It's A Crime

by C. E. Hansen

  Cole smoked until he was dizzy. He both hated and loved cigarettes. Since moving here, Cole found it harder to make friends, feeling like an outsider. His family was originally from Ohio and moved to Philly when his father got a better job there six months ago. His parents rented a small house on the outskirts of Philly in a neighborhood that was good but on the verge of turning bad.

  The boys laughed and joked about their teachers and the girls they crushed on. Cole felt like he was just starting to fit in. His brother Tommy made friends a lot easier. It wasn’t as hard when you were eight, Cole thought. He was a little worried about staying out too late. He knew the ramifications if his father caught him. The belt, and his dad had a habit of getting up earlier for work than he needed to.

  “Hey, I got to go, guys,” Cole mumbled.

  “Ahh, come on dude,” Tim said.

  “Here,” Cole said as he tossed the remaining pack of cigarettes to Tim. “If my dad gets up before I’m back, my ass is grass.”

  “Hey, you got to do what you got to do,” Tim said. “Thanks for the butts, man.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Cole paused. “See you tomorrow, right?”

  “Shit yeah,” They all replied.

  In the distance, the sound of sirens grew closer, louder. The boys looked at each other and quickly grabbed their jackets, throwing their lit cigarettes on the ground, stomping them out. They ran outside at the same time, listening as the wailing got closer to Tim’s house.

  “What the fuck?” They looked at each other.

  “Sounds close.” Walking slowly to the road, they stopped.

  “Cops?”

  “No way, man, fire trucks.” Who said what was no longer significant.

  The boys rushed out to the middle of the street. The strobe of the red and white lights reflected off the houses and trees in the dark night nearby.

  They took off running toward the lights and sounds, their excitement building. Back in the garage the magazine lay with the pack of cigarettes on the floor, discarded. The boys ran toward the chaos that ensued just a few blocks away.

  They ran, trying to guess whose house was on fire, keeping their thoughts silent in their heads.

  The group turned the corner onto Roxborough Ave, and the flames reached up, licking the branches of the tall oaks. The location of the fire remained unknown to the group as they ran toward it. Cole ran faster. The fire was on his street. A sick feeling grew in his gut. The boys rounded the corner. Ron and Tim stopped so abruptly, the others collided with them. It was Cole’s house. The fire was eating Cole’s house.

  Cole ran, a scream forced its way from his gut to his throat, the sound heartrending. He was out of breath, his lungs hurting from the effort, but he ran until he reached his house and was abruptly stopped by a big burley fireman, who caught him around the waist and pulled him toward his large chest, immobilizing him.

  Tears, unwanted, streamed down his face. He tried to pry the vise-like grip from around his midsection. He kicked, he screamed, pulling at the arms until he saw other firemen running out with the bodies of his family slung over their shoulders like sacks of flour. Life switched into slow motion, people talking on a different plane, voices shattered, drifting up toward the trees. The firemen placed bodies on the ground, beginning CPR.

  He scanned from left to right, his mind blurred as if time passed in slow motion. Cole was caught in a nightmare that had no end. Scouring the yard he heard the glass popping from the heat, bursting out scattering crystal shards falling over the small yard. Cole’s attention was drawn immediately to two firemen forcibly exiting his home through a window.

  The two men carried out a small body and looked at one another, knowingly, eyes downcast. The fireman holding Cole turned his back to the tragedy unfolding in front of him, forcing Cole’s field of vision to follow his own. Cole was blocked from seeing what he should never see. Cole scrambled, cried out, clawed and wriggled to no avail. He caught a glimpse from the corner of his eyes. The fireman carried the lifeless body of a child, who could only be his younger brother. Blood soaked the cloth wrapped around the small lifeless frame.

  Cole screamed out “Tommy!” over and over.

  The body lay still smoking. No movement, nothing. He was dead. No one tried pumping his chest to get air into his small lungs. Cole wailed like the banshee of death reached in to take his beating heart, and the emptiness took over. His vision slowly darkened as the welcomed blackness overtook him.

  A tall lanky teen stood on the small incline three hundred feet behind the burning house, hiding behind a patch of bushes and small trees, watching the flames lick the sky. His malevolent smile never reaching his eyes, his gaze unwavering. He felt himself get hard; it pained him, the skin stretched tight. Steel, he thought. He was beyond excited. He was in control. He was God.

  Chapter 13

  “Where did you come...what…how did you? What did you say to him?” I demanded, shaken.

  Cole put the wine on the counter and came back to where I stood. He held me at arms’ length, looking intently at my face. He pulled me into his arms, resting his head on mine as he rubbed my back soothingly. “I told him it would be better for his health if he stayed away from you.”

  “Oh.” I was speechless, which for me was a first. I walked into the kitchen then back to the hallway and hung up the phone hanging by its cord.

  “If I were you, I would look before opening the door from now on, and it wouldn’t hurt to advise the doorman you were physically threatened today.”

  “He really wouldn’t have done anything. I don’t think...” I sounded unsure to my own ears. “He’s an asshole. I didn’t know it was him, I wouldn’t have opened the door.” I was rambling, pleading my case. Still trembling from the adrenaline that coursed through my body. “He’s a model, it’s how I met him. I modeled a long time ago, and he, um, he is well known in the fashion world. It’s how I met him. I attended a charity function featuring models and big named designers…I own a boutique that caters to, um, I met him...” I trailed off. I had been talking nonsensically without pause. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to keep rambling.”

  “Well, I could see why it would be difficult to let you go.” Cole walked over to the counter where he found the corkscrew and decanter I had left. He opened the bottle of wine he brought and expertly poured it into the decanter, turning to look at me standing in the middle of the kitchen watching him. I was totally unfocused; I was a mess.

  “That’s got to breathe for a while before we can drink it.” His voice snapped me out of my momentary trance. Looking around the room he walked over to my bar, picked up the 21-year scotch and poured two glasses. He shoved one glass into my hand, taking a sip of the other.

  “Go ahead. Drink that. It’ll steady your nerves.”

  I did as instructed and after my initial sip I paused, then with the gusto of a sailor I tilted the glass up and draining the remaining scotch, grimacing as I swallowed. I held out the glass for Cole to refill.

  What a lady I was.

  He placed his glass on the counter and poured me another drink, watching me closely, smiling at my attempt to calm myself.

  He watched as I drank that down in one gulp too.

  “Whoa, there, little lady, take it easy.” He smiled. “You’re going to make it too easy for me to have my way with you. Not that I mind, of course.”

  “There is nothing little about me,” I countered. Relaxing for the first time tonight I smiled, wickedly. “And...bring it on.”

  I gazed into his eyes and damn near forgot all about what happened with Jonathan. God, please tell me how anyone could think of anything, or anyone, with this man in the room, especially with him standing so close, it’s beyond me.

  The sensual curving of his lips as he smiled caused that pulling feeling to start in my core. The build-up of hunger, the sensual craving, the need. A flush spread from my chest to my neck. I didn’t want it to appear as though all I could think of was sex when he was near, but that was e
xactly what I did think about. Or could that be the scotch talking? Doubtful.

  It just figured the one man who could make me feel this way was the one who lived halfway across the country. He probably had no use for me after this two-day sexathon, and I was afraid I would not see him again after tonight.

  “Um…thank you for that” I nodded toward the entryway, indicating the scene that took place there several minutes ago. I blushed from anger. “I don’t get him. Why can’t he just leave me alone?”

  “Like I said, I can understand his not wanting to let you go,” Cole repeated, brushing the back of his hand softly against my cheek. I instantly got wet. I wanted more.

  “Umm, really…Do you want to let me go?”

  The words came out of my mouth before my brain could rein them back in. I instantly dropped my gaze from his and walked into the kitchen, busying myself with the preparation of our meal. I placed the steaks on the marble butcher block in an attempt to get them to room temperature and started making the shrimp cocktail. Afterward, I rubbed fresh garlic, rosemary and olive oil into the flesh of the steak.

  “Want a beer?” I asked trying to change the subject.

  I couldn’t believe I said what I said to him. What would asking him if he wanted to let me go accomplish? I’m sure I didn’t want an answer. I’m sure “I never wanted to let you go” was right on the tip of his tongue. What the hell was wrong with me? He should be running as fast as possible away from me, back to Colorado. I brought all kinds of shit to whatever relationship I was in. I was mortified at what came running out of my mouth, but determined to not let it ruin this evening. After all, he was leaving to go back to Colorado tomorrow and I wanted tonight to be perfect.

  Cole walked back into the kitchen. I pointed to the fridge.

  “They’re in there, the top shelf.” I turned back to the shrimp. “Frosty mugs on the door of the freezer.”

  I heard Cole open the door of the fridge followed shortly with the sound of pouring.

  “Grab me one, too. Thanks,” I turned around, making the cocktail sauce for the ginormous shrimp I got us from the fish market. He smiled holding up the two mugs.

  “Way ahead of you.” He walked over and gave me the beer he poured. I took a sip and set my mug down to wash my hands. He set his down and stood directly behind me. Putting his arms around my waist, he kissed the top of my head and began trailing kisses down my neck. I reluctantly let out a giggle.

  “I love when you make that sound,” he whispered against my skin, his breath hot. “It’s sexy.” Memories assailed me; my legs weakened. I got such a feeling of deja vu just then, chills ran up my spine.

  He moved his hands up my sides, then around to the front, cupping my breasts with his large hands, his fingers slowly torturing my nipples. He stopped briefly and I could tell he felt the rigidness of his “surprise.” His hands skimmed over the swollen flesh of my breasts spilling over the top of the corset I wore. His hardness pressed against the small of my back.

  He continued using his thumbs to tease my nipples. I wiped my hands on the dishtowel and turned to face him. I will never get tired of looking into his eyes. His thick black hair framed his beautiful face. My hands slid up to grab both sides of his head and pulled his lips to me, sealing his to mine. My tongue slowly savoring his, he licked me, making me long to have him inside me. I sucked on his tongue; his groan was the most erotic sound I’d ever hard, making the flesh between my legs tighten viciously.

  The passion in his kiss whisked the breath from my body. His tongue sliding deeper into my mouth made me tremble. As he bent me backward, the counter pushed against my lower back. His kiss became more arduous, more passionate.

  Heat radiated through his shirt from his muscular chest. The muscles moving beneath his skin and the agility in the way he moved sent a delicious sensuality flowing through me.

  “Let’s start this over, shall we?” Cole whispered in my ear. My reply was a perceptible moan. His breath tickled my senses. I found the single brain cell still working and tried sparking it.

  “Oh...I forgot,” I panted, out of breath; the headiness from being near him made me dizzy. My heart rate accelerated. I whispered playfully, my voice husky, “When I went shopping today I bought you a little surprise, from little me.”

  “Mmm, I felt something.” He stopped and smiled. “And there is nothing little about you.”

  He reached down and lifted me up like a child. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, clinging clung to him like a monkey. He carried me to my sectional sofa, his head buried in the curve between my head and neck, anxious to open the surprise waiting for him under my clothes. His breath felt hot on my skin, sending a shiver through me, tingling.

  I was so out of my element where he was concerned. I never meant to let anyone in, never wanted commitment, I was so afraid of being left alone again…but he threw out a rope and lassoed me in. I was always in control, but he was such a force of nature I couldn’t get enough of him.

  He lowered me to the floor when we reached the sofa. His head still nuzzled between my neck and shoulder he inhaled in my scent, deeply. His breathlessness sent a shiver through my body, starting at my ear, down to my throbbing midsection. I was on fire. I opened the button of my jeans, unzipped. I rocked my hips side-to-side and shimmied out, tossing them to the side with my leg.

  I lifted my top over my head, “unwrapping” his surprise. He sat on the couch, positioning me in front of him. He shook his head slowly, a look of childish eagerness lighting his face. I was overheating. My sex clenched for the feel of his cock, needing him to fill me. Everything tightened in my core, the tension building...wanting, needing to feel him.

  I’d covered my torso in a corset, a thin veil of pale blue-colored silk with elegant beading. Cheryl told me after I tried it on that the color brought out the stunning blue of my eyes. I loved how it made me feel, sexy, pretty, desirable.

  The material was slightly transparent, light enough to see the outline of my nipples forcibly contained within the garment. A wisp of the same material barely covered the soft mound between my legs.

  “You are stunning.” He murmured. “You are perfect in every way. And babe…I got to say, dressed like that”—his eyes widened with devilish delight—“you’re killing me.”

  I smiled inwardly, his words a turn on. My hands deftly unbuttoned his shirt. He stood and removed his pants. I was hungry for the taste of him. He slid his hands under the material, rubbing his fingers up and down the length of my cleft. I leaned down greedy for the taste of him. I covered his mouth searching for that connection I had come to crave. I pushed him back and took all I could. And he gave all he had.

  We ate the meal I prepared, which if I must say so myself was delicious. Cole said everything was perfect and he was extremely impressed by my cooking skills. I brought out the dessert I made, Italian Panna-cotta, and served it with passion fruit puree. He loaded his plate with seconds, not leaving a crumb. After we ate, I set down a tray with a bottle of whiskey, Kahlua, Baileys, foamed milk, cream and sugar on the table. Cole drank his espresso black. I added foamed milk and a dash of Kahlua to mine.

  After we cleaned up I brought a bottle of Krug Champagne I had chilling to the sofa. Cole opened it, pouring us each a flute. We sat crossed legged facing each other, our gazes locked, unable to look away. The wine went to straight to my head. The conversation was easy, but everything about being with him was easy. Even me.

  Chapter 14

  Dean Hansen and Carrie Verdi, the two detectives on duty, caught the murdered woman case in Central Park. They walked to the crime scene solemn, silent. Large, yellow-waxed canvas screens blocked any onlookers.

  “Look at these fuckin’ cunt-lappers. They have nothing better to do than try to get a look-see at a fuckin’ dead woman.” Dean said with disgust in his voice. “Goddamn these people.”

  “They should be happy they get to go home to their families. This girl isn’t going anywhere except t
he morgue,” Carrie interjected. “They should go home and look at what they have, and be happy they have whatever the fuck they have.”

  “Your unique perception of a happy home makes me all warm inside.”

  “Fuck you, Dean.” Carrie walked straight to the tent shielding the body. She took out her phone and turned on the recorder.

  “Let’s get this finished up. I’m hungry.”

  “When are you not?” She smiled back, “I see the obvious. She was cut from left to right…right-handed. She has no defensive wounds, didn’t see this coming for sure.” Carrie lifted the dead woman’s hands and let them drop unceremoniously.

  “Yeah…that narrows the list down, a right handed murderer.” Dean smirked. “Guess we can go home now, you solved the case.”

  “Dean…did I ever tell you are a dick?”

  “Yeah.” Dean put his head down and knelt next to the body. With his gloved hands he lifted the body first on the right, taking his time, looking underneath then walking around the corpse to the other side. Nothing under the body. No clue.

  “Body’s stiff, rigor set. I’d say maybe two hours…three at most.”

  Damn pretty girl, Dean thought. She wasn’t a “pro.” Wrong place and time. He shook his head. Does this shit ever get better? Fuck this life.

  “See anything unusual?” Carrie asked.

  “No, this one is just like the others,” Dean said. “No clues to get us to the fucker’s door, but damn if I’ll let vice have this. They’ll screw it up for sure…she deserves better. This one’s not a pro.”

  “Keep looking, maybe we missed something,” Carrie said. “I’ll ask the captain if he can hold back the assholes in vice. How did they get the other case, anyway?” Carrie took her cell out of her pocket and called the captain. She shook her head at Dean, waiting on hold.

  Dean stood at the head of the girl and looked left to right. He walked down to the foot of her body and looking up and down, circled the dead woman again.