Two Parts Bloody Murder

by Jen J. Danna

  Luckily, it seemed that he’d realized that mistake in time.

  Sunday, 2:15 a.m.

  Lowell Residence

  Brookline, Massachusetts

  Leigh rolled over in the dark, her hand sliding slowly across the sheets in search of Matt’s warmth. Gradually, the coolness of the cotton under her fingertips penetrated her sluggish brain. Realizing the other side of the bed was empty, she groggily opened her eyes. Swaying slightly, she propped herself up on one elbow, pushing her long hair away from her face with her free hand to peer around.

  Across the room, the wood blinds on one of the windows were open, moonlight slipping in icy strips through the slats to bathe the room in a silvery glow, dimly illuminating the man stretched out on the chaise before the window. “Matt?”

  He started slightly at the sound of his name, his head turning on the padded cushion toward her. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

  “Only because you weren’t here.” She pushed back the covers and slid out of bed, the hem of Matt’s borrowed T-shirt falling to cover her upper thighs. The chill of the hardwood floor under her feet, combined with the cool air washing over her sleep-warmed body, raised goosebumps on her skin. She rubbed her palms up and down her upper arms. “Why are you awake?”

  “I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you with my tossing and turning.” When she started across the room to him, he shifted over on the double-wide chaise, pulling back the cashmere throw he’d pulled over his naked body to ward off the November chill.

  She slid in next to him, curling into his warmth as he settled the throw over them both before pulling her in close. She laid her head on his shoulder, her hand flat against the bare skin of his chest as she stared out sleepily through the blinds into the night beyond. Beneath her ear, the steady thump thump of Matt’s heart was a comforting rhythm, lulling her into relaxation, making her limbs feel heavy. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

  His chest expanded on a breath, then slowly released. “I guess it was Colin’s visit and all the memories it stirred up. I’ve tried to put that stuff away for so long that this was like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

  “And all the memories came pouring out?”

  “Sort of. As much as I was looking forward to seeing Colin again, I was sort of uncomfortable about dredging it all up after so long. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.”

  “He’s moved on, just like you have. It’s a part of what makes you who you are, but it doesn’t define you.” She stroked his chest soothingly with her thumb. “Just look at the two of you. He’s still a part of the Church, but using his time in the Navy as a springboard for helping vets find a place in the world. You have a foot in both the academic and law enforcement worlds, all while training your students to be conscientious scientists and responsible adults.” She stifled a huge yawn behind her hand and snuggled in a little closer, rubbing her cheek against his chest. “I like Colin. It’s too bad that he’s heading back to D.C. so soon.”

  “Yeah, but we’re back in touch now. I think today has reminded both of us not to let that connection go. Besides, it’s only a short flight between Boston and D.C. Maybe we could do a weekend there soon. When the case is over, I mean.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “You just think he’s cute.”

  “The man is flat-out gorgeous, but he’s also a priest. It’s a cross we women will just have to bear.” She poked him lightly in the stomach, smiling when he chuckled. “But that’s okay; I’m pretty satisfied with my current lover. He’s pretty gorgeous in his own right.” She ran her hand over his chest under the soft throw and then down over his hip.

  He growled low in her ear. “You’re playing with fire. We don’t have a lot of room on this chaise.”

  She rested her chin on top of her hand and stared into his eyes. “Don’t think you can manage it?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Is that a challenge?”

  She grasped his hip a little harder, her short, buffed nails biting ever so lightly into skin and muscle. An invitation and gauntlet thrown down, all in one. “Without taking us down to the floor? You bet.”

  “Done.” In one quick move that left her gasping in surprise, he rolled into her, settling himself against her. She clutched at his warm skin, conscious of the edge of the chaise beneath her hip as she anchored herself to him.

  “Good thing we don’t have to worry about condoms anymore.” She gave a small laugh, thinking of the packet of pills in her purse. “Or you’d lose that challenge and we’d be on the floor for sure.” She wrapped her arms tighter around him, her palms sliding up his broad back before one hand latched firmly over his shoulder. “If I’m going down, you’re coming with me.”

  “If we go down, we’re going to have some explaining to do to my father about all the banging and crashing. He knows I have a sex life, but I’m not sure I want him to have that much insider knowledge.” He leaned in close, a wicked grin curving his lips. “I’ll just have to make sure you stay close.”

  He rolled over, pulling her with him to sprawl over his body, his hands tangling in her hair as he tugged her mouth down to his to nip playfully at her lips. His mouth slid over her jaw as his fingers slipped under the T-shirt to find the ticklish spots on her sides. His fingers skated teasingly over her ribs just as he bit down lightly at the spot where her shoulder met her throat. The combined sensations drew forth a moan that ended on a choked laugh as she tried to curl her body in, protectively sheltering her sides with her elbows while poking at him playfully in response. He soothed the bite with a gentle open-mouthed kiss while his hands moved to the hem of his old T-shirt. With a quick motion, he drew it up over her head and off the arms he gently coerced away from her sides. Cool air washed over her naked body for just a moment before he pulled her back in against the warmth of his skin.

  “You’re making this too easy,” she murmured. “Where’s the risk?”

  He slid both hands over her hips, then, before she realized his intent, grasped tight as he did a quick roll to his side, letting her body slide partially over the edge of the chaise. She gave a small cry of surprise, her fingers slipping over his bare skin as she tried to gain purchase, but his arms were already around her, hauling her in against him, her legs tangling with his.

  “How’s that for risk?” His voice was a low whisper in the dark, his words brimming with amusement.

  Still clutching him, she pressed her face into the warm column of his throat, her heart pounding as surprised laughter bubbled up, and the words slipped from her lips before she even considered them. “I love you.” She jerked back a few inches, shocked by her own blurted admission.

  Matt froze in her arms, the green highlights in his surprised eyes sliding toward dark gold in the dimness as he stared at her. As the silence drew out, Leigh had a sudden sinking feeling in her gut as all warmth drained from her body. You did it too soon. He’s not ready, and now you’ve ruined it. This wasn’t the right moment. Cursing herself, she started to draw back, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the indecision on his face, preparing to make light of her words to save face for both of them.

  His hand curled around her nape, tangling in her hair, holding her still. When the silence stretched on, she finally opened her eyes to find his face near, his eyes warm, and a tender smile on his lips. “Say it again.”

  She swallowed. “I love you?”

  “You’re not sure?” His voice was husky as he stroked gentle fingers through the hair at her temple. “Only say it if you’re sure.”

  She considered the warmth in his eyes, and decided there was safety there. He would catch her when she fell. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” His mouth opened over hers again as he pulled her in. All laugher was gone now, replaced by a quiet intensity as he trailed his fingers down the soft skin of her back to the curve of her hips. He shifted his thigh more firmly between hers as he palmed her hip, his lips curving in a satisfied smile against her skin at her
sharp intake of breath at the pressure and friction. Hooking his hand behind her knee, he settled it higher on his hip before he locked his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, sliding slowly and smoothly into her as he settled her against him, pelvis to pelvis. She gasped raggedly, her hips jerking subtly as she clutched him tighter.

  “Easy,” he whispered. “Take it slow.” He started to move, slowly stroking into her, not letting her take all of him. Her hand slid down his back and over his hip, trying to pull him closer so she could take him deeper, but he held firm, keeping the rhythm slow and steady, letting the pressure build with agonizing slowness.

  With his free hand, he gently cupped her face, tracing her cheekbone with a feather-light touch of his thumb as his mouth found hers again and his tongue slowly slid against hers while he kept his movements slow and even. Her body moved against his, involuntarily finding a complementary rhythm as his fingers stroked the base of her spine, his breathing becoming as labored as hers.

  Wrapped in his arms, in his heat and scent, she struggled to keep the pace slow, to draw out the pleasure. To maintain the deepening connection she felt with him as they moved together in the dark, straining for breath, needing to feel his heartbeat pounding with hers, needing not only the physical relief that the act would bring, but the emotional bond she shared with him as well.

  As he had done, she stroked the fingers of one hand over his cheek and then down over his throat, coming to rest at the base, where she could feel his pulse pound under her fingertips and the rapid breaths he took.

  The orgasm suddenly shimmered through her, arching her body and stealing her breath as her fingers clutched him tightly. He moved against her, then held, tense and motionless for a moment as the pleasure streaked through him. Time stretched to one slow heartbeat between them before they both collapsed limply onto the cushions.

  His low chuckle drifted across the cushion.

  Blowing a few strands of hair out of eyes, her chest still heaving, she raised her head. In the dark, his eyes were barely a gleam, but they were fixed on her. “What’s so funny?”

  “I win.” He pulled her down to cushion her head against his chest, his heart racing like a jackhammer in her ear. “In so many ways.”

  “I think that’s ‘we win,’ ” she said, pressing a kiss to his damp chest. “I hope you don’t want to go back to bed, because if you do, you’ll have to carry me. And if you drop me, you get to explain what happened to your father.”

  The rumble of his laugh vibrated his ribs again, but he made no effort to move, so she settled in and let the lethargy take her under.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: HATFIELDS & MCCOYS

  * * *

  Hatfields & McCoys: a feud between two families beginning around the end of the American Civil War and spanning three generations. It was sparked by the murder of Union soldier Asa Harmon McCoy by a Hatfield member of a Confederate home guard, the alleged theft of some razorback hogs more than a decade later, and the doomed romance between bootlegger Johnse Hatfield and Roseanna McCoy. Over the years both sides made tentative offers of peace, including squaring off in a joint appearance on the television show Family Feud in 1979. The families signed an official peace treaty after the 9/11 attacks, and today Jim McCoy and Mark Hatfield are engaged in a joint venture legally selling moonshine based upon old Hatfield family recipes.

  Monday, 10:41 a.m.

  Essex Detective Unit

  Salem, Massachusetts

  Leigh flipped through the photos in the file again and took another sip of coffee. The bitter brew burned a trail down to her stomach and she pushed it away in disgust. Someday, she was going to teach these guys how to make decent coffee before one of them became their latest victim. She could just see it on the case report—Cause of death: Cop coffee.

  She continued going through the crime scene photos from Anna Kain’s murder—the kitchen, the hallway, the body—before moving onto the photos taken from other areas of the house.

  A small window flashed briefly in the corner of her monitor heralding a new message and Leigh set down the photos and turned to her email.

  Satisfaction warmed her at the return message from a local bank. Finally. Joe Emerson’s financials. The bank had done fairly quick work considering she’d delivered the warrant on Saturday morning and had requested information going back over thirty years. She’d been lucky to have caught Rob Tucker working late on Friday and it had been his lightning-fast skills that had pinpointed the bank in question. First thing Saturday, she’d applied for her warrant and happily waited while the judge promptly signed it, mostly, she suspected, to get her out of his kitchen so he could go back to his family’s Saturday morning.

  She opened the file, scanning it quickly, her smile spreading as pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. She sent the information to the bullpen printer, and then stood waiting as page after page spewed out. Gathering the papers, she tucked them into a file folder and then into her messenger bag. She glanced at her watch; she’d call ahead of time to make sure they were all in the lab, but she could easily get there before lunch.

  Her phone rang, and she reached for it, wondering if Matt had some sort of sixth sense letting him know that she was on to something. But a peek at the caller ID had her abruptly changing gears. She did a quick double check of the bullpen—empty—so she could talk freely. “Hey, Claire.”

  “Leigh, thanks for getting me that new ten-print card so quickly.”

  “Nothing like a nice leisurely drive to Shirley on a Sunday afternoon.”

  “Did Cabrera give you any trouble?”

  “Not at all. He’s been inside a long time and he’s no dummy. I didn’t have to say anything for him to know that wanting a fresh set of prints at this point meant that we’re on to something. So … are we on to something?”

  “We are. For a second time, there’s no doubt his prints don’t match the crime scene prints. The two ten-print cards match though, so you’re absolutely looking at the tech misidentifying Cabrera as the positive match.”

  “And you think it wasn’t really an error, so to speak. You think it was a blatant misidentification.”

  “I do.” There was no hesitation in Claire’s voice. “This was a tech with a reputation for being solid. He wasn’t a rookie.”

  “And you’re willing to testify to that?”

  “You bet.”

  “Good, because we’re going to need you.” Leigh started to stack the photos from the Kain house together. The photo at the top of the pile was from the Kain’s bedroom and she casually scanned it as she tapped the photos on the desk to line them up. “I’m going to take this to Harper today. By tomorrow the case will be officially reopened and—” Her eyes went wide as her breath froze in her throat. She blinked once, then again, to make sure she was seeing what was in front of her. No, it was still there. Holy shit. If she was seeing what she thought she was seeing, this changed everything.

  “Leigh, are you there?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Claire, sorry, something really big just came up. Thanks so much for going over those prints. Can you send me a full report?”

  “The report’s already done. I’ll shoot it over to you right away. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Hopefully we’ll have new prints to compare soon. Thanks, Claire.” She set down the phone and took a minute to breathe before picking up the photo again. She opened one of her drawers and rummaged for a minute, finally extracting a magnifying glass. Swiveling in her chair for better light, she angled the photo and the lens for better visualization.

  She hadn’t been mistaken. This really did change everything.

  All the connections suddenly started to make sense.

  “Coincidence, my ass.” She reached for her phone, wedging it between her shoulder and her ear as she packed up the file with both hands. When Matt picked up, she barely gave him time to talk. “I’m on my way. I’ve got something big. Have everyone there, and I’ll see you in an hour.”
>
  She left the office at a run.

  Monday, 11:58 a.m.

  Boston University, School of Medicine

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Matt blew out a frustrated breath and closed his laptop. He’d read the same paragraph in a journal article on measurements of the juvenile clavicle using computed tomography three times, and still hadn’t absorbed a word of it. He glanced over to where his students were sprawled at their writing stations. They were surfing the web or texting while they waited, but he could read their impatience in tapping fingers and constant fidgeting. He’d called them back from the Old North Church and they’d raced across town, beating Leigh by over twenty minutes at this point.

  Leigh came through the door at that moment. “Sorry, I had to make a stop in Salem and then I hit traffic. Of all the days …”

  Matt pushed away from his desk to stand. “What have you got?”

  “Remember how we’re not doing coincidences for this case? This just cements it. It also ties a whole lot of things together.” She waved the students over and they all gathered around her. She pulled two case photos from her bag. “Remember this?” She held out a photo of the items recovered from Peter Holt’s pocket—his wallet, keys, cell phone, and the pair of antique cuff links.

  “You’re talking about the cuff links?” Matt said. “The Blue Ruin. His grandfather’s cuff links.”

  “Exactly. We’ve talked about them as being custom-made and Charles Ward’s way of subtly thumbing his nose at The Man.”

  “We have. Leigh, where are you going with this?”

  “I’m going here.” She handed him the photo of the Kains’ bedroom and the magnifying glass. “This is one of the crime scene photos taken at the time of Anna Kain’s murder in nineteen-seventy-five. Most of the photos are of the kitchen and hall area, but they also took shots of the other rooms, to use as back up to any potential entry and egress and for any additional evidence. This is the photo of the Kains’ master bedroom. Look at the dresser.”