by Lorie O
It was people like these, just like Megan and the girls, whom he’d vowed to protect with his life. For those reasons, and especially after the death of David, leaving his sister alone with four children to raise, Perry always believed he would never settle down with a woman. His job required taking risks, stepping into the line of fire and protecting citizens of his town so they could go about their lives without interruption.
So what changed? Perry neared Franco’s house, checking out the neat yard and the dark windows, then glanced up and down the street. Not so much as a dog announced Perry’s presence. It was almost too quiet. Which left his thoughts to torture him as he neared the garage.
What was it about Kylie that made him want to risk hurting another person? Let alone take the chance of getting hurt if he turned his heart over to her. In all his years, he’d managed to keep any relationship he’d entered into with a woman casual, consensual, good sex, and that was it.
The sex with Kylie definitely qualified as better than good. Hell, it was damn near the best sex he’d ever had in his life. Was that the reason he wanted to push their relationship to the next level?
Perry reached the side of the garage and stood there, leaning against cool brick, and didn’t move, letting the peaceful night sink into his pores and listening for any sound of intrusion. He didn’t hear anything other than crickets. Relaxing against the wall, he studied the side door to the garage that opened to a cobblestone path, which led around to the back of the garage and backyard.
Kylie was more than any other woman he’d met before. Maybe it was because her line of work was so similar to his. She would leave town once this case was solved. There wasn’t any changing that. He would never ask her to quit what she did for a living any more than he would tolerate being asked to give up being a cop. Kylie was gorgeous to a distraction, sexy as hell, but smart as a tack, too.
Even when he thought of how she challenged him, didn’t listen very well when he told her what to do, those traits in her didn’t turn him off. Perry shook his head, afraid he might be a goner where she was concerned, and stepped toward the side garage door. Franco would have an alarm system installed. He was a cop. It was in their nature to protect what was theirs. But as Perry studied the structure of the garage, let his gaze travel along the roof and guttering system, he didn’t see any sign of an alarm installed. Not that many alarm systems were visible from the outside. Few were as elaborate as what Kylie had installed at her house. Perry moved in front of the door, putting his hand on the doorknob, and stared into the glass pane, seeing his reflection stare back at him.
Something creaked around the back side of the garage and the crickets grew silent. Perry froze, knowing he was working off duty and getting caught in this compromising position would be his ass. Looking around quickly, he didn’t see as much as a bush or decent-sized tree to hide behind. He looked down the length of the cobblestone path, his eyes burning from not blinking as he fought to see better in the dark.
His heart pounded so damn loud he wasn’t sure he would hear another sound if there was one. Taking in a slow, silent breath, he willed his heart to quit thumping in his chest and cleared his mind, forcing thoughts of Kylie out of his head so he could cover his own ass. There wasn’t backup on this assignment.
When a cricket sounded, Perry damn near jumped out of his skin, and managed a smile as other crickets joined in and returned to their middle-of-the-night symphony. Whatever made the sound out back wasn’t a threat to them. But, Perry pointed out to himself, he stood here and that didn’t bother the bugs, either.
Perry didn’t doubt for a moment he could take Franco on if confronted. Granted the man could press charges since Perry was on his property, but if he used every ounce of his training, he wouldn’t be discovered. Nonetheless, it was best to check out his surroundings before returning to the task at hand. Testing the cobblestone path, he put one booted foot down on it and proceeded slowly, silently, pressing his palm against the cool, moist brick wall as he walked to the back of the garage. If there was someone there, the element of surprise would be in Perry’s favor. He’d never been one to run from a fight, but he knew he could outrun Franco.
Perry gripped the corner of the garage, wrapping his fingers around the rough edge, and took that final step. Bushes lined the back of the garage, neatly trimmed and creating a border between the cobblestone path and backyard.
Perry didn’t breathe. He didn’t move. Standing, listening to the crickets, he still swore he heard something else. Anyone wandering around in the yard after midnight wouldn’t be up to any good. Not that he was, either. But at least his cause was justified. He wanted sound confirmation the black Suburban in the garage was the same one he and Kylie had spotted every time Peter came around. Fake tags or not, if they matched the tags on file for Peter, then Franco was their man.
Perry would take Franco out, limb by limb, if the bastard was stalking Mission Hills, torturing, raping, and murdering teenage girls. His blood boiled just thinking about it.
Standing against the garage, Perry glanced behind him toward the street. It was so dark where he stood, he barely saw to the end of the driveway. Beyond that was a black abyss, quiet and serene. Too damn quiet. He focused on the bushes in front of him, which stood about as tall as he did. The branches moving would give him away. But Perry wouldn’t chance entering the garage and taking a picture of the license plate until he knew the area was secure.
The last thing he needed right now was to run into a cat burglar trying to break into one of these houses while Perry was snooping around, off the clock. He didn’t want to have to decide whether he would run a common crook down or let him be the ultimate distraction so Perry could fight for a higher cause. Stealing physical possessions didn’t rank as high of a crime in his book as taking lives, let alone young ones.
He heard something again. So did the crickets. Silence fell over the yard as if the black velvet blanket draping across the sky fell to the earth, enveloping all around it with an eerie quiet that sent chills rushing up his spine. Someone was in the yard. Perry was sure of it now.
The best thing to do at this point was become invisible. Mentally calculating the space between the tall bushes and the back of the garage, Perry pushed himself into the narrow space, enduring scratches on his arm and face while struggling not to move any more branches than necessary.
That’s when he saw her. At least he guessed it was a woman. A person had raised one of the upstairs windows in Franco’s house and was climbing out. The dang fool would break her fucking neck. And if she turned in Perry’s direction, she would spot him hiding behind the bushes from her elevated vantage point. Fortunately for both of them, she was intent on her mission and not paying attention to bushes or trees in the yard.
Perry watched, somewhat amazed, as the person shimmied down a drainpipe and jumped the last four or five feet to the ground. She rolled over the grass, then came to her hands and knees, frozen for a moment until the crickets started singing again. Then she sprinted to the edge of the yard and jumped the four-foot fence, disappearing in the yard behind Franco’s. In the next minute she was gone, leaving Perry and the crickets alone in the yard.
What the fuck had he just seen?
Perry stared at the spot where the girl had vanished, positive she was female now by how she ran and the shape of her body when she climbed the fence. Returning his attention to the window on the second floor, he stared at the open window, watching a curtain move in the breeze. Someone had just fled from the house. From what Perry knew, Franco wasn’t married and didn’t have any kids. Perry wouldn’t swear to it, but from what he could make out in the dark, and the shape and movements of the person who had just darted through the yard, he would guess she was young, possibly a teenager.
His blood pressure skyrocketed as his imagination fueled the images that popped into his head as to possible reasons why the girl would take off running. He returned his attention to the spot at the fence where she’d jumped fr
ee and disappeared. Should he go after her?
No one appeared to be following her. The way she boogied across the yard and over the fence, he doubted she was hurt, at least not seriously enough to slow her process. She disappeared quickly. Perry weighed his options and turned toward the side garage door. He would inspect the Suburban. If he found anything suspicious around it, he would seek out a warrant. Possibly inspecting the inside of Franco’s home was in order, too.
Once again Perry put his hand on the doorknob to the side door of the garage. He stared at his reflection in the clear, dark glass but didn’t focus on it for long. This time, pushing his face up to the glass, he shaded it with his hand and stared inside the garage.
There was no vehicle in the garage. It was empty.
Too much time had passed to chase down the girl. Nonetheless, Perry drove around the neighborhood after returning to his Jeep, searching yards and looking for any sign of anyone. There wasn’t as much as a single soul walking along the sidewalks.
The clock on his dash told him it was almost one o’clock in the morning. He turned at the next intersection, realizing he headed toward Kylie’s home instead of his own. His cell phone rang and he jumped, grateful it hadn’t rung while he’d been alongside the garage. He’d forgotten to put it on vibrate.
“This is Flynn,” he said, his voice sounding scratchy when he answered the call from Dispatch. He was off duty and it was the middle of the night; there couldn’t be anything good coming from this phone call.
“Flynn, Lieutenant Goddard asked me to call you.” Cliff Miller, the dispatcher, spoke quickly and sounded out of breath, which he often did when he was upset. The guy never moved out of his chair at the station, but when an urgent matter came through the man would sound as if he’d just run a mile. “They found another teenager over on Antioch, near the mall.”
“Fucking hell,” Perry growled, understanding now why the Suburban wasn’t in the garage. Peter had been busy. “What is the exact location?”
Miller gave him the address. “Flynn, there is a situation, which is why Goddard wanted me to contact you personally.”
“What’s that?”
“He asked you to get there ASAP. He said it’s personal.”
Perry didn’t have a hard time finding the crime scene. After he turned onto Antioch, flashing lights from several police cars and an ambulance grabbed his attention. He pulled up and parked not too far from the crime scene tape and hopped out of his car. No one said anything when he climbed over the tape and walked over to Pete Goddard.
“What do we have here?” he asked Goddard, a decent cop who’d been on the force about as long as Perry had been.
Pete Goddard was fair complected, with strawberry blonde hair that was closely shaved to his head. He was tall and lanky and his uniform always looked as though it was half a size too big.
“It’s pretty ugly.” Goddard shifted his attention to a body, which lay crumpled up against the side of the building. “She had ID on her.”
“Oh, yeah?” Perry walked up to the girl, who didn’t look a day older than Dani, and stared at her half-nude and bloody body. “Who reported her?”
“Anonymous nine-one-one call.” Goddard moved in next to Perry, holding a clipboard and staring grimly at the dead girl. “We’ve cataloged all the personals found on her, which were basically a purse, a wallet with seventeen dollars on her, and makeup, along with a cell phone.”
“She wasn’t robbed.” Perry followed Goddard over to the back of Goddard’s squad car where Baggies were spread out in an open briefcase, already tagged and numbered and ready to be taken to the station. “What was her name?”
“Elaine Swanson.” Goddard sifted through the evidence Baggies and picked one of them out, then held it at eye level. “This letter indicates she went by ‘Lanie.’ ”
Perry glanced past the hood at the crumpled body, another teenager robbed of life before given the opportunity to really start living.
“And look at this-grades.” Goddard sounded disgusted, but it wasn’t from the report card he held up in another bag. Elaine, or Lanie, made all A’s and B’s. “She was a sophomore. My son is a junior, still a virgin, hasn’t been out on a real date yet. That girl was a child. To kill someone like her.”
His tone registered the anger radiating from him. Perry looked at Goddard, whose reddened complexion made his strawberry blonde crew cut stand out and look more white than light red. His light green eyes darkened as he met Perry’s gaze.
“This whole thing turns my stomach.”
“It’s fucking sick as hell,” Perry agreed.
After glancing at the case filled with evidence bags, Perry walked around the patrol car, leaving Goddard to talk to his partner. Perry noted Goddard didn’t have blue eyes, not that he would have guessed the cop was Peter. Goddard was a churchgoing man, with a good-sized family and a sweet little wife who adored him. Criminals came in all shapes and sizes, though. Perry knew from many years on the force that attending church every Sunday didn’t mean a man wasn’t capable of murder.
“You got an extra pair of gloves?” Perry asked the officer squatting next to the body.
She glanced at Perry and then straightened, interest or at the least acknowledgment that she liked what she saw registering on her pretty face. “Sure. I know you, don’t I?” she asked, standing and making a show of smoothing her uniform before walking over to the forensics kit sitting on the asphalt not too far away.
Perry noticed how she bent over, took her time pulling out a spare pair of latex gloves, and how she straightened. She had a nice ass, narrow waist, and mousy brown hair cut short in a pageboy. Although she wasn’t his type with her tomboy figure, small breasts, and petite frame, another time Perry would take time to talk to her. He wasn’t sure he’d seen her before, but she wasn’t ugly and Perry never discriminated against a lady just because she didn’t meet his definition of a perfect 10.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, accepting the gloves and donning them, then turning back to the body.
“Gracie Pierre,” she offered, making a show of offering her hand to shake but then laughing and pulling back her gloved hand, which was soiled with blood.
Something about the fact that she could make jokes and be so carefree and flirtatious while the two of them squatted over a mutilated, murdered teenage girl’s body didn’t sit right with him.
“Nice to meet you, Gracie,” he said, but then turned his attention to the body. “Any speculation on the cause of death?”
“Oh,” she said, squatting next to him, her leg brushing against his as she leaned forward and lifted the girl’s arm, which had been over her face. “I just gather any evidence off the body. I’m not a doctor and I don’t play one on TV.” Again laughing easily, obviously finding herself very amusing.
“Regardless of your role in this crime scene, you’ll learn what evidence to gather if you focus on the whole picture,” he snapped, wondering how long she’d been on the force. “The evidence you seek out would be different if someone was attacked by a dog than if they were brutalized and murdered.”
He didn’t bother checking out her reaction to his biting her head off. But the silence that grew between them told him she probably thought him a little less attractive than she had a few minutes before.
“I might just be a rookie,” she finally said, sounding more hurt than mad. “But I looked at the big picture well enough to suggest to Goddard he contact you after tagging the picture that was rolled up in her hand.”
Perry did look at Gracie then. She frowned at the dead teenager, her lips pressed into a thin line. He would guess Gracie was in her early twenties, younger than Kylie, and not as well built. It wasn’t just that her breasts were smaller; everything about her was smaller. Possibly that made her look younger. If anything, he thought, returning his glance to Lanie Swanson and reaching with his gloved hand and attempting to cover her exposed breasts with her torn and dirty shirt, Gracie didn’t look much older
than their victim.
“What was rolled up in her hand?” Perry asked. “And which hand?”
“Why does it matter which hand?”
He didn’t take the question as sarcastic, even if that was how she meant it. “I don’t know if it matters or not. Was her other hand always here?” he asked, sticking his index finger into her curled fingers resting at her side.
“Yes, and her right hand was above her head, her forearm resting over her face. I’m sure it was just the position she was in when she finally gave up on life.”
“Or how she stopped moving after being tossed out of a car.”
“Tossed out of a car?” Gracie asked, standing when the medics walked over to them with a gurney.
“Why would she die up alongside a building like this?” Perry stood as well, facing Gracie and watching her chew her lower lip and study his face. It was as if he could see her brain churning, struggling to come up with a believable answer that might impress him.
“Well, maybe she couldn’t walk very well from her injuries and started walking alongside the building, using it to hold her up.”
“Good.” Perry nodded. Maybe Gracie wasn’t as self-centered and cold to the line of work she was in as she first appeared. “If your theory is right, though, with the amount of blood covering her body, if she walked along the building there would be blood on the bricks. Have you checked?”
“No. Do you think I should?”
“Yup. If your theory is right, it would tell us which direction she came from. If there aren’t any blood trails on the wall, then my theory might be right.” He decided Gracie had a pretty smile, although he missed the glow that Kylie would get in her eyes when challenged.
“I’ll check,” Gracie said, as if she’d just decided she would do so. “If I’m right, though, you have to take me out for a drink,” she added, winking at him. She didn’t take his comments as instruction but almost as a game.