by D. C. Stone
He made an exasperated sound. “Charlie, it’s the detective’s bureau, and while I know you’ve only been on this side of the house—the investigative side—for a few years, you can trust me when I say these boys notice a hell of a lot more than the fact that you’re a woman. And please, spare an old man’s heart, don’t remind me of that any more. All I still see when I look at you is a little bratty kid with uneven pigtails, trying to chase after the boys. Only then, it was all about the ball, not the person.”
She shrugged. “It still might be about the ball today. So anyhow, what’s up?”
“God, sometimes I wonder about you.” He studied her, seeming to weigh a hearty decision.
She rolled her eyes. She had never met a more dramatic bunch than cops, and seeing as she was one, and had grown up with one, that said a lot. Leaning forward, the chair creaked, and she braced her elbows on her knees. “If you got something for me, Uncle Ben, then now is the time to speak.”
His hardened expression softened at her private name for him. Her father and he grew up together, joined the academy as a unit, and became partners on the force. He served as the best man at her father’s wedding, the godfather for her birth, and as a hand to hold during her father’s dying breath. Chief Woolsey was the closest thing to family she had left.
“I have a case for you. It’s not in your normal operational area of expertise, but I have faith in your abilities to handle this. And before you open it up, let me just tell you that this came down from the council and also from one of the big three-letter agencies. We were containing it, or at least trying to, but there’s been some sort of link between a bunch of calls we’ve been getting here. I think you’re going to be the best to handle it.” He slid a thin manila file across the desk.
She picked up the folder and skimmed the first page, her brows lifting as she read. Surprise, shock, and confusion ran through her system, each one stronger than the last. No way in hell could she tell the chief about last night now. Not if she wanted to move away from her petty embezzlements and prove that she could do the job of a detective.
Once finished with the short report, she glanced up to meet Ben’s troubled gaze. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What in the hell is this? A joke?”
“Watch your damn mouth,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m afraid it’s no joke. I need you to check it out. Go talk to the victims. Give us a leg up on this before the community cries foul.”
“I’ve heard worse from you.” She flashed a smile that would most likely give him cavities for months, then dropped it as quickly as it appeared. A foul feeling crept up her neck, a disturbance over what she’d read.
He opened his mouth, but she forged on. “You send me on nothing but petty shoplifting, bank forgeries, and crimes nowhere as serious as this. I can understand the sensitivity of it, seeing as some pervert peeked his way in on a few women undressing. But what I don’t get is why now?”
He sat up straight, as if she smacked him across the face. “You complaining? Do I need to remind you of the order of rank here?”
She stuttered. Shit, that did not come out right. “N—no, not at all, Chief.”
“Hell, Charlie, maybe you’re not ready.” He reached for the file and she jerked it out of his reach.
Damn it, she was messing this all up. The good ole’ boy club was evident in her small town and even smaller police unit. With a village of seven thousand residents, if someone sneezed on one side, they’d hear about it fifteen minutes later on the other side. Only two females were on payroll, minus the chief’s secretary, and the other woman worked nights on the road in patrol.
“No, I am ready. I’m just curious as to why now. On something like this?” She shouldn’t push her luck, knew without a doubt that this was her chance. But damn if she understood why.
He let out a deep sigh, one speaking of frustration, and sat back in his chair. The loud, dreadful creak gave away its age and the burden it held. Chief Woolsey lifted a hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his thick fingers weathered with age. “Listen…” He pinned her with a sympathetic gaze. “I need you to handle this because you’re my only female detective. I hate to say it, but this isn’t the first Peeping Tom we’ve had in the recent months. Patrols were responding before, then the mayor got wind of it, and asked us to step in. That’s when you responded to a couple calls. The boys have also been out on one or two.
“Something must have happened for this guy to increase his acts of perverseness. Others have reported strange men standing outside their windows, but nothing was taken seriously, and before last month, nothing was passed off to us. If I send someone like Peter or Dwayne out there, I’ll have the mayor on my ass faster than Pete can put down a cheeseburger.”
Well, hell, he did have a point. Peter was abrupt, tactless and somehow, despite being married to the sweetest lady in Nyack, lacked any sympathy. Dwayne, on the other hand, well, his hobbies included trolling for women. Twenty-four, seven. This—she glanced at the file—was not a case for them. On one hand she wanted the chief to look at her and value her skills, to trust her as a detective. On the other, she shouldn’t press her luck. This could be her chance. Holding in last night’s secret sat in her throat like a rock.
She stood. Her palms sweated with excitement and her mouth went dry. “All right, I’ll go check it out. But I’m going to ask for one thing.”
He held up his hands. “Anything you need.”
“This one doesn’t get taken away.” She sucked in a quiet breath and waited. Too many damn cases in the past had been stolen from her. The first sign of trouble or violence, and she was pulled from the investigation, tucked away in a tidy little hole of safety. Despite the circumstances surrounding this incident, she wanted to use this as her chance to prove she was as good as any one of the boys.
He frowned and laid his head back on the chair. “Like I said, Charlie, I need you on this. Someone is out there, pardon the pun, poking his nose where it doesn’t belong. I need a softer hand on this, one who will be the face for these victims and fight for them. I won’t take it away. I will warn you that I have a few feds poking their way into this, too, and I’m not getting a warm and fuzzy feeling about that. But you have my word. Consider it yours till it’s closed.”
She grinned so wide, she thought her face would crack. “Thanks, Chief.” She gestured over her shoulder. “I’m going to head down now, talk with some of the additional victims and see if we can pick up on anything the responding officers didn’t.” Half the damn time, due to the size of their office, and because they didn’t see a whole lot of crime in the village, the patrolman didn’t get all the details and left gaping holes in the victim’s stories. It wasn’t anything on the officers not doing their jobs, just that this area wasn’t equipped for major crime.
Woolsey nodded. “You taking Pete or Dwayne with you?”
The other two detectives made up their small unit, and had plenty to work on. “Naw, I can take this on my own. Should be a simple response. Besides, I hear someone broke into the Ms. Fisher’s kitchen last night and took the two dozen lemon cheesecakes she made for the PTO bake-off.”
The chief cursed and she fought her smile. He didn’t put on extra pounds around his waist from eating healthy. No, he was often the first in line whenever the ladies were baking.
“Every pie?” he asked, features tight.
“I’m afraid so. Dwayne’s out dealing with the bandits now. Pete is running fingerprints in IAFIS.”
The phone on his desk rang and he thinned his lips. “This should be the mayor. Christ, these damn kids. Annual pranks seem to come in right on time. Every year, right before graduation.”
She laughed. “Well, it is tradition with the senior class. I still remember when we…” She flashed him a grin, turned to leave.
“I did not just hear that, Charlie! Keep me updated.”
She left his office, a curve tilting her lips, and headed out of the building. Her smile died as she remembered what
she was responding to. In the small town of Nyack, things like this did not happen. Nestled on the Hudson River and an hour away from New York City, they were close enough to get a few crazies, but never anything comparable to this.
Charlie slid into her dark gray 2010 Crown Victoria, and the engine roared to life as she rolled down the windows. Lifting the heavy brown curls from her neck, she let the cooler breeze relieve the heated interior and her skin.
Staring at nothing in particular, she ran through all of the options she could think of that would draw this kind of individual to Nyack. Their town wasn’t any bigger than one square mile. With seven thousand residents, and a picturesque downtown to the village that stepped tourists and villagers back in history, it was a contented type of lifestyle here. One that had everyone smitten with small town charm.
To have this guy casting a shadow over the safety and peace of their community?
She held this case for all of ten minutes and already she had a bad feeling about what was to come.
Chapter Two
The crowbar popped the window with ease. He removed the tool and glanced at the white painted wood. Small splinters warped up from where the grip rested, but was unnoticeable to anyone not paying attention. Adrenaline surged, and his pulse pounded hard in his throat. He paused, his leather covered hands gripping the frame, and listened, waiting for someone to catch him. Minutes ticked in slow motion, wind whooshed by, the river lapped against the shore with lazy ripples.
No one came.
Nothing stopped him.
A few nights ago, he had stood outside the dark-skinned beauty’s window. For days he’d been wrapped up in his own thoughts and his fantasies involving one Detective Lopez. It had held the dark demon inside him at bay. He’d spent hours sating his lust with his own hand and coming up with all the different ways he’d finally approach her.
Tonight he planned to take things a step further. He’d waited long enough, fought the compulsion for far too long. The couple that owned this house were out of town. He’d made sure of it, had done the usual surveillance and watched this house for weeks before deciding on, and making, his move.
His lips twitched as he used the muscles of his chest and shoulders to pull his large frame inside. He twisted and scanned the darkened room before shifting his legs over the sill and sliding in silence to the wooden floor.
Rising to his full height, he stretched, feeling energized and humming with anticipation. He pulled the drapes closed with a whisper of softness, small peals of silver balls rolling upon metal. With buoyant steps, he crossed the room, the heavy boots he wore hushed by the rugs laid throughout. He did not need to be so cautious, but those who acted careless suffered grave consequences. He studied, poured over details, read previous instances in which others were caught, and he planned. His emotions did not rule his actions, and in times like this, he thought back to his mother. “You have to hide who you are, my dear,” she said. “Keep it from them all. They won’t understand. You’ll be judged. So baby, do what you have to do, be who you want to be, but do it without anyone knowing.”
He would not be a statistic.
He was much too smart to make a mistake.
Pulling out the heavy Maglite, he turned and settled it on top of the wooden dresser. A soft click followed, and a beam from the flashlight illuminated the area, spilling secrets into view as the room glowed. He paused, waited, listened again.
Mail piled thick in their box. He need not worry. No one was home. Flowers drooped, limp in the window planter, lack of water and care leaving them dehydrated. From the weeks watching, paying attention when the taxi had picked the young couple up, he watched the house for another three days after. When no one came home, he made his move.
No mistakes.
The top drawer rolled open inch by slow inch, displaying the goods he came to find. Black panties, lacy bras, pink thongs, all packed into a neat and tidy space.
He withdrew the material and lifted it to his nose, inhaled, and took the essence of woman into his lungs. Freshly laundered, but there was something more, a knowledge of where these adorned, where they hugged, what they touched. His blood pumped fast. It pulsed its way to his groin and demanded attention.
He dropped one hand to his straining erection and rubbed the thong against his distended member. An impulse, an undeniable craving. The other hand lifted to draw out another piece, repeating the same with it as he had done before. Each inhale ramped up his excitement. Lust pulsed, a wicked techno beat in his pants rivaling the latest dance craze.
He completed the exchanging of items, until all the pieces lay across the bed in a neat and orderly fashion. This is what had him standing out from others, what his mother had learned when he was still a little boy. Lingerie did something for him, to him, that the body of a woman could not. He’d paid attention to his mother when she courted men, used to provide her with his opinion as she dressed for each new date. On the outside, her dresses and pantsuits kept up her conservative appearance, but underneath it all—the part she kept hidden from others—she was very much a slut.
His camera came next, and the snapping of the shutter seemed loud in the quiet house.
Unable to stand it any longer, he bent and unlaced his boots, let the burdens clunk to the floor. He could not get his shirt off fast enough, his gaze feasting on the lingerie spread over the thick, ivory comforter. His hands shook as he unbuttoned his pants and drew the zipper. With jerky, rapid movements, he pushed the black cargos over his hips and did away with his briefs. Cool air brushed over his sweat-slicked skin. He pulled in a shivering gulp of air.
Finally, he stood gloriously naked and reached for the first piece.
****
A week after meeting with the chief, Charlie stepped up to the red door and gave a brisk knock. Peter moved up behind her, the squawk of his radio crackling, before being turned down.
“Did they report anything missing?”
She shook her head and turned toward him. “Not yet, just that someone had been inside.”
She scanned the neighborhood, looking for anything out of place. Children played in yards and raced along the sidewalk, their laughter carried through the air. Dogs barked in the distance, the sounds echoing as if they were speaking to one another. An occasional car passed down the street, the highway a few miles west. Yards highlighted green, colors in abundance sprinkled before each residence in an array of flowers. It looked as it always did, the perfect American hometown nestled in the suburbs right outside of a large city. Yet now, for some reason, it felt off. A taint almost visible, as if the recent spree of invasions coated the vicinity in a gray cloud.
A week had passed since she’d been put on the Peeping Tom cases, and with the lack of any additional complaints coming in, Charlie had grown restless with the need to do something. She hadn’t let on that she’d become a victim, too, and instead tossed her focus directly into the cases. The peeper hadn’t let up, though, and reports continued to come in. Each call she responded to, each victim she had to reassure drove her frustration to new levels. Then, this morning, another call, this one different. The first responders thought the scene and circumstances matched previous ones and could be related to her case. It was enough to turn the breakfast in her stomach to sour milk.
She pivoted away from the neighborhood as a lock disengaged. The door creaked open.
A young couple stood with the same frightened, glassy eyes she had seen days before with Ms. Meyers, just one of the many Peeping Tom victims.
“Mr. Davis?” she asked, her voice soft, yet authoritative.
The dark-haired man nodded and wrapped his arm around his wife who slid closer, her arms clinging around her chest.
Charlie stuck out her hand, “I’m Detective Lopez with the Nyack Police Department. This is Detective Colter.” She nodded in the direction of Peter as Mr. Davis shook her hand. “You reported a break-in?”
The couple exchanged a disturbed look before stepping back. “Yes, we did
, Detective. Would you please come in?”
She stepped inside and wiped her feet on the foyer mat. Like outside, she took stock of what was inside, a big-screen TV sitting along the right wall of the living room, a sound system that must rival her monthly salary next to it. To the left was an office, surrounded with wall-to-wall bookcases filled in abundance with leatherbacks. In the center of the room sat a large oak desk and on top, a MacBook. Everything looked in pristine order, nothing out of place. And all of it looked very expensive.
The door shut behind her, and she withdrew her notepad. “You told the responding officer you weren’t home when this happened?”
Mr. Davis shook his head. “No, we just got back from visiting my mother in Boston.” He gave his wife a squeeze and beamed. “Juliette found out she’s expecting, and we wanted to tell her in person.”
Charlie smiled genuinely. “Congratulations.”
Juliette and Mr. Davis’ grin was brief. “Thank you. As I said, we had just come home, and I was unloading the car when I heard Juliette scream.”
The woman shivered and Charlie cast a quick glance at the movement. With long, dark curls falling like a waterfall down her back, her petite features displayed a fey innocence and drew your attention. She stepped out of her husband’s embrace. “I’m sorry, detectives, would you like something to drink? My manners have escaped me at the moment.”
Charlie shook her head and glanced at Peter, who also declined. She focused back on the young couple. “We’re fine, thank you. I’m sure this must have been a very frightening experience for you both. How about you show us where you believe the break-in happened?”
Mr. Davis nodded and led the way down the hallway toward the back of the house. Charlie followed and heard the soft footfalls of Juliette behind her. They turned a corner and stepped into a large room. In the center sat a king-size bed, white covers mussed, pillows tossed in an odd pattern at the headboard. To the right was a row of three windows showing the backyard and the river’s shore.