“No, you are the farthest thing from awful I have ever known, Ms. Cavanaugh,” he smiled, and her heart melted. “It’s been about two years.”
As much as she tried to conceal it, she was obviously sporting a are-you-fucking-kidding-me face.
“I know, right?”
Charlie looked him in the eyes and said with resolve, “Well, I don’t think it would bother me the way it’s bothered other women in your life, Jake. Maybe we should test that theory,” she flirted.
He immediately relaxed and leaned his head back to accept a long hard kiss. His erection breached the water like a humpback whale.
“Hmm, look at that,” she said, “All three of us agree.”
The bath was growing cold and the room was heating up so they dried each other off and moved naked to the bed.
“My turn,” she whispered. She laid him back on the bed while she explored every part of his large, long, and magnificent body. She listened intently for his groans to determine what he liked and gave him more of everything that moved him. He responded more when she slowed her strokes and laid her tongue flat against the shaft . . . so that’s what she gave him, long, slow, wet strokes. One hand reached up to his chest and the other gently massaged his balls while her mouth drove him to madness. It didn’t take long for him to seize control from her. He grabbed her by the hair, flipped her onto her back, and climbed between her legs. He teased her with the tip of the rock-hard rod while her body bucked trying to grab ahold of him.
“No more teasing, Jake,” she panted. “Now.”
“Do I need to remind you who’s in charge?” he warned, their noses touching.
“Fuck you, Adams,” she growled, sounding way too much like Linda Blair. She was frustrated out of her mind and it just came out—as it often did. Control was not an option. She was raw, she was hungry, and she was non-compliant.
She was fighting him for control and he was having none of it. He flipped her onto her stomach and crashed his giant hand on her soft, perfectly round flesh. Her ass stung with every blow. Charlie was possessed. She couldn’t talk, she couldn’t resist, and she couldn’t breathe or think. All she could do was feel.
She could feel.
Jake landed one more blow before he forced himself between her legs and pulled her hips up toward him. He rammed his entire length into her without pause. Charlie screamed in agony and release, bucking him with every spasm. She lurched forward, instinctively trying to move away from the pain but she was helpless and unable to regain complete awareness. Jake pulled her back into position and mounted her again from behind. This time more slowly, taking time to feel every ripple, every ridge, every quivering bit of her inner flesh. He flattened her out and laid on top of her, her full round ass pressing against his stomach. He was holding her wrists down while he rode her rhythmically. Charlie groaned in ecstasy, completely unaffected by his full weight on her petite body.
“Take it all. Relax your body and take it all,” he said, sending her into the stratosphere for the third time in the hour since they started.
When he had turned her on her back and was taking her for a fourth time she teetered on losing consciousness and drifted into a semi-dream state. She was aware that Jake was inside her and holding her wrist down, but she wasn’t sure where they were. Her senses were playing tricks on her. She heard echoes indicative of a larger space. There were strange smells and she was unable to bring his face into focus, even though it was only inches away from hers. It was surreal and intense and she loved every single second of it.
Eventually Jake rolled on his side, pulling her into him and entering her again from behind. Rocking her, whispering to her, losing himself in her. An hour and a half and untold orgasms later Charlie finally waved the white flag.
“Uncle! Jesus Christ, Uncle!” she said laughing and rolling away from him and holding up her hands in defense.
“I never said there weren’t advantages to this umm . . . disorder,” he smiled.
Charlie was asleep before Jake finished his sentence. He covered her up, kissed her forehead, and ordered breakfast. She slept through breakfast and Jake tried to let her rest, knowing what he had in store for her. She looked so enticing lying there naked and satiated he was unable to resist. She awoke to him biting and sucking her nipples and it instantly brought her to the ready line.
“Are you hungry? Do you want to eat first?” he asked with genuine concern.
“Yes,” she said with a sleepy smile. She slid under the covers to take him into her mouth again. Two hours later she again called it again, slapping her hand three times on the bed like a wrestler and begging him to get her some ice.
“Rookie,” he quipped as he got up to grab the ice bucket and she threw a pillow at him.
After round three, they laid in each other arms in perfect contentment.
“You know, we’re missing a beautiful day.”
“No, we’re enjoying a beautiful day,” she countered.
She purred and reached to silence her vibrating phone. It was Clint calling for at least the fifth time since they arrived yesterday.
Jake glanced at her phone as she picked it up. “Doesn’t Clint know that the captain is covering this weekend?” he asked casually. She nodded. “He calls you a lot.” She nodded again and shrugged. He wrapped her up in the sheet and hugged her to him, careful not to disturb the ice pack between her legs. They talked until the sun began to hide from the sky. Jake tried to keep from starting up again, knowing she was hurting, but his hands always went for her ample and engorged breasts and before he knew it he had her whimpering.
“No, no, no. Jake, stop. You have to stop. Seriously, I’m not going to be able to walk.”
At Jake’s insistence they ordered a huge meal and an expensive bottle of wine from room service. They ate it picnic style on the bed while they watched The Bird Cage, quoting almost every line before it was uttered.
“Agador Spartacus! He insists on being called by his full name.”
Before turning in, they returned to the giant soaking tub for one more bath, this one far less serious. They laughed, splashed, and flirted. Jake washed her hair and she washed his, all memory of nearly having her neck broken dispelled from Charlie’s mind.
“I don’t want to go back. I want more of this Jake.”
He looked very seriously at her and took her face into his giant hands. “Charlotte, I can do that for you. We can leave here. I have enough money to last us the rest of our lives if we’re careful.”
Her smile vanished. “Jake. That sounds amazing. It really does. I just can’t. My job. My guys. I can’t.”
A cloud settled over them for the remainder of the night. They held each other, but there was no more lovemaking and they drove in silence back to Landon on Sunday morning. Jake focused on the road while Charlie returned a dozen texts and emails. Jake said he would sleep at his hotel so she could recover and he could catch up on his paperwork for the taskforce. He insisted on clearing her apartment first to make sure it was safe.
Monday morning after a night of bizarre and erotic dreams, she arrived at her office where Clint sat waiting for her.
“Wow,” he said, flatly.
“What?”
“I don’t know. You just look different. Where you been all weekend? With Adams? You’re falling for him, aren’t you? Is that why you didn’t return any of my calls?”
She looked at him coolly. “Do you have that pattern analysis for me, McCallister?”
Clint stared at her, got up from the chair without answering, and left her office. She felt bad about calling him McCallister, but it was the only way to reel him in when he was crossing the line. Jake was a no-show but sent her a text saying he would be in touch with her later. Even his text made her aching nether region start to throb again. She tried desperately to ignore that something was not right between them after she had r
efused his second offer to go away with him.
Four hours of weekend paperwork and no lunch later, Clint appeared in her office doorway and motioned her to the conference room.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, Night Rider,” she said trying to lighten the mood between them. Ignoring her attempt, he motioned to the chair in front of the paperwork he had spread out in the conference room. He sat down beside her. His face was serious. There was no trace of the playful Clint in sight.
Clint glanced at the open door and then at his sergeant. She nodded and he got up and closed the door. Charlie watched him with concern and curiosity, but mostly with concern. Clint separated the papers he held and laid out his pattern analysis on the conference table. He was all business.
“I’ve really looked hard at this, Sarge. I spent the whole weekend on it. I’ve studied these case files every which way I can. There are a lot of consistencies but it’s not amounting to anything. Here is what we have in terms of a pattern . . .
#1All of the murder victims were child molesters that either beat the rap or got less of a sentence than they deserved to get for one reason or another.
#2They all lived within the Landon city limits.
#3They were all suspects from your molestation cases.
#4They were all killed in their homes, except for Dumpster Doe, Alex Jordan. We don’t know where he was killed before he was dumped behind Landon Mall, but we do know plastic wrap was used just like the others.”
Charlie nodded in agreement.
#5None of them had defense wounds. It was like they just lay there and let themselves be smothered to death.
#6There was no forced entry in any of the cases. I think they all just let him in, which makes me think that all of the doors were unlocked, which is unlikely. More likely would be that the perp posed as a phone repair person or someone like that.
#7There were no witnesses in any of the cases.
#8All of the bodies were doused with either bleach or hydrofluoric acid following the murders.
#9There was no collectable DNA, probably due to the bleach or the acid, and very little physical evidence. That’s it. There is no pattern in terms of time or day of the week . . .” Clint paused.
“What?”
Clint shifted in his seat.
“Look, Clint I’m sorry. I know you want to know what’s going on with me but I’m just not ready to talk about Adams yet okay? Yes, there is something, but I really don’t know what . . .”
Clint interrupted her, “Sarge, this has nothing to do with Adams,” he had a grave look on his face that Charlie had never seen. It sent a shiver down her spine.
“Oh. Then you have figured something out about the murders. Great. Let’s have it then,” she asked, not really sure she wanted the answer.
“Well, the first thing that is kind of strange . . .” Clint hesitated.
“What, Clint?”
“Well, one of the anomalies is that these are all cases from your second year in Crimes Against Children. None of them are from your first year of cases.”
“Really?” Charlie was surprised she hadn’t realized that.
“Yea,” he said with a perplexed frown. “Given that you handled more kiddy cases in 2011, many of them more heinous, it just doesn’t square that all the targets so far are from your 2012 caseload. So that means there are probably only two targets left.”
“Hmm,” Charlie said thoughtfully.
“Can you think of anything that changed from 2011 to 2012, Sarge? Maybe a different prosecutor, evidence tech, or polygrapher? Maybe someone assisted you on these cases in 2012 that didn’t assist you in 2011?” he asked, but couldn’t look her in the eye.
“Not that I can think of,” she shook her head. “Assisted? Clint, you’re not thinking the suspect could be an officer?”
“No,” Clint said “but . . .”
“But, what?” she snapped, irritated by the weight of the thought.
“Well, you know Sarge, it’s like you are always telling us, don’t let the wish be the father of the thought, keep all possibilities open, don’t decide on a suspect and then let the evidence prove your own theory, let the evidence be the lead detective yadda yada yada,” he said defensively.
“I have no recollection of teaching you yada yada yada,” she said, forcing a grin, but Clint’s face remained grave as he looked down at the papers on the conference table. She locked her stare on him. He didn’t have to engage her stare to feel its weight. He had felt it before.
“What is the second thing Clint?”
“What second thing?”
“Clint, you said the first thing that is kind of strange . . . that means there’s a second thing. What’s the second thing?”
Clint looked up and locked his eyes with hers and said without blinking, “The only case you have an alibi for is the Daniel Silver case and you and Jake were the team staked out on his house when he was killed.”
Charlie took a deep breath and slowly stood up. Clint stood up in response, holding his breath. The room was starting to spin. She couldn’t let Clint see what was happening to her.
Clint caught her shooting a glance toward the door. Not what he wanted to see. That’s what perps do.
Charlie tried to ignore the sound of the train in her ears but it was deafening.
Clint could see the hurt in her eyes and it was ripping him in two. “Sarge, look, I know that you’re not involved, but these are your cases, your suspects. It would have been careless of me not to at least consider it and look into it so I could eliminate it as a possibility, right?”
Eliminate it? You mean me, she thought. Eliminate me as a suspect. Charlie grabbed the edge of the table to see if that would help with the spinning room and the train that was growing louder and louder.
“Sarge, please . . . sit down. Please!” He forced her back down into the chair. “Listen to me.” He spoke quietly and slowly. “You said yourself weeks ago that the killer had inside experience of some kind. No forced entry. Frying the crime scene with two different chemicals to destroy evidence, remember?” He ran his hand through his hair. “I had to eliminate the possibility that maybe your cheese slipped off the cracker and you iced these fuckers.” He spun her chair toward him so they were knees to knees and grabbed her shoulders, his eyes desperately searching for forgiveness.
“Look at me Charlie,” Clint ordered, trying to get control of the situation.
“But you haven’t eliminated me,” she said quietly. “How is it that I am still on the case? Still on the job?”
“Because I haven’t said anything to anyone,” he said softly, taking her hand and dropping to one knee in front of her.
Charlie let out a long sigh and slumped back in the chair.
“Well, no one on the department,” he clarified. Charlie immediately sat back up and pulled her hand away, her eyes demanding an answer from him.
“I talked to Jake.” Clint recoiled when he saw Charlie’s eyes catch fire.
“I had to talk to somebody, Sarge! You are the somebody I always talk to. I couldn’t talk to you. I couldn’t say anything to the guys, so I figured Jake would be my best bet because he’s an outsider. Plus . . .”
“Plus what?” she asked, daggers shooting from her eyes.
“Plus I had to talk to him. I had to make sure he was with you the whole time the night of the Daniel Silver homicide.”
Charlie said nothing and for once, she kept a poker face.
“And he was. Jake said you and he were together from start to finish so that cleared it up for me. So, see? I have eliminated you.” Clint slid back into the chair exhausted and again took her hand. She tried to resist but he refused to let go.
“This has been killing me Charlie. You know how I feel about you. You do, right?”
Charlie nodded, staring through him, he
r anger subsiding and panic starting to set in.
“How did you establish my lack of alibi for the other murders?” she asked mechanically, putting her detective hat back on.
“I checked the time sheets. And your day planner.” He sighed. Again he ran his hand through his hair. “The usual stuff,” he shrugged uncomfortably.
Charlie pursed her lips and nodded.
Clint had investigated her behind her back and Jake knew and had said nothing. The betrayal from both of them was like a punch in the face.
“Do you want a statement?” she said, flatly.
“Oh my God, Sarge, quit it! I had to tell you because I felt like a shit going behind your back. I should have just come to you, but that didn’t feel right either. Jake convinced me the best thing to do once I knew that you and he were together every minute of the stakeout was to just keep it to myself, but it’s been killing me. The bottom line is I’m satisfied. It’s done and as long as I am satisfied, I don’t see any reason to put this in the case log.” She raised an eyebrow at him, the police supervisor in her returning.
“Yes. I know I am supposed to but I-am-not-going-to-sergeant. Now, can we please go get a drink? Jesus Christ, I need a drink!” He said laying his head on the table. “I mean a beer, not a drink. I need a beer.” Charlie laughed in spite of herself. Poor Clint looked so pathetic.
“Okay, but I’m buying.”
“Oh, hell yes, you are,” he laughed. “You just took ten years off my life.”
Clint and Charlie met at Amy’s Café and enjoyed as good a visit as they had had in months. The investigation and Jake’s constant presence had made it very difficult for them to connect. Charlie missed her friend. Supervising him at work and having a beer with him was not the same thing. Clint and Charlie had seen each other through a lot of personal drama—her divorce, his divorce, losing her parents, dealing with his drinking problem, and missing Thompson.
They had been there for each other, any time, day or night. Neither of them had any ulterior motive. He never made a move on her. She never made a move on him. They had consumed tequila together until they passed out, had seen each other half dressed and even slept in the same bed once when Charlie had awoken on his couch screaming from one of her train nightmares. It rattled Clint so badly he made her share his bed with him for the remainder of the night.
The Hooker, the Handyman and What the Parrot Saw Page 21