by Mary Burton
‘You will join me, won’t you?’
Nicole shook her head. ‘My taste for tea has diminished somewhat since my pregnancy.’
Dana chose a flavor from the jar and Nicole poured the steeping water into one of the antique porcelain cups she’d found at a flea market. The mismatched style of the cups suited her.
Dana sipped her tea. ‘I’ve heard a woman’s taste buds change when she’s pregnant. I’ve also heard her sense of smell becomes stronger.’
‘Very true.’ She could barely stand the smell of her dark-room chemicals, which she told herself was a valid reason for not working on anything for an art show. All the work she’d done of late was digital. After the baby was born, her life would get back to normal.
After.
‘While you enjoy your tea, I’ll set up the camera.’
‘I’m in no rush,’ Dana said. She sipped her tea and moved around the room, studying Nicole’s prints on the walls. Outwardly calm, Dana exuded an energy that barely seemed contained. ‘So when is the baby due?’
Nicole pressed a hand to her belly. ‘About three weeks.’
Dana grinned. ‘Wow. You must be very excited.’
Scared was a better answer. But she wasn’t about to share that with Dana. ‘Lots of changes are happening very fast.’
‘It must feel wonderful to feel the baby moving inside you.’
More like an alien invasion. Nicole extended her arm toward the waiting settee. ‘If you need those pictures quickly, we’d better get started. Touch-ups will take me a few extra hours.’
‘Of course.’ She set her cup down by the hot pot and moved into the photo area.
Nicole stood behind the camera. She felt a measure of control return. ‘Would you like to touch up your makeup?’
‘No.’
That didn’t surprise Nicole. The woman’s makeup was perfect. ‘Then have a seat.’
Dana sat down as Nicole started to turn on the spotlights around her. ‘So have you chosen a name for the baby?’
Bands of tension squeezed her chest. She adjusted the lights.
In the last few months, talk often turned to babies around her. Women of all ages reminisced about pregnancies and children. Some even touched her stomach as if it were public property. All of it made Nicole unhappy. Not knowing if she could love her child, she felt like a fraud when people asked her questions. ‘Not yet.’
Nicole held a light meter next to Dana’s face and took a reading.
Dana stared up at her. ‘I’m in sales, Nicole. I’m an expert at reading people.’
‘Really?’
‘You’re worried about something.’
She swallowed but managed a smile. ‘The only thing I’m worried about is taking a great picture of you.’
‘Oh, I don’t think that’s true.’
Nicole ignored the comment. ‘Here, turn your legs to the side and face the camera.’
Dana complied. ‘So do you have family in the area?’
‘No. My folks passed several years ago.’
‘Brothers and sisters?’
‘Only child.’
‘So it’s just you and the baby now.’
Nicole retreated behind the camera and peered through the viewfinder. ‘Let’s get started on your pictures.’
Dana’s eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘You dodge questions about the baby.’
‘I’m here to take pictures of you, not bore you with talk of the baby.’
‘I love to talk babies.’ Dana settled on her perch and smiled toward the lens. Her eyes brightened. ‘Not having a baby is my one regret. I was always so busy making money. I didn’t want to stop to raise a child.’
Nicole didn’t respond. Dana’s gaze grew pointed. ‘Are you going to keep the baby?’
‘That’s personal.’ Nicole could feel her cheeks flush.
‘I know. I’m sorry.’ She didn’t seem the least bit sorry.
Nicole had been excited about this job this morning, but now she just wanted to be done with it. She snapped several dozen pictures. Dana’s practiced smile came easily. ‘You’re very photogenic.’
‘I know.’ No conceit in her voice, just confidence in an asset.
Nicole moistened her lips. The baby kicked hard. ‘Would you like to see what I’ve shot so far? I have at least forty pictures now.’
‘Yes.’
Nicole pulled the memory card from her camera and they walked to her desk. She popped the card in the computer and within seconds images of Dana appeared on the screen. Dana was photogenic but Nicole knew she’d also done an excellent job of capturing her. ‘What do you think?’
Dana leaned over Nicole’s shoulder and studied the pictures. ‘Start flipping through them and I’ll tell you what I like.’
Nicole hit the NEXT button and another image appeared.
‘No.’
Nicole hit the button again.
Dana lifted a brow. ‘Maybe.’
This went on for five minutes. By the end, Dana had chosen three pictures. ‘Excellent.’
‘I can take more pictures. I have other backdrops. Different lighting.’
‘No. What you’ve shot is excellent and it does the trick. Just send the disk to Brenda and she’ll cut you a check.’
Nicole glanced at her watch. ‘We’ve only been at this thirty minutes. Most sittings take several hours.’
Dana moved across the room and retrieved her fur coat from the rack. She smiled. ‘Not necessary. I got exactly what I came for.’
After the woman breezed out of the room, Nicole didn’t feel the relief she’d been expecting. Instead, she felt as if she’d just played a round of cat and mouse. She’d dodged the cat today but wondered when it would return.
Jacob had not gotten into bed until after four A.M. He had watched and rewatched the parking lot surveillance tape hoping to see something more. There had been nothing, and finally, his eyes were so tired he had had to stop.
He had turned off his alarm clock, determined to sleep in. However, his eyes had popped open at nine-thirty. His mind was alert, jazzed even, but his body was exhausted. He had tossed and turned and going back to sleep had proven impossible.
Groaning his frustration, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hung his head in his hands and then pushed his fingers through his short hair. He rose and walked naked into the bathroom, took a leak, and then turned on the shower. When steam filled the bathroom, he climbed into the stall and ducked his head under the hot water stream. He leaned his head against the tile wall and let the heat flow down his back.
Jacob soaped off and rinsed. He shut off the water and stepped out of the stall. After grabbing a towel, he dried off, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, and slipped his feet into worn leather shoes.
His apartment was simple to the point of Spartan. La-Z-Boy couch, wide-screen TV, coffee table, and a few lamps. The beige walls had a few framed posters on them from boxing bouts he’d fought in when he was a teenager. Several bookshelves lined the walls. They were crammed full of biographies, history books, and the random bit of fiction. No plants. No knickknacks. He kept his life simple, uncomplicated.
The coffee tin was empty and what was left in the coffeepot was a couple of days old. Jacob never had time to go to the grocery store. When he did, it was always a surgical strike: eggs, cottage cheese, cooked lean chicken, and of course coffee. Only he’d not even made a fleeting pass at a store in a couple of weeks.
When he’d dated Sharon last year, the fridge had been stocked. She loved buying, cooking, and eating. And she had a killer body. She’d brought life to the apartment and he’d known he could fall for her. That had scared the hell out of him. Love equaled vulnerability. He had broken it off.
Sharon had been devastated. She’d cried. Staring at the mascara bleeding around her eyes, he’d felt like hell. He’d let her call him a coward and a bastard. And yet he didn’t try to make it work.
Dr Christopher would have a field day with that tidbit. No doubt sh
e’d link the incident back to his mother.
He opened the refrigerator and discovered he had three boiled eggs and a juice carton. He peeled the eggs, ate them right over the sink, and then drank the remains of the juice from the carton.
Kendall Shaw’s face flashed in his mind. He couldn’t picture her drinking her morning juice from a carton. If she were standing here right now, she’d no doubt bust his chops for being such a slob. The image made him grin. When she was mad her eyes sparked, and he got hard.
The juice tasted all that much sweeter just knowing he could get under her skin.
The carton spent, he tossed it into the trash can under the sink and shrugged on his leather jacket. He retrieved his nine millimeter from the locked box in the hall closet and clipped it to his belt. He’d just snagged his cell from the charger by the back door when it rang. ‘Warwick.’
‘This is Zack.’ He sounded awake and alert. ‘I just got a call from dispatch. A convenience store owner found a murdered woman. Her body was dumped behind his store. She was strangled.’
Jacob tensed. ‘Anybody see anything?’
‘You know as much as I do at this point.’ Zack gave him the address.
‘You call Ayden?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Let him know what’s going on. I’m on my way to the crime scene.’
A second murdered woman meant the stakes had jumped exponentially. Jacob snapped his phone closed and headed down the stairs of his apartment complex. The cold burned his lungs as he crossed the parking lot to his car, a police issue Crown Vic.
The windshield was covered in ice. He slid behind the wheel, turned the heater on full blast, and then got out and scraped the windshield.
Two women strangled. The press would be all over this case. The press. Kendall. Damn.
Chapter Ten
Sunday, January 13, 10:00 A.M.
The trek across town on I-64 took Jacob twenty minutes. He took Exit 195 and continued east on Laburnum. Soon he spotted the blue lights of the squad cars flashing next to a convenience store called Ned’s. He parked behind the county’s white forensics van. From his trunk he grabbed rubber gloves.
Ned’s was a one-story building covered in vertical siding painted a muddy red. In a large picture window hung signs for beer, cigarettes, and lottery tickets. The parking lot was crushed gravel. The officers had closed the store and driven off morning patrons.
Jacob walked up to the young officer who stood by the yellow crime scene tape, huddled in his jacket, his face pointed down away from the wind. ‘Officer.’
The young guy stuck out his hand. ‘Detective Warwick.’
‘Where’s the body?’
He stamped his feet to stimulate the circulation in them. ‘By the Dumpster. Hasn’t been there long.’
Jacob frowned. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Ned, the owner of the store, said when he opened the store at five she wasn’t there. But when he went outside to dump stock boxes at nine-thirty she was.’
‘He see anything?’
‘Said no. But he was rattled. Said he needed a cigarette.’
‘I’ll talk to him later. Make sure he doesn’t leave.’
‘Will do.’
Jacob rounded the corner and saw Tess. She was snapping pictures of the victim. ‘Can I come closer?’
She didn’t stop shooting. ‘Sure. You know the drill.’
He ducked under the tape and moved toward the body as he put on rubber gloves. The dead woman lay curled on her side, her knees drawn up by her chest. She wore ragged hip-hugging jeans, black boots with heels, and a tight sweater that accentuated her breasts. Her leather jacket hugged her midsection and looked like it was designed for fashion, not warmth. Dark hair was cut short with purple and red streaks tinting the strands.
This woman was the polar opposite of Jackie White. ‘What about her neck and wrists?’
Tess squatted. She lifted the cuff of the victim’s jacket. Red marks marred the pale skin of her wrist. Then Tess pushed back the woman’s hair. Bruises indicating strangulation appeared.
‘Shit,’ he muttered.
‘Yeah,’ Tess said.
‘We have ourselves a guy who likes to hold women and then strangle them.’
She straightened. ‘But I can tell you she hasn’t been dead long. Liver temp was ninety-one degrees.’
‘About five hours?’
‘That’s right.’ The first victim had died late Sunday.
‘Turn her face so I can see it.’
Tess gently turned the woman’s head to reveal pale skin, high cheekbones, and full lips. ‘She looks a lot like the first one.’
Jacob expelled a breath. And Kendall Shaw. ‘Yeah.’
He spotted a glint of gold around the victim’s neck. It was a gold chain. ‘See the chain?’
Tess pushed back the leather jacket. Resting on the woman’s chest above her breasts was a charm like the one worn by the first victim. It read Judith.
Jacob’s gut tightened as he scribbled the name in his notebook. ‘Any ID on her?’
‘No.’
Her ID was missing. Dark hair. A charm. ‘Bet money her name isn’t Judith.’
Tess shook her head. ‘I’m not taking that bet.’
Bells above Nicole’s head jingled as she pushed through the front door of the coffee shop. A blast of warm air greeted her and she was grateful to be out of the wind.
The coffee shop was small. One look and anyone could see it wasn’t part of a chain. Quirky furniture – round tables covered with shellacked postcards and chairs that didn’t match – and a collection of old Virginia license plates on the wall. The front counter sported a cash register and a glistening display case filled with cookies and tarts. The tables were full of patrons.
Behind the counter stood a teenaged girl with blue hair and a nose ring. Nicole had learned on her last trip here that the girl was an art student at Virginia Commonwealth University.
‘Hey, Ceylon,’ Nicole said. ‘How goes it?’
Ceylon smiled. ‘Excellent. The usual?’
‘I’ll take a biscotti today along with the tea.’
‘Living dangerously, I see.’ She put a bag of green tea into a porcelain cup, poured hot water over it, and with a napkin in hand grabbed a biscotti.
Nicole handed her a five. ‘I don’t know what’s up. I can’t seem to stop eating this week.’
Ceylon gave Nicole her change. ‘The kid is growing.’
Nicole dumped a dollar in the tip jar. ‘I suppose.’
Ceylon nodded as if she were the authority. ‘My mom has had eight kids. She ate whatever wasn’t nailed down.’
‘Did she lose all her baby weight?’
Ceylon rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, no.’
Being saddled with extra weight didn’t sit well with Nicole. She wanted her body back. Wanted her life back as soon as possible.
Still, her stomach grumbled and she knew she’d eat every bite of her cookie. The place hadn’t cleared out a bit and no tables had opened up. Everyone seemed content to stay hidden from the cold. Looked like she’d be sitting in her car.
‘Nicole Piper.’
The deep male voice had her turning. A man with blond hair rose from his chair. He was a cop. She’d met him last summer but the name escaped her. That was another thing she wanted back – the other half of her brain that had gone into hibernation sometime during the second trimester.
She smiled, digging through her memory for a name. ‘Hi.’
His smile was rich and warm, signaling he knew she couldn’t recall his name. ‘David Ayden.’
Color rose in her cheeks. ‘Sorry. My memory isn’t so great these days.’
‘Would you like to join me?’ He had a relaxed smile. ‘Tables are at a premium.’
Her knee-jerk reaction was to say no. Her late husband’s brutality had done that to her. ‘I don’t want to intrude.’
‘The tables are full and I’m killing time waiting for my son.’ He moved ar
ound the table and pulled out the chair. ‘Sit. Please.’
If she refused she’d look silly or ungrateful. And after all, the guy wasn’t asking her to marry him. He was just offering her a seat. ‘Sure. Thanks.’
She set her tea and cookie down on the table across from his black coffee and neatly folded newspaper. He held the back of her seat. She cupped her belly and eased into the seat. His attention made her feel oddly pampered. It had been a long time since anyone had held her chair for her.
Ayden was dressed in a dark turtleneck and faded jeans. She guessed his age to be about forty but he was fitter than most men half his age. A well-worn wedding band winked on his left ring finger. Her memory was coming back in bits and pieces. Ayden was a widower. Had a couple of kids. Boys, if she remembered.
‘So what brings you down here?’ he asked.
‘I come in here at least once a week.’
Sipping his coffee, he sat back in his chair, his body relaxed. He was comfortable in his own skin.
Nicole dunked her tea bag, amazed that she felt at a loss for words. That wasn’t like her. She could carry on a conversation with anyone. Making people relax and feel comfortable was part of being a good photographer. ‘Do you come here often?’
‘First time. My son is taking a one-day S.A.T. prep course at the university. He should be finishing up in the next twenty minutes or so.’
‘S.A.T. So he’s looking at colleges?’
Pride shone in his eyes. ‘We plan to start driving around the state this spring and looking at a few colleges.’
‘That must be exciting.’
‘For him. Frankly, it makes me feel old. I remember when his mother was pregnant with him.’
She shifted. There was no escaping this pregnancy. ‘Time flies.’
He frowned, sensing her unease. ‘Everything all right?’
She traced the rim of her cup with her finger. ‘I just get a little weird when people mention my pregnancy.’ She glanced down at her belly. ‘But when your stomach is the size of a barn, it’s kind of hard for people not to talk about it.’
‘Everything all right with the baby?’