he was gone, his bedroom door standing open, his room empty.
I went through my normal morning routine, still a little shaken, still a little excited. I dressed, trying not to imagine how Easton would react to every outfit I considered. I needed to remember that he was my stepbrother first, my employer second, and whatever that kiss had made him a distant third.
Dressed, shining, and ready, I descended the stairs.
I wa
lked into the kitchen. Sitting at the island reading the paper was my dad, and sitting across from him drinking a mug of coffee and digging into a bowl of cereal was Easton.
“Good morning, honey,” Dad said.
“Morning.”
Easton just grunted at me. I rolled my eyes and poured some coffee.
I stood there looking at the two main men in my life at the moment and felt this strange, almost surreal and crazy moment of vertigo hit me.
One side of the island was my father, a man who I hadn’t been close with in years, and who I was trying to rekindle a relationship with.
The other side was my stepbrother. He was the man I’d seen most over the last few days, and with who I was beginning to feel things I absolutely never should.
And if my dad ever knew what was happening between Easton and me, I could only guess how he’d react.
“What are you staring at?” Easton asked.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, looking away.
“You okay, sweetie?” Dad asked.
“Fine.” I took a big sip of coffee to cover my embarrassment, and scalded the roof of my mouth. “Shit!” I said. “Hot.”
Easton burst out laughing and Dad just shook his head, smiling.
“Going to work soon?” Dad asked Easton.
“I’m ready whenever Laney is.”
“Don’t let me hold you up.”
He stood, taking his bowl over to the sink. “After you, sis.”
Dad smiled. “Great to see you two getting along.”
“It is nice,” Easton said. “We really get along well. She’s great to work with.”
I took another sip of coffee and put my mug on the table.
“Come on,” I said. “See you, Dad.”
“Have a good day.”
Easton followed me out the front door and down toward his car.
I stopped and whirled around. “Before we leave, one thing,” I said.
“What?”
“If you’re living with us now, no bullshit jokes or gross innuendos around our parents.”
He looked back at me innocently. “Now why would I do such a thing?”
“Because you’re a jerk and you love to get a rise out of me.”
“All of that is true. You’re just so damn sexy when you’re frustrated.”
“Yeah, well, stop. I know we kissed, but our parents can never know about it.”
He nodded. “Fine. Anything else?”
“Just drive us to work.”
“Sure thing, sis.”
“Stop calling me sis,” I muttered as I climbed into the car.
I could hear him laughing to himself as he walked toward the driver’s side.
He handed me the coffee cup and paid the bored-looking kid at the drive-through window.
“Thanks,” I said, sipping the hot drink.
“Sure.” He pulled back out into traffic.
“What’s on the agenda today?”
He shrugged. “Not sure. I might have to go down to the sheriff’s office later, talk to them about that case.”
“What’s happening with that?”
He was quiet for a second. “Remember that article you read in the paper?”
“Sure.”
“Back when I was in the FBI, I was tracking a killer named Lester Seed. He killed in a way that’s very similar to the recent murders around here.”
“Do you think it’s him?”
“Maybe.” He fell silent again, staring straight ahead.
I wanted to tell him that I’d seen the file. I wanted to admit it so badly that it almost hurt. I was tired of sneaking around and pretending like I didn’t know what was going on.
And maybe I could help. It wasn’t like I meant to find the file in the first place. Maybe he’d be relieved.
“I found your file,” I blurted out.
He didn’t react. “Oh yeah?”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, the words coming out in a rush. “I was in the bathroom and it was poking out from behind the toilet and I couldn’t help but look at it.”
The silence between us stretched on. I wanted to keep babbling, to explain why I had looked at it, how it wasn’t my fault, but I knew it wouldn’t help. He didn’t look angry, but he wasn’t speaking either.
“I guess you read it,” he said finally.
“I skimmed it.”
“What do you think?”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You’re not mad?”
“I’m mad,” he said. “I’m pretty pissed off. But it’s done. I would have told you about it eventually, and I guess it’s my fault for not hiding it better.”
“I’m really sorry. I know I violated your space.”
He shrugged. “So, what do you think about it?”
“It can’t be him,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “You shot him in the chest.”
“But the murders are him.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“So we have three scenarios here. One, Lester is somehow alive. I doubt that’s the case. Two, he was working with someone, which I also doubt.”
“Why?” I cut in.
He shook his head slowly. “Hard to explain. Sometimes when you’re deep in a case you start to think like the guy you’re chasing. I don’t think it’s possible to get any deeper into a case than I was with Seed. He doesn’t work with other people.”
“Okay. So what’s the third option?”
“A copycat.”
“Someone else killing like Seed did?”
He looked frustrated. “Yes. But there are details in the killings that weren’t released to the public, stuff a copycat shouldn’t know about.”
“Plus, why would they be killing around here?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t.”
We pulled into the office park and Easton climbed out of the car. I grabbed my coffee and followed him. I could tell that the conversation was over, but I was burning with more questions. My heart was hammering in my chest, beating wildly. I couldn’t believe he had opened up to me like that. Sure, he said he was mad, but he seemed more interested in getting my opinion about the case than anything else.
Did he respect me like that? I could never tell if he thought I was just some dumb kid or if he thought I actually had some potential. He was such an asshole most of the time that I was somewhat taken aback when he acted like a normal human being.
I followed him up into his office, but as soon as we were inside, he disappeared into the back room. I knew better than to follow him, so I set my stuff up at the desk and checked the messages.
I glanced up as he walked into the bathroom. A minute later, he came back with the file folder and plopped it down on the desk in front of me.
I stared up at him. “What?” I asked.
“Read it through.”
“Are you kidding?”
He came close to me and my mouth hung open. He tipped my chin up toward him, his eyes locked on mine.
“You might as well.”
“What do you want from me?” I whispered to him.
“Nothing. You’re my stepsister. My employee.”
“But what about—”
He grabbed my hair slightly and I gaped, stopping midsentence.
“You’re just a pretty cunt that I want to fuck over and over.”
“If that’s true, you wouldn’t want my opinion.” I paused as I caught the look in his eye. “You need it, don’t you?”
“I need something,” he whispered.
And then he crushed his mouth against mine, kissing me hard.
Everything else was forgotten in that instant as I stood and pressed my body against him, kissing him deep, our tongues running together.
Chapter Twelve: Easton
I pressed her up against the desk, her ass halfway on the top as I kissed her hard.
I knew what I wanted. Laney was so much more than I had bargained for from the start, and she had slowly worn me down over the day
s. At first I’d thought she was some spoiled college kid with no knowledge of the real world, but as we’d worked together, I knew she was so much more than that.
I was pissed when she said she’d read the file. I was pissed at myself for leaving it out and at her for being a sneak. But really, it was better this way. It was better if all my bullshit was out in the open for everyone to know.
Now she knew what I was. She knew what I had done, what had happened to me. She knew my partner was dead because of my recklessness, because I had gotten into Seed’s case far too deep. She knew how we had all drowned.
And it only made me want her more. It made my fucking cock hard thinking about her in her short little skirts and her shirts that showed off her perfect tits. It made me fucking hard to imagine her sweet lips wrapped around my cock, sucking me dry.
I grabbed her computer and dropped it onto the chair. Then I swept all her shit off the top of the desk.
She laughed. “You’re cleaning that up.”
I bit her bottom lip and felt her tits. “Not a chance.”
“You can’t just make a mess.”
I slowly slid my hands down her front and slipped them under her skirt, up along her thigh and in between her legs. Her pussy was soaked through, her underwear already useless.
“I’m not the mess here,” I said as I began to gently rub her spot.
“Shit,” she gasped. “I am not a mess.”
“You’re soaked for me, Laney.”
“So what?”
“So, you’re a dirty girl trying to fuck her boss.”
“And her stepbrother. Don’t forget.”
She gasped as I kissed her neck and slipped my hand underneath her panties, feeling the slick folds of her skin and finally pressing my finger against her clit. I began to rub in soft circles and she shivered against me, letting out small moans that I stifled with my mouth.
I felt her hands lock behind my neck as she leaned back farther, and I pushed her up, pressing her back down onto the top of the desk. I quickly tugged her panties off and slid them over her shoes, tossing them away.
I climbed up on top of her and pressed my body down on top of hers, rubbing my hard cock between her legs.
“What if a client comes?” she asked between gasps.
“Let them see.”