Intimate Danger (Empire Blue Book 1)

by D. C. Stone

  She scrutinized the scene, taking in minute details. The bed, the open window drapes, an exposed drawer in the dresser, and a jewelry box filled with colorful pieces, the cashmere sweater draped over a chair. Again, everything was in order and nothing seemed to be missing. She didn’t get how this was linked and perhaps it was time to figure things out. She turned to Mrs. Davis. “What made you scream?”

  The young woman clamped a shaking hand over her mouth, and drew a deep breath.

  “I had come in to set my bag down and change. Immediately something felt off.” She gestured to the bed. “The bed was messed up.” Her hand arched to the window. “A breeze was blowing the curtains aside.” She pointed across the space. “And my dresser drawers were open.” Mrs. Davis turned a hard, frightened look on Charlie. “We never leave the windows ajar. Especially would not have if we knew we would be gone for so long. I fix the bed every morning and make sure everything is in place. Detective Lopez, someone was in this room. I just know it. I feel as if someone has violated me, and I want them found.”

  Charlie frowned and glanced over to the overflowing jewelry box. “Anything missing?”

  Juliette sucked in a breath, pressed a hand to her stomach, and her husband rushed over, drawing her to a chair. He murmured in her ear for a few moments before turning to Charlie. The look of anger in his eyes surprised her and sent cold dread running along her spine.

  “Yes, something is missing. Someone took all of my wife’s undergarments. Bras, panties, everything is gone.”

  Forty minutes later, Charlie stepped outside and moved her sunglasses to block the glare of the bright sun. She heard the house door shut from behind before she stepped up to the car. After opening the driver’s side door, she rested her forearms across the top of the vehicle and took in the picture perfect American home.

  “None of this makes any sense, Pete. I get we have a pervert on our hands, but why in the hell would he steal women’s undergarments? What kind of sick fuck would take stuff like that? Or rather, why? To give to his girlfriend or wife? Could payday be that tight?”

  Pete sighed and pivoted to look at the house, too. “I don’t know.” He turned back and opened his door. “Why break into a house, especially one where thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment and jewelry are lying around, but not take anything? Why only take the woman’s lingerie?”

  She fisted her hand and tapped it on top of her cruiser, musing over the question. The sun had baked the metal and heat radiated off, but her mind continued to spin, questions tumbling too fast to keep track. Something sat out of reach, a link she could not piece together. “I don’t know, but none of this seems right. There’s something we’re missing. Why do this? What does one have to gain from stealing lingerie? It could be some prank, or even a woman looking for a quick grab. Somehow, I doubt that’s it, though.”

  “Well, perhaps the guy just doesn’t feel comfortable going into those frou-frou stores for the stuff.”

  She arched a brow. “Frou-frou stores?”

  He made a face. “Yeah, like the places you women buy your silly fillies.”

  “Ugh, Pete, really?”

  “Whatever, it’s not murder.” He shrugged, looked around, sighed, and got in the car with a grunt. It shifted under his bulk. With that kind of attitude, it was no damn wonder why the chief put her on this case. Charlie turned her head to the right and searched the streets. Life went on like normal, no one the wiser to the turmoil turning the young couple’s lives upside-down. Her neck prickled. Someone was out there. It was a familiar trickling up her spine, just like the one she had in her backyard.

  She pivoted, taking in everything. The shadows dancing under trees, windows with drapes drawn, the trash bins left out from morning pick-up.

  “For Christ sake, Charlie, turn on the car before I roast to death.”

  Snapped back into herself, she rolled her eyes and slid into the car before starting the cruiser. As much as she tried to dismiss the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right, she couldn’t.

  “You feel that, Pete?”

  He huffed out a breath, held it for the few seconds it took for him to lean forward and shift the air conditioning on high. The man acted like it was a hundred degrees outside, and yeah, while the humidity did some damage and caused one to sweat more than should be normal, it wasn’t that hot.

  “Tell me what’s on your mind,” he asked instead of answering her question.

  His quiet order centered her, reminded her of their routine. Two years ago, the chief had pulled her from patrol, set her in the detective unit, and assigned Peter as her trainer. He’d been a tough teacher, pushing her more than she thought was needed, but she’d been the rookie and technically, still was. Pete didn’t let her away from her desk, or her nose out of criminal investigation books, for several weeks once she’d come into the department. Even once she started accompanying him to scenes, the intellectual push continued. He was all about using brains in an investigation, claimed it was more about being smarter than your suspect, staying one-step ahead. And he always wanted to get an understanding of where her head stood in an investigation. They’d discuss it, she’d give her thoughts, and he’d find a way to get her to open up to more, spot something she may have missed.

  And he’d do it without her realizing what he was doing. Without making it feel like a lesson.

  “I think,” she started, “that we’ve got one of two options going here. Either some kid is playing a game, getting his kicks on stealing women’s lingerie, or…”

  “Yes, or…” he prodded.

  “Or, we have a sexual deviant on the loose. Not so much of a sexual predator, but more someone who really gets excited with the act of stealing women’s underthings, not so much what they are.”

  “Meaning?” he inquired in his subtle, pressing way.

  She huffed, but secretly loved how much he still pushed her. After two and a half years, she was still learning. This case was something new. “Meaning,” she supplied, “that it’s not what he’s stealing that makes him excited, it’s the act of doing the crime.”

  Pete gave a big nod. “Ah, yes, that sounds about right. Now, the question would be, is this linked to the other B&Es occurring in the area?”

  She cast a startled glance at him, wondering if he knew exactly how many. “Others?”

  He shifted, tugged on the tight white collar. His double chin was red and wet with sweat. “Yeah, so far I think there have been an additional...three, no four, actually. The last one involved a few bras missing from Shady McPherson’s teenage daughter’s room.”

  She sputtered. “She’s thirteen!”

  “Before that, was a box of teddy’s missing from Ethel Sparinglow’s closet. She claimed she’d had the items since the 1950’s.

  “And before her were a few homes where they hadn’t realized the B&E had occurred until hours later when they opened their underwear drawers and found several pairs of underthings missing.”

  Charlie stared ahead. To say the thefts weren’t connected would be a huge mistake. Any cop worth their badge could see the connection, and for whatever odd reason, this perp, or perps, seemed to have a thing for women’s lingerie. Her earlier thought of this being some kid didn’t taste right anymore. It seemed too big, too risky, too involved with multiple victims involved.

  “The chief know about the others?”

  Pete turned his heavy stare toward her. “Why do you think we’re going over this now? You have to remember, there were one’s patrol had responded to, as well, and we’re trying to track all those down so they can be added to the master file.”

  She wanted to growl, and the urge was strong, the need to hit something overwhelming. “Why haven’t I been brought up to speed on all these other cases yet? If I’m going to be put in charge of this investigation, I should have a damn clue of everything going on.”

  Pete shrugged his massive shoulders. “I’m not going to repeat what I just said, Charlie. We’re trying to get it
all together. The case is a mess right now, files are everywhere, and half of the patrolmen still haven’t gotten their reports in. Just keep your head on straight, take in the information as it comes, and stay smart. You’ll get this guy.”

  She cursed beneath her breath and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Tall Victorian houses lined the main street, some renovated to hold local businesses, others still maintaining families to grow. A haze of colorful flowers, bright paints, and lush green trees.

  “He’s putting you as the lead on this case, Charlie. Given you sole responsibility for what’s going on. No overhead, no hovering. I’m to go over this with you now and will pass it off to you formally to lead. It’s your case to do as you see fit. I suggest you pull in Gonzalez to assist as needed. I’ll be around, but the chief has me on a big embezzlement case down at the bank. I’ll be working down with their investigators for a few weeks or so. If you need to talk through something, you’ll know how to find me. But I doubt you’ll need it. You’re ready for this.”

  She pulled up to the station house and felt the car shift as Peter hauled his bulk from the vehicle and shut the door behind him without another word. Only after he cleared her peripheral vision did she pull away. She needed space to think over the full scope of this situation. The new cases would have to be reviewed and the evidence scoured. When you took in account the five B&Es in the past few weeks and all the peeping Tom cases, the enormity of what she was responsible for was huge.

  At the bottom of the hill, she pulled into an empty lot and slammed the car into park. Before her, the water of the Hudson glimmered. The sun’s rays reflected across the surface as if diamonds glazed over the water. It looked beautiful, but knowing New York City lay just thirty minutes south, dangers lurked beneath the artistic façade. The distance between her town and the City apparently hadn’t kept the peace.

  She reached back and tugged her curls from the ponytail holder. Her hair felt too tight against her scalp, and the pressure of the case combined into a low throb of pain behind her temples. Going home and getting some shuteye should be her next move, but she didn’t feel like closing herself inside her dad’s house. Well, technically, since he left it to her in his death, it was her house, but she still had a hard time—even after all these years, considering the place hers.

  And she would be. Alone, that is. With Dwayne working night shift, her house would feel empty, resolute, too quiet. Hell, maybe she’d get lucky and the B&E guy would come clean out her underwear drawer. Seriously, Charlie? You’re going there? Ugh, like her underwear was anything other than plain cotton, both in black and in white. She maybe had a few sexy things that she pulled out for a big date. But surely no one would want something so…boring.

  The story of her damn life. Wake up, go for a run, work her shift, go home, eat dinner, and sleep. The story seemed to repeat day after day, until this new case. A new turn in her life. She felt out of sorts, as if she was spinning on a carousel, unable to get off. If she made one misstep, one wrong move, the entire department would find out and she’d be the laughing stock of the unit. Never mind the fact that being the only female grated on a few minds. Charlie still caught slack from a few of the male patrolmen who had tried for the job. She hated how it looked, with her being close to Uncle Ben, with the town being so small that everyone knew their history. She despised it even more that people gossiped about why she got the position, being as close as family to the chief.

  She’d worked hard to get here, damn it! The words and the rumors shouldn’t bother her. She had worked her ass off to be where she was, for crying out loud. But they did. And she didn’t like how much she cared or how they made her feel.

  The taxing thoughts caused a low throb to pierce her skull and she groaned and pushed on her forehead. She was past the point of no return when it came to this headache. In about fifteen minutes, it would be a full-blown migraine and she’d be up the creek without a paddle, as they said, in terms of getting home.

  Charlie started her cruiser, backed out of the parking lot, and headed home. A few hours of sleep, a nice meal, and a warm shower was what she needed to revive her, and get her mind on task with what she needed to do to catch this guy.

  The drive home took all of four minutes. Nestled just off the shore of the Hudson River, her house used to belong to her parents, an original 1960 rancher that had been renovated a few years later into a two-story colonial. The master bed and bath took the entire second floor, and it was an area of the house she still didn’t inhabit.

  Her parents had shared that level and after all these years since their death, she couldn’t bring herself to take over their room and move their memory out of the house.

  Was it healthy that even close to twenty years later she couldn’t move on?

  Maybe not, but she had her reasons for not letting go, and when she thought the time was right, she’d do it on her own terms.

  Stepping inside her house, she looked around and again thought about the possibility that maybe she just needed to sell this place. There was entirely too much space for her, and yeah, even with Dwayne staying here for the past few months while his place was being built, it was much too big. A family needed to be here. With two point five kids. And a dog.

  Meow?

  Or a cat. She bent to scratch Killer on his head and looked around for Cereal, the two tabby cats she’d taken pity on a few years back after finding them in a box behind the Post Office. Hurricane Irene had worked her way up the coast and someone had just left these two kittens out in the rain, with a big ole’ Good Luck, maybe you’ll survive! They’d been shivering and huddled close to one another for warmth. She had never been a cat person, but one look at those two little fuzz balls and her heart had gone all aweeeeeeee.

  So she’d put them in her cruiser, taken them home. Two spiked collars, lots of cat food, and several years later, and she had two of the laziest cats she’d ever seen.

  Cereal walked past her with a dismissive flick of his tail, making headway for, yup, his food bowl, casting a look back as if to say feed me.

  She chuckled, tossed her keys in a dish by the wall and stepped through to the kitchen and great room.

  “Honey, I’m home,” she sang, spotting Dwayne at the stove. He was dressed for work, looking handsome as hell, and ready for a night of crime.

  And here was another one she’d semi-adopted in her life, with his background and his family. Dwayne’s father was the local judge, one on the verge of retiring soon, and also the father to six sexy-as-hell, ornery-as-ever boys. All of which were adopted. Separate mothers, at different times, the Gonzalez family grew one by one until they stopped at six and filled their home—and the new lives living in it—with happy memories and smiles.

  Dwayne was the second boy to be brought into that family, and he’d come a long way from the angry teenager she once knew him to be. He had a history and issues like everyone else, and she’d done the only thing she knew how when she learned of his background. She’d become his friend and hadn’t left his side since.

  He glanced over at her and smiled. “Hey, you hungry? I’ve got some stir fry just about ready.”

  “Oh, classy, and yes, I’m starving. Forgot about lunch today.”

  Despite working in the same bureau, the department didn’t really have the manpower, or the crime, to support pairing the detectives with partners. So a lot of them worked on their own, unless they needed the backup, or a second opinion. Dwayne and her often paired together, not just because of their friendship, but because they complimented each other’s thoughts. One caught what the other might miss in an investigation.

  He wore dark navy-blue pants and a silver silk shirt rolled up to his elbows. Impeccably dressed as always, his fashion didn’t drive his good looks, but merely highlighted them. The silver of his shirt made his green eyes blaze, a color that when combined with his darker skin stood out and hypnotized you all at once.

  Had she been attracted to pretty boys and their wicked way w
ith words, she might have given her and Dwayne a shot. But a clumsy kiss at fourteen had sealed the deal for them both. No sparks, no heat, nothing but a large amount of sibling love.

  And the rest, as they say, is history.

  “You didn’t each lunch again?” He shook his head. “Third time this week, Charlie. That isn’t good for you.”

  She slid onto a stool at the counter. “Doesn’t feel very good, either. My stomach is screaming for food, so feed me.” She chuckled and pretended a pout. “Please.”

  He flashed a smile and scooped out a portion for them each, then slid her plate across the counter while he stood on the other side and dug in. She followed his lead and took a bite. Different flavors, chives, garlic, chili pepper, and salt exploded on her tongue and she couldn’t contain her groan of appreciation. She should be embarrassed with how fast she was shoveling food into her mouth, but Dwayne had seen her at her worst, and really, this couldn’t be that bad. I mean, if he had a problem with how she ate, then he would say something. Right?

  “Good?” he asked, with not so subtle humor lacing his tone.

  She glanced up between bites, but not for much longer than a second, maybe two. “If being a detective doesn’t work out for you, then you should seriously consider being a chef. This is fantastic.”

  He scoffed. “I think you’re just hungry. Like, really, really hungry,” he said, his voice shaking with laughter.

  She mocked a glare at him and slowed her bites to where she could actually breathe in between. A glass of water was set in front of her and she took a quick gulp.

  Fink, her favorite band, played on the speakers overhead, yet another plus of having Dwayne around. He finally helped her hardwire surround-sound into the dining and great rooms. The only sound between them was forks clinking on the plates, glasses hitting the granite top softly. Near silence. Comfortable. Peaceful. Nothing like the inner turmoil of the case she felt earlier. She looked up at Dwayne.

  “So, Chief put me on this new case,” she said.