“You got all the pictures of the body and the crime scene, right?”
The young man nodded wordlessly. Doug pulled on the gloves as Tom came in with the victim’s purse in his hands.
“Victim’s name is Brittany Diamond. She’s twenty-five and has a Nebraska driver’s license.” Tom made a tsking sound. “Looks like another set of big city dreams have been snuffed out. Whatcha got, kid?”
“I’m not sure.” Her left arm was draped over her abdomen, but it was the dark mark on her hand that captured his attention. Doug carefully lifted her pale hand and turned it, so that both he and Tom could see. Doug’s jaw clenched as he looked at the familiar stamp. The lettering and the gothic design that encircled it was smudged but still readable, and right there, as plain as day, it said The Coven.
“Son of a bitch,” Tom breathed.
“It’s the same nightclub stamp that Ronald Davis had on his hand.” He looked closer at it and then at Tom. “This one is black, but Ronald’s was green.”
“They use a different stamp each night, don’t they?” Tom jotted down the information into his notebook.
“Yeah.” Doug released her hand gently. “I guess we’re heading back to The Coven.”
“Looks like you’ve got an excuse to see that sexy redhead again.” Tom’s gravelly voice echoed through the space. “This makes two patrons that have turned up dead in just over twenty-four hours, and it looks like they were done by the same sicko. Both hacked up with very little blood at the scene.”
“Doesn’t make her a suspect, Tom,” Doug said more defensively than he intended. “All we know is that both were at her club the night they died.”
He stood and stripped the gloves from his hands, unable to look at his partner. He could feel Tom’s gaze on him. Doug handed the gloves to the pasty-faced kid and headed out of the bathroom. If he didn’t get some fresh air soon, he was going to blow.
“No,” Tom said slowly, as he followed him into the darkness. “But it does mean that we need to pay another visit to the club and interview more of the patrons.”
“Absolutely.” Doug sucked in the warm evening air and ran a hand over his face. He glanced around and noted that the area around the construction site wasn’t well lit and had been fenced off, but obviously hadn’t stopped those kids from trying to hang out here. Hands on his hips, he turned to face his partner. “We’ve got two dead kids who hung out at the same club the night they were killed, which makes that nightclub our best lead.”
He started toward the car with Tom by his side and silence lingering.
“The club is connected, and that’s why we’re going back.” He snagged his keys from his pocket. “I’m not going there because of Olivia.”
“Oh,” Tom sang as he tugged the passenger side door open. “So, it’s Olivia now, is it?”
“Just get in the fuckin’ car,” Doug said with the hint of a smile. “The club is probably getting going right about now but shouldn’t be too crowded. Places like that don’t usually fill up until well after ten.”
“Whatever you say, kid.”
Doug started the car and pulled the blue sedan into the street with only one thought on his mind—seeing Olivia again. He wove his way through the heavy city traffic with the ease of experience, and tension settled in his neck as the club came into view.
He double-parked their car right in front of The Coven, and it took about three seconds for the bouncer to spot them. Doug was surprised to see there was already a line of people waiting behind a velvet rope. The line was two or three across and at least thirty deep. All of them were dressed in what one would expect to see at a club called The Coven. Lots of tattoos, chains, black leather, and eye makeup on both men and women.
“Ms. Hollingsworth has quite a popular spot,” Doug said to the bouncer as he stepped onto the sidewalk. “It’s barely nine o’clock, and you’ve already got a solid line.”
“What can I do for you officers?” His deep baritone was barely audible above the noise on the street and the pulsing beat that thundered through the door. He shifted his stance so that his back was to the line of impatient customers, clearly wanting to minimize how much they heard.
“It’s Damien, isn’t it?” Doug asked as he surveyed the enormous man, who nodded silently. “My partner and I have a few more questions for Ms. Hollingsworth, and we’d like to interview the rest of the staff as well.”
Damien tapped his clipboard as he looked from Doug to Tom, and just when Doug thought he would need to lean on him, he simply nodded and waved them in.
“I’ll let her know that you’d like to speak with her.” He snagged the phone from his pocket and texted something, probably to Olivia.
“Question for you,” Doug asked with a nod. “Can we see the stamp you’re using tonight?”
“Sure.” Damien reached into his jacket and pulled out a small red stamp. He pressed it onto the paper on his clipboard. It was the same design as the one Ronald and Brittany had, just a different color. “Tonight’s clubbing is brought to you by the color red.” He grinned and looked at Doug. “Blood red.”
“Right.” Doug gave a sidelong look to Tom. “What color did you use last night? Black?”
“Yup.” He stuck the stamp back in his pocket. “Why?”
Doug nodded toward the line and then looked back to Damien. “I’m assuming you’ll be here for a while. There are a few questions we’d like to ask you, but I’ll come by after I have a chance to speak to Olivia.”
“I’ll be here.” Damien’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded curtly. “No problem.”
When Doug yanked open the heavy wooden door, his senses were immediately assaulted by the deafening music. He and Tom stuck out like sore thumbs; they may as well have worn their uniforms into the place. They were also probably the only guys without makeup on. The strobe light pulsed with the gritty beat of the music, and colors flashed over the dancing mob, making it look like one massive, pulsing creature.
The high arched ceilings reminded him of many old churches he’d been in, complete with gorgeous art deco stained glass. Doug surveyed the surprisingly small space and estimated there were two hundred people, and he bet the capacity was around that number, thus the line outside.
To the left was a long bar crammed with people angling to get their drinks and waving money at the bartenders. Maya, the blond they had interviewed the night before, and a pink-haired broad he had not yet met, were serving drinks. The back wall had massive white star, lit by a black light. The thing took up almost the entire wall, and sitting on top of what had probably been the church’s altar, was the DJ’s spinning station with a woman at the helm.
A little blond waitress who looked like she belonged on a farm was hustling from the bar to red leather VIP booths on the far right side of the place. There were a few tables scattered around the outskirts of the dance floor, but that was the limit of the seating.
They cut through the swarm of people, and when they got to the end of the bar, Maya was standing there, waiting with a big smile and her eyes fixed on Tom. Doug glanced at his partner. As he suspected, Tom was staring right back at the petite bartender.
“Well, hello, officers,” she said. Maya threw her long blond hair over her shoulders and leaned on the bar with both elbows, which accentuated her cleavage. “What brings you back to our little corner of the world?”
Before Doug could answer, a familiar voice floated over him.
“I was going to ask the same question.”
Olivia.
Doug turned to his left and looked into a pair of serious green eyes. Wearing a suit almost identical to the one from last night, she had a powerful, regal air. Her ivory skin glowed amid the flashing lights and gave her an ethereal look. Her gaze searched his and softened before Tom spoke up.
“Looks like you rendered him speechless again,” Tom barked.
“We need to ask you about another patron,” Doug said evenly, trying to ignore his partner. “A young woman was found murdered in Washington
Square Park earlier today, and she had your club’s stamp on her hand. It was the black stamp that Damien said you used last night.”
Olivia’s face remained blank, but he sensed something under the surface—a storm behind her eyes. He stuffed his hands in his pockets because he didn’t trust himself. He wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek just as he had in his dreams and kiss her full, rose-colored lips forever.
“We can talk in my office.” She nodded toward to the back and brushed past him. “It’s quieter there, and we’ll have privacy. As you can imagine, I’d like to keep my customers out of this, if possible.”
Doug spun on his heels with Tom close behind. She stood waiting for him a few feet ahead, but once she saw him following, she continued toward the back of the club. As she wove her way effortlessly through the sea of bodies and slipped in and out of his view, he imagined for a moment that he wasn’t a cop, but simply a man following a beautiful woman through a club. Stalking her, and eventually claiming her, in the time-honored tradition of boy chasing girl.
She stood waiting at the other end of the bar, chatting with the pink-haired waitress. Doug watched the interaction and got the sense that their relationship was more than employer and employee. In fact, all of the people who worked here had a familial way in how they dealt with one another.
Doug sidled up next to Olivia as he and Tom stood by the end of the bar while she spoke with the punk-rock-looking bartender.
“These are the detectives I was telling you about,” Olivia said with a nod in their direction. “I’m sure they’ll have questions for you, Suzie, and Sadie. I want you to give them your full cooperation.” Olivia flicked her attention to Doug. “Gentlemen, this is Trixie. She’s not only my best bartender, but my friend, and she’ll answer any questions you have. She works every night and may have seen something that could be of use to your investigation.”
“What’s up?” Trixie shouted and leaned on the bar. Her dark eyes, lined with heavy makeup, looked them up and down. “I’d be happy to talk to you guys, but the stink from the overflowing garbage can back here is making me wanna puke.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Olivia said in a huff as she lifted the hinged section of the bar and stuck her hand out. “Give it to me. I’ll take it out.”
“I knew it.” Trixie laughed, tied off the overstuffed bag, and yanked it out of the can. “No one hates a messy bar more than Olivia,” she said as she handed it to her boss.
“Let me take that.” Doug grabbed it, and his eyes met hers, but she didn’t let go.
“You’re going to take the garbage out for me, detective?” she asked incredulously.
“Call me old school, but taking out the garbage is a man’s job.”
Her challenging gaze didn’t falter. “I assure you that I’m quite capable of handling this myself, and in case you haven’t noticed… I’m a woman.”
“I noticed,” Doug murmured.
For a moment, neither moved. Her green eyes glittered, and just when he was going to relent and let her take the damn garbage out herself, she let go of the bag.
“Fine.” She spun around. “Follow me.”
“Be right back, Tom.” Doug said without looking back.
Doug didn’t hear Tom’s response, or anything else for that matter. All he could hear was the thundering beat of his own heart. It was ridiculous to insist on taking out her garbage, at least by the standards of today’s society, but Doug was old-fashioned. He couldn’t stand there and watch the most beautiful, sophisticated, sexy woman he had ever laid eyes on carry a smelly bag of garbage into a crappy city alley.
He followed her down a narrow hallway to a black door with a red sign above it that said Emergency Exit. Olivia pushed it open and held it for Doug as he stepped through and tossed the bag into the banged-up green dumpster at the end of the alley. The sound of the door banging shut echoed through the dimly lit alley, and when Doug turned around, he found himself face to face with Olivia. Her distinctly spicy, feminine scent filled his head and heightened his desire.
“You’re quite the gentleman, detective,” she said quietly as her eyes locked with his. “Your mother raised you well. I should thank her.”
“Not really.” Doug’s jaw clenched, and his hands curled at his side. “She died when I was little. Don’t remember much about her.”
“I see,” Olivia said on a sigh. “Then I suppose I only have you to thank.”
As if reading his dirty mind, she leaned closer so that they were only a breath apart, and just as he was about to throw caution to the wind, she pulled back. She raised a finger to her lips and looked past him to the dumpster.
“Did you hear that?” She cocked her head and listened intently.
“I don’t—” She pressed one long finger to his mouth, silencing him, and making every inch of him harder than a rock.
“Quiet, or you’ll scare it,” she whispered.
Olivia dropped her hand from his lips and stepped around him. She made no sound as she moved across the pavement toward whatever it was that caught her attention. Doug watched her prowl toward the back wall, and as she squatted by the back of the giant steel structure, his fingers wound around the butt of his gun. He took two steps closer as she reached behind the dumpster, whispering soothing sounds the way one would to a baby.
A minute later, Olivia stood with a grin on her face and a dirty white and black kitten mewling in her arms. She whispered into the ear of the pathetic-looking creature, and she turned those large, soulful eyes to Doug. As she peered over the quivering ears of the orphan, his heart squeezed in his chest. He didn’t think she could get more beautiful, but he was dead fucking wrong, and he wished like hell he could trade places with that cat.
“I don’t think she’s hurt,” Olivia said.
She held it up and inspected it top to bottom as she walked past Doug to the door of the club. Olivia tugged the door open with one hand, cradled her charge against her chest with the other, and looked at Doug, who had not moved.
“I’m sorry.” Her face fell, and she spoke quickly. “You’re trying to run an investigation into a murder, and you’re wasting time with me throwing out garbage and rescuing stray cats. Please, come in my office while I clean her up, and I’ll answer any questions you have.”
Doug didn’t move but kept his eyes locked with hers as she continued to stroke the now quiet kitten’s head. This woman was an enigma. A total mystery. One minute she was a tough-as-nails businesswoman fighting for the right to take out her own garbage, and the next she was a complete sucker for a stray kitten.
“No problem.” He ran a hand over his hair and shook his head as he walked toward her. “I have no shortage of questions.”
They reached the door marked: Authorized Personnel Only, and she went directly inside with her attention focused on the cat. Doug followed her and closed the door behind him, but to his surprise he turned to find an enormous German shepherd standing in front of Olivia, guarding her.
The dog snarled, while the black and brown fur on his hackles prickled in warning, but Doug stood calmly staring the dog down. He learned a long time ago that if you showed fear, you were a dead man, and that was true whether you were facing man or beast.
“Van!” Olivia snapped her fingers, and the dog whined before sitting reluctantly at her feet. “No.”
The dog growled at Doug before he turned his attention to the tiny kitten in Olivia’s arms. He sniffed it and whined, his curiosity clearly getting the better of him.
“You’ll meet her in a minute. Go to bed.” She pointed to what was obviously the dog’s bed in the far corner, and he obediently trotted to it but shot Doug a look of contempt over his shoulder as he settled.
Van and Doug looked back to Olivia and the cat. She had gotten an old towel from a drawer in her desk and promptly cleaned the kitten off, which was met with a series of mewling protests. Doug watched her intently and so did the dog. Then to Doug’s great surprise, Olivia wrapped the kitten in the
towel and placed it on the bed next to the enormous German shepherd.
“You were homeless once too,” she said to the dog as she scratched him behind his ears. “Remember? Well, she was in a stinky old alley, which makes the pound you were in look like the Ritz Carlton. So be nice. Oreo is part of the family now.”
Doug held his breath, certain that the dog was going to gobble the cat in one big bite. However, as Olivia stroked the kitten’s head, the dog sniffed it and began to lick it and clean it as if it were a puppy.
“Oreo, huh?” Doug raised his eyebrows. “That’s a ballsy move, naming it after a cookie and then putting it in front of that big brute.”
“Van is probably more of a pussycat than the pussycat.” Olivia sat in the leather chair behind her desk and folded her hands in her lap, as if she were the one interviewing him, keeping one eye on the unusual duo. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“A concept I’m familiar with,” Doug said evenly.
“Sorry.” She straightened her jacket and brushed cat hair off it. When her eyes locked with his, he noticed her body visibly tense. “I guess I’m a sucker for strays and hard-luck cases. I seem to have a talent for rescuing the needy. Now, what did you want to ask me, detective?”
Doug cocked his head, moved closer to the desk, and didn’t take his eyes off hers. He studied her carefully and could tell that he had her on edge, but what he didn’t know was if it was because of the case, the stray cat, or him.
“We had another murder victim turn up.” He watched for her reaction, but her face remained calm. “She had the stamp from your club on her hand, just like Ronald Davis.”
Doug pulled the picture from his notebook and held it out to Olivia. Olivia tried to maintain that serene facade, but he didn’t miss the tiniest widening of her eyes when skin met skin. She cleared her throat, tore her gaze from his, and turned her attention to the photo.
“She’s dead?” Olivia asked tightly as she looked at the girl’s graduation portrait. They pulled it from her high school website because Doug was not a fan of bringing morgue photos on civilian interviews. The smiling face full of hope was a far cry from what he had seen earlier today. She turned her stormy eyes back to his. “You think that whoever killed Ronald also killed this girl, don’t you?”
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