Tall, Dark and Deadly Books 0.5 - 3

by Lisa Renee Jones

  He straightened and eyed her. “No, nothing.” He rubbed his jaw. “In fact, the guy seems pretty darn uneventful.”

  Lindsey pushed to her feet and pulled the papers off the printer. “Ten names,” she flicked the paper with her thumb and forefinger. “Only two of them are men. We have names, addresses, and phone numbers. Mission accomplished.”

  Mark nodded and reached for her hand. “Perfect, let’s get out of here.”

  Lindsey dodged his hand and made a face. “Let’s dig around a bit more.”

  Before Mark could comment, Lindsey buzzed past him and disappeared into the hall. Lindsey found what she thought was the master bedroom, and slipped inside, flipping on the light switch as she entered.

  Surveying the room, it appeared normal enough to her, with all the basics, and nothing exceptional. Bed, dresser, lamp, Ansel Adams pictures. On the surface, nothing stood out. She headed towards the dresser, intent on checking out the contents.

  Mark’s voice drew her eyes to the doorway. “What are you looking for?”

  She gave him a look of disbelief. “Even if you weren’t a criminal attorney, there would be no excuse for that question.” She plopped her hands on her hips. “The bedroom or the closet is where the weird stuff always is.” She dropped her hands. “If there is any.” She pointed to the closet. “Looks like a manly place to start your search, if I ever saw one.”

  He made a frustrated sound, but didn’t argue, moving towards the closet. Lindsey figured he just wanted to get it over with. Lindsey searched drawer after drawer. When Mark finished the closet, he turned to face her. “Nothing.”

  Lindsey sighed. “Same here.”

  “Good, then it’s time to go,” he said firmly.

  She tried to glare, but it was lost in the midst of another sneeze. “The damn cat must sleep in this room.”

  Mark’s expression was dark. “Let’s go.”

  Lindsey knew she had pressed her luck with Mark. It was time to do what he wanted. Besides, her nose was killing her. “Fine, let’s go.”

  They made it to the hallway when the lock on the front door started to rattle. “The sister,” Lindsey whispered.

  They scanned the room for their best escape route. Mark grabbed her hand. “Quick, the kitchen,” he whispered tugging her behind him. “Maybe there’s a back door.”

  They stopped in the center of the kitchen. “Nope,” Lindsey said. “No exit.”

  Mark yanked open a small door to reveal a tiny, well-kept pantry, barely big enough for one person. He reached for Lindsey, pulling her with him as he stepped into the closet and pulled the door shut. They were standing face to face, their thighs pressed together. Mark leaned against the wall, shifting Lindsey with him, and Lord help her, she felt it in every inch of her body.

  He looked down at her, and despite the dimness of the light, she could see the desire he felt, just as she had seen it in her kitchen. She’d talked herself out of acting then, a flare of second thoughts making her bolt. Afraid he would be as controlling as the men in her past. Afraid she was lost to him if she gave in to her attraction.

  But there was no way to hide from this moment.

  Flattening his hands on her back, pulling even closer, he molded them together. And she didn’t fight him, silently giving her approval of his actions. Her heart was racing, pounding so loudly in her chest, she wondered if he could hear, or at this proximity, feel it.

  Her hand settled on his chest, fingers spread. They stared at one another, a mutual understanding, a need, shared in those moments. Both knew what the other wanted.

  “Hey there kitty, how are you?” A woman’s voice made Lindsey stiffen as she listened, never taking her eyes from Mark’s. The voice was loud. Close. “I brought you your favorite food. You miss Roger, I bet, huh?”

  Mark slowly moved his hands up her back, sliding them around her waist, and then up her sides, barely skimming her breasts. Lindsey almost gasped from the sudden, intimate touch. Mark smiled down at her with a challenge in his eyes. Surely, he knew he’d already won. She was ready to surrender.

  It was pure madness, but standing in a closet, about to be caught for breaking and entering, his every little move impacted her with such intensity, it took Lindsey’s breath away.

  His eyes were full of suggestion, and Lindsey felt her body responding with a resounding YES. The only thing keeping Lindsey from completely losing control and attacking Mark was the voice on the other side of the door.

  “Little kitty, eat up! I can’t stay tonight. I have to go see your Daddy.” The woman was talking in a baby voice to the cat. Lindsey started to roll her eyes, but then she heard the sobs. The woman was crying. Lindsey’s heart sank. She felt the pain of Roger’s sister as if it were her own.

  Suddenly Lindsey felt the tickling of a sneeze. Panic formed and overwhelmed her as she struggled to stifle her urge. Just as suddenly as the sneeze had snuck up on her, so did Mark’s lips. Hungrily they met hers and she accepted them, her sneeze disappearing without a trace, passion replacing it in equally uncontrollable dimensions.

  It was a long, sweet kiss that tasted of desire and temptation. His flavor was perfection, even better than she remembered, and she wanted him to keep kissing her. God, she wanted to do a whole lot more than kiss.

  For a few moments she forgot they were in a stranger’s house, forgot the investigation, and even forgot Paxton. His kiss was like a drug, making her out of control, consuming in its potency. Whatever walls her mind built to protect her from Mark, her body dismissed. The chemistry between them was like a live charge. Leaning into him she could feel every inch of his long, hard body. The sound of a door slamming jerked their lips apart. For several seconds they stared at each other, both breathing heavier than normal.

  “She’s gone,” Lindsey whispered but didn’t move out of his arms.

  His answer came slow. “Yes, I believe she is.”

  “Uh, we should get out of here.” She all but stammered the words. Still she didn’t move.

  “I suppose we should,” he said, in a husky voice as he pulled her tighter against his body and lightly brushed his lips against hers. Then, nuzzling her ear, he whispered, “Mission accomplished.”

  And she knew he was talking about winning her surrender.

  * * * * *

  Standing at the door of Elizabeth Moore’s apartment, now maintained by her former roommate, Lindsey felt a tightening in her chest. One of the things she hated the most about her involvement in criminal law was the pain of the family and friends of the victims. At the same time, it was that very thing that had driven her to get out of bed each day. Fighting for justice was the only thing that could be done to help. And if that meant getting an innocent person set free, then so be it. At least, then, attention would be turned to finding the real criminal.

  The door opened, revealing a young woman with dark hair and eyes, and a less than welcoming expression on her pale face. “Can I help you?” Her tone mimicked the look on her face. Dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt she appeared to be in typical college hangout attire.

  “Ms. Vicky Kencade?” Mark asked.

  “Who wants to know?” she shot back, propping one foot on top of the other, arms hugging her thin body.

  “Au-choo.” Lindsey sneezed, covering her mouth in an abrupt action. “Excuse me,” Lindsey said with a sniffle. “Cat allergy,” she explained trying to fight off another sniffle. “We are investigating the murder of Elizabeth Moore. I’m Lindsey Paxton,” she said and waved a hand towards Mark, “and he’s Mark Reeves.”

  “I’ve already told the police everything I know.”

  Lindsey really wanted to hear what this woman had to say. Telling her they were defense counsel wasn’t likely to help. “Can we just ask a few more questions? We’re attorneys and it’s our job to go to court and help the jury make a good decision.” Lindsey hoped Vicky would assume they were prosecutors.

  When the door was suddenly opened to them, she was relieved. Success. She and
Mark exchanged a look before Lindsey stepped into the apartment with him at her heels. Quickly scrutinizing her surroundings , Lindsey found it typical college living: small, with homemade wall hangings and posters, as well as second-hand furniture.

  Feet planted in the middle of the living room, Vicky faced them. “I’m so glad that freak is in custody. I want him to hang for what he did to Elizabeth. Tell me what I can do to help.”

  She motioned towards a plaid, worn couch, and Mark and Lindsey sat down. Vicky dropped to the floor as if to gain a comfortable distance from them. She pressed her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

  “Ms. Kencade, did you ever meet Mr. Williams?” Mark asked in a quiet voice.

  “Yeah, the night Elizabeth was killed. He came in for coffee after a tutoring session.”

  “You were here when Mr. Williams came by?” Lindsey asked, as she pulled a pad of paper and pen from her briefcase.

  “Yes,” she said with a deep sigh. “He seemed nice enough. I would never have guessed what a real bastard he was.” Her voice reeked with bitterness.

  “Why did you think he was nice?” Lindsey asked.

  “He seemed to really care about Elizabeth. She was hurting over her mother’s death and had these crying spells. Something set her off in the tutoring session. She was upset. He seemed really concerned that she get home safely.”

  “Were you here when he left?” Mark questioned.

  “Yes, actually I was.”

  Lindsey’s expression held surprise. “So you saw him leave, and Elizabeth was unharmed?” Mark put a hand on her shoulder as if in warning. She understood. Vicky might decide they were the enemy, if she wasn’t careful, and then they wouldn’t get anything more from her.

  Vicky was frowning. “Well, yeah, but Elizabeth decided to go out after he left that night. I guess he followed her.”

  Mark raised a questioning brow. “Out?”

  “Yes, to a club called the Pink Panther,” the girl stated.

  “Did you two go there often?” Mark asked.

  Vicky nodded. “Yeah, it’s the spot we hang at, if you know what I mean.”

  “Did you know any of the other victims?” Lindsey asked.

  “I knew of one of the other girls. I saw her around a lot. Mandy Gibson. We didn’t hang or anything.”

  “Was Ms. Moore seeing anyone?” Mark asked.

  “Her and her boyfriend broke up a few months before . . . um,” she paused and looked down at her hands which started to shake, “you know, she died.”

  Lindsay’s voice softened. “I’m sorry. I know how difficult reliving all of this can be. We’ll try and hurry.” When Vicky nodded, seeming to pull herself together, she continued, “This guy she was seeing, was the breakup easy, hard . . . ?”

  “As good as breakups can go, you know,” she said with a shrug. “He was a nice guy. Elizabeth just wasn’t the same after her mother’s death.”

  “What’s his name?” Mark asked.

  “Tom, Tom Maloney. He goes to school with us.”

  “This Mandy Gibson, you said you saw her around,” Lindsey said. “As in where?”

  “School, out,” the girl stated.

  Mark frowned. “Out?”

  Vicky opened her mouth to answer but Lindsey interrupted, “Ah-choo.” Lindsey covered her mouth and sniffled. “Sorry, again. Go on, you were explaining what ‘out’ means.”

  “Parties and stuff.”

  “The Pink Panther?” Lindsey asked.

  “Yes, actually, I think so. A few times.”

  “Do you have an address for this ex-boyfriend?” Mark asked.

  Pushing to her feet, Vicky walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a pad. “Yeah, he lives on campus.” She wrote something down, ripped the page off, and walked back towards them. She handed the small piece of paper to Mark. “This is his address.”

  Lindsey and Mark exchanged a look, silently agreeing they were through. They both pushed to their feet. “Well, thank you for all of your help,” Mark said offering her his hand. “We may be in touch again.”

  Vicky shook Mark’s hand and then Lindsey’s. “I really want him to pay,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself again.

  “We know you do,” Lindsey said as they reached the door, and then had another thought. She turned and faced Vicky. “How long had Elizabeth and Tom been dating?”

  Vicky gave Lindsey a puzzled look. “Almost a year.”

  Lindsey calculated in her head. The dates of the murders, the time frames. Often serial killers had normal lives, including wives or girlfriends. It was an excellent cover.

  She wanted to know more about this boyfriend.

  Chapter Six

  Lindsey sat down on the floor of Mark’s apartment and rested her back against his couch.

  She felt comfortable here, and she couldn’t figure out why. It reminded her of the first time she had met Mark, the way she had felt so drawn to him. Something about him just called to her.

  Trying to focus on work, she pulled files out of her briefcase, and plopped them on the coffee table. Glancing at the pile of paperwork, she let out a weary sigh. It had been a long day and exhaustion was making a fast sweep through her body.

  She wasn’t sure she was up to doing anymore work tonight.

  Besides they had accomplished a lot in a relatively short window of time. Her only regret was they hadn’t managed to track down the ex-boyfriend. They had dropped by his house and even called him several times, to no avail. They had made it through a big portion of the students on the tutoring list. Not that it had offered them much to go on.

  So far they were just as much in the dark about what had happened to those girls as they were before.

  Lindsey had agreed without hesitation to have dinner at Mark’s place while they reviewed the day’s notes, knowing full well what being alone with him meant. Her morning second thoughts were gone. A day with Mark had made her desire abundantly clear. No way was she going to walk around this thing between them for six months.

  She would simply make sure she kept things firmly in her control.

  * * * * *

  Standing behind the bar, Mark pulled out two wine glasses and then froze, his eyes locked on Lindsey. He was still reeling from her easy acceptance of his dinner invitation. Surely she knew his intentions. The closet kiss was a sure tell-all, and man, what a kiss it was. It took Herculean strength not to take her right there in the closet. He had felt her submission like a sweet reward. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

  Perched against his couch, she looked completely at ease in his home, a fact that filled him with an odd surge of pleasure. It also made him want to show her how good they could be together. With that thought in mind, he popped the corkscrew from the wine bottle.

  Mark stood above her, with glasses in hand, finding himself spellbound by the sight she made. Her long, blonde hair streamed over her shoulders, soft and silky. Her eyes, green as grass, seemed lit with a seductive message. He handed her one of the glasses and enjoyed the openness of the smile she offered in return. His voice came with effort, his mind and body so weighted by the things this woman made him feel.

  “Italian take-out okay by you?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, I love Italian.”

  “What do you like?” he asked, anxious to get any distraction out of the way.

  “Something with chicken. You order for me, will you?”

  Mark didn’t say another word. Funny, but the little bit of control she had just given him made him smile. It was only her dinner choice, but somehow he thought it was symbolic of more. She held onto control, especially around men. It was significant that she had given even a little to him. And he wondered if she recognized what she had offered.

  He made quick work of ordering the food before joining her on the floor. Lindsey was staring out the window, sipping her wine, ignoring the files on the table.

  “Thanks,” she said and tipped her glass at him. “I needed thi
s.” She took another sip before leaning backwards across the couch in a catlike stretch.

  The action draped her soft, blond locks across the black leather and Mark couldn’t help but wish it were his chest. Tearing his eyes away from her profile was an impossible task he didn’t even attempt. “Your sneezing seems to have stopped,” he commented softly, barely keeping his hands from reaching for her.

  She darted him a quick smile. “Yes, but my eyes are still burning.” She tipped her chin towards the window. “The view here is amazing at night. I had forgotten the appeal of this city.”

  Mark turned his head to the view, sharing her love of the Manhattan skyline. It was his solace on many an evening, giving him peace after a tough look into the world of crime. He had taken great pride in moving into his home, and building a successful life. But lately something had been missing, a void in his life. He glanced back at Lindsey, and realized she somehow filled the hole that had been demanding recognition. Why or what that meant, he didn’t know. Or maybe he just wasn’t ready to face it.

  There had been plenty of women in his life, but Lindsey somehow seemed different. She needed him, even if she didn’t admit it. But then again, she didn’t depend on him. He found her independence and strength admirable.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I love this view.”

  He turned his gaze on her, rubbing his fingers across his jaw, feeling the bristle of one-day-old whiskers. God, she was something. From the first moment he’d seen her, he’d known he was in trouble. She did something to him. He wished he knew what. Then maybe he could control it. But he didn’t, and he couldn’t, and right now it simply didn’t seem to matter. Unable to resist any longer, he moved closer to her, his hand running down the back of her hair and lingering.

  He heard her swift intake of breath as she turned to him. Her words surprised him. He’d expected her to shy away, to resist. But she did just the opposite. “Thank you for today,” she whispered, and ever so softly touched his face before dropping her hand.