by Milly Taiden
She watched Ramirez shake his head in a negative. “I don’t know. I guess we can have Donovan check it out, but do you really think these college girls, in a town full of kids their own age, would go on online dates? It seems pretty useless to me.”
Erica nodded in agreement. “You’re right, Ramirez. But a lot of college students use Facebook as more of a dating site than a networking site. So you need to keep that in mind. We need to find specific people they’ve both interacted with that may be connected.”
“Yeah that’s what I thought as well.”
“Ramirez, did you happen to look through Lisa’s date book? Or journal?”
“I did,” he groaned. “I’ve never read so much gushing about a guy in my life. Oh and the petty disputes over her old friends being jealous were exhausting.”
Erica perked up in her seat. “What guy was she gushing about? And what were the friends jealous over?”
“The guy was the ex-boyfriend, Derek Holmes, and she didn’t say what they were jealous over, just that they were.”
She mulled over his words as they reached the place Gina Torres had called home.
Ramirez parked outside the large apartment house. Erica dropped her cell phone in her pocket and moved to open the door, but Trent was holding it open before she had a chance. She looked up into his eyes and saw determination there.
He held out his hand to help her out of the Jeep. “Erica—”
She shook her head. “This is not the time, Trent. We have a case to solve.”
There was enough hurt inside her that she would rather break her neck throwing herself out of a burning building than take his hand. She jumped down from her seat, glanced up at his handsome face, turned her back, and marched away.
Erica made her way up the sidewalk, taking in the area. All of the structures appeared to have been farmhouses that were converted to multi-apartment houses. She knocked on the door to one of the large houses. An older woman with silver-white hair in a bun greeted them. She made five-foot-three Erica feel like a giant. The old woman had to be a little less than five feet tall and weigh around a hundred pounds, if that. Erica knew she wasn’t skinny, but Ms. Lipkin was tiny, and she felt like a chubby amazon next to her.
“You must be the FBI folk I was told were coming along to see Gina’s room.” The old woman said. “My name is Hazel Lipkin. Gina was one of my boarders and the sweetest girl in this house.”
Erica was caught off guard by the loud voice coming out of the small body. Ms. Lipkin glanced directly at Erica, offered her hand, and smiled. When Erica shook her hand, she gasped at Ms. Lipkin’s tight grip. The tiny woman was strong.
“Hi, I’m Erica Villa. Yes, we’re from the FBI. These are my colleagues, Trent Buchanan and Tony Ramirez.” She pointed to the men at either side of her.
The old lady smiled, first at Trent and then at Ramirez. “You get to work with these handsome young men over here? I’d never be able to get any work done with this kind of eye candy.”
Erica grinned, glancing from one man to the other. They were both preening.
“They’re not all that.”
“This one over here reminds me of my first husband, Mauricio. He was what they call a Latin lover. What a man.” Ms. Lipkin sighed while glancing at Ramirez. She gave him a wink and then turned to Trent. “But you, my boy, you remind me of my third and final husband, Jack. He was a handsome devil, loved getting on my last nerve, but was the most loving man I ever met, God rest his soul.”
Erica watched Trent’s smile widen. He then turned to look at Erica as if to say, “See? Even this lady can tell I’m awesome.” She rolled her eyes and shifted her attention back to Ms. Lipkin.
“Alright. If you just follow me I’ll show you Gina’s room.” Ms. Lipkin strolled back inside, everyone following behind her. Erica took in the open entryway and looming stairs to the second and third levels.
Ms. Lipkin jerked to a stop in the middle of the foyer like a tour guide would their group. “This was formerly a farmhouse, as I’m sure you already figured out. My parents decided to turn unnecessary bedrooms into small studio apartments and rent them out to college kids. It worked so well they kept it that way for decades. When they passed I took over and continued to work the same system.”
Erica noticed there were multiple photographs hanging on the walls. Each one was of a group of kids around a Christmas tree with Ms. Lipkin by their side.
“Those are taken every year for the holidays.” Ms. Lipkin must have noticed Erica’s interest in the photos.
“Do you offer cooking along with the room?” Trent asked Ms. Lipkin, glancing around the room. “I know you mentioned studio apartments, but I’m sure some of these kids, if not all, aren’t interested in cooking or cleaning.”
Ms. Lipkin, who had been walking beside Trent, patted his bicep. “Smart, strong, and handsome. You’re a keeper.” She grinned. “For an additional fee we offer breakfast and dinner along with laundry services.” She glanced at Ramirez, shook her head, and sighed. “You’d be surprised how many of these kids offer double so their clothes are clean and there’s food for them.”
Erica fell behind when they started heading up the stairs. She turned. Trent was waiting for her. He grinned. “You heard the lady. I’m a keeper.”
“Hah. She’s only saying that because she doesn’t know you.” Erica huffed. She started to move up the stairs when he grabbed her by the arm. Being one step higher than him on the stairs put them at almost eye level.
“Erica—”
She put her hand over his mouth.
“I don’t need any excuses. I offered, but you didn’t want me. There’s no need to beat a dead horse with a stick. Can we just forget it ever happened?”
He covered the hand over his mouth with his own, pressed a kiss into her palm, and then placed her hand over his chest.
“I never said I didn’t want you. I said you were tired and needed to rest.” He cupped the side of her face with his other hand and looked deep into her eyes. “But be very clear, I want you. And I will have you. What we have hasn’t even begun, and it’s already consuming me.”
He dipped his head and kissed the tip of her nose before she had a chance to stop him. She was frozen in place. He stepped back, smiled, and pulled her up the stairs to join the others.
She was too stunned by his words and actions to do much more than follow in shock. Trent, the womanizing playboy was acting…romantic? It didn’t seem possible, yet he was. Is he actually worried about her? When she glanced down he was still holding her hand. He grinned and winked at her dumbfounded expression.
When they reached the third floor, Ms. Lipkin stopped. She pulled out keys from her pocket and unlocked the door. “This is Gina’s room. As instructed by the police, we’ve kept it shut, and no one has been allowed inside.” Her gaze focused on Erica. “Not that any of my other girls really want to go in there. The boys are more curious.” She glanced down at the watch on her right wrist. “Speaking of which, did you want to speak to any of them? They should be coming down for breakfast soon.”
“Yes. I’ll leave you two to look at her room, and I’ll go down with Ms. Lipkin to question the others in the house. I might learn something. Who knows? Maybe one of the residents knew Lisa Summers.” Ramirez looked from Trent to Erica. He winked at Erica and followed after Ms. Lipkin back down the stairs.
Erica knew she was staring at the door handle as if it were a snake ready to bite her. But she couldn’t help it. She was still exhausted and didn’t think her body was energized enough to see any glimpses and dissect them with a focused mind.
“Don’t touch anything.” Trent ordered. “I will not have another episode of you passing out on me. Got it?”
Her stomach churned and she nodded. There was no way she wanted to see until she was no longer dead tired. Besides, her emotions were too worked up over Trent’s words.
Chapter Four
Trent held the door open. Erica walked into a very messy room.
She scanned the piles of clothes on the bed, shoes all over the floor, and books laying everywhere.
“Wow. And they say men are pigs,” he joked.
“I thought the saying was men are dogs?” She took careful steps in her trainers. Keeping her hands at her sides, she avoided touching anything. Her first impression was that Gina was a busy girl. She walked over to the dresser. A photo of the victim was on the mirror. She was dressed for a masquerade, though she held her mask off to her side. Two tall guys stood to either side of her. Another two men were right behind her. Only one of the men wore a mask.
The masked man had his face turned away. Erica couldn’t make out his features, but the silly face Gina made filled her with sadness. What a terrible end for such a lively girl. Sticky notes littered the frame of the mirror. All seemed to be appointments, dates, and things to do. The notes were written in a kind of shorthand that only the writer would understand. Gina had used initials for names.
“Hey, I think I found something.” Trent called out from the other side of the room.
Erica turned to her left. He stood there with a journal or appointment book. She quickly made her way to his side and was a few steps away when she tripped over a pair of heels. Trent reached out to steady her at the same time she moved to grab his hand. Instead of his hand, she grabbed hold of the journal. In a flash, she watched the last moments of Gina’s life play out like a horror movie scene. Because the victim’s energy was at the highest at the moment of death, it was one of the first things that came to her. She saw it all just as Gina had.
At first Erica was confused over what she was seeing. Loud music played, and she couldn’t hear herself think. It was some kind of dark room. A musty smell filled her nose, almost like a wet cellar or a basement. The unfinished room had bad lighting, visible pipes, and drywall mid-construction. The coldness of the room made her shiver. That’s when she looked down at her body.
She was strapped to a bed that was positioned in an angle. Tight belts bit into her skin, holding her down. She didn’t know why she was naked, but panic started building inside her. A sound made her turn and squint into the darkness. A tall, dark, covered figured watched her. He was big, wearing dark jeans and a hoodie. Gina’s vision was blurred. Erica knew Gina had been drugged, but it wasn’t until then she realized how heavily.
When he shifted, she blinked and squinted harder, but the view of him grew fuzzier. He held something in his hand. A scalpel. Gina’s heart started beating so fast she thought she was going to throw up. Fear took over and made it even harder to think clearly. The hooded figure laughed when she started screaming to be let loose. She struggled against the binds holding her in place, but it was no use. He’d strapped her so tight she couldn’t even feel her arms or legs.
The figure moved closer, lowering his head by her ear and whispered, “You’re going to regret your choice.”
He sounded excited. As if he were enjoying admitting that to her.
A sharp blade cut into her stomach. Raw pain filled her mind. She screamed at the top of her lungs, begging for him to stop.
Erica jerked her eyes open. The first thing she saw was Trent’s concerned face.
“Erica?” He called her name, his voice rough with emotion. “Sweetheart, please tell me you’re OK.”
They were in the living room of Ms. Lipkin’s boarding house, along with Ms. Lipkin and Ramirez, who were watching her with worried frowns.
“I’m fine. Really,” she added when he gave her a dubious look. “I need a pen and paper.”
She sat up and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She knew she sounded deranged, but she had to make notes and talk to Brock before the details she’d gathered turned into one blurry nightmare.
“Please?”
“I’ll get it.” Ms. Lipkin patted Ramirez’s arm and left the room.
She dialed Brock while Ramirez stared at her in confusion. Trent scrutinized her, more concerned than angry, which she was grateful for. The last thing she needed was him pissed at her for passing out on him again.
“Erica?” She placed a hand over the mouth piece on her cell phone and addressed the others in the room. “If you don’t mind, I need a few moments please?”
Ramirez and Trent moved through the open door into an adjoining salon. She could still see them and they her, but she was able to speak softly and keep things between her and Brock.
“Hi, we’re at Gina’s apartment house. Here’s what I gathered. She knew the person who killed her. Which is a big break. He drugged her, so it was hard to see clearly where he took her, but I got the sense the location was isolated. There was a strong musty scent, so I think he had her in a basement or cellar, or some other place that can smell of water. He is big.” She ran a hand through her drooping ponytail. “The man we’re looking for is tall, muscular but not a body-builder type, and he’s into hurting women. He carved those words and laughed, actually laughed while doing it.”
She pulled the elastic band off her hair and tied it back up into sturdy ponytail, all while holding the phone between her ear and shoulder. “He tortured them for a while before finally bringing it all to an end. I couldn’t see his face clearly. This wasn’t random; this was a grudge. Hell, this was more like his personal vendetta. I think maybe they rejected him somehow, and this was his way of getting back at them.
Ms. Lipkin returned with a pad and pen and gave Erica a glass of water. “Are you OK?”
“Thank you, yes. Just low blood sugar. I forgot to eat.” She lied. Guilt nagged her since the poor old woman had been so kind. Ms. Lipkin returned to the other room and chatted with Ramirez. After sipping some water, Erica started taking notes of what she remembered. Still holding the phone to her ear, she wrote and spoke to Brock. She knew everyone was staring at her from the other room like she was some kind of freak, but she was used to it.
Her entire life she’d been different. Even her mother had gotten rid of her because she couldn’t handle Erica’s “gift.” Erica had smashed her give-a-shit-o-meter a long time ago and knew how to block people out so they wouldn’t hurt her. She lifted her gaze to connect with Trent. He nodded sharply and continued to watch her quietly. She focused on the conversation again.
“We are on our way and should be there by late this afternoon or early evening. Make sure you don’t touch anything else before you get some rest. You need to stop overdoing it. If you don’t I may send you on medical leave.” Brock’s voice was strained, his worry tightening his vocal cords.
“We don’t have time for me to wait.”
“What did the ME report say?”
“He didn’t sexually assault any of the victims, but still... Brock, this person is out there. He knows we’re looking for him.” She stood and walked to the window overlooking the entrance. She lowered voice some more. “I can feel his interest in the investigation. I have a bad feeling he’s going to up the ante and do something bigger soon.”
It was more than a feeling. Normally she wouldn’t touch during a murder investigation unless absolutely necessary, but this time she was touching a lot more than she had anticipated. Her heartbeat sped when she remembered the laugh, the satisfaction he gave off when he had hurt Gina. She’d gotten a glimpse into the evil that consumed the predator. Because he was a predator. He got off on making women hurt, and he wouldn’t stop until she caught him.
Trent glanced around the dining room table and was glad Ms. Lipkin had offered them lunch. Erica appeared ready to fall over from exhaustion. He still didn’t know exactly how her profiling worked, but he had a feeling that by touching things she got an idea of what happened to the victim. It made her an indispensable part of the team and was probably why Brock made her his second in command on this case. What she did was already way more involved than what he had expected. He had no idea she had some kind of psychic power. Clearly she was some kind of empath.
“Thank you so much for lunch, Ms. Lipkin.” Erica smiled at the older woman.
“Oh, please
, you’re more than welcome. It was no problem to add a few more plates. We always have an excessive amount of food in this place. Kids are always coming in and out, and we need to make sure everyone is fed.”
Color slowly returned to Erica’s face. Trent started feeling better once he saw her hands stop shaking. It was obvious she needed rest, and he’d be damned if he would let her work herself into an early grave. His wolf growled. He’d find the killer and then take his mate on a much-needed break.
“Did Gina speak to you about any of her boyfriends?” Erica leaned close and gave Ms. Lipkin a conspirational wink.
Trent hadn’t thought to ask the old woman that, but it was a good question.
Ms. Lipkin pursed her lips and passed the coleslaw to Ramirez. His face creased with disgust, and he handed it on to Trent. Trent, who had never been a fan, gave it to Erica. She didn’t even look down and passed it straight back to Ms. Lipkin.
“Not really. She only ever mentioned one guy. Derek Holmes I think was his name.” She passed the rolls around the table, and after everyone had grabbed one she smiled and continued. “She went out with him…” She shrugged. “…but then so did most girls in this house. Poor Gina didn’t realize he was a ladies’ man. After a few dates she saw through his playboy act, but before she had a chance to confront him, he broke up with her. He’d found a new one who was ready to ignore his womanizing ways. Trust me when I tell you, I’ve had a few girls whose hearts he broke while they were living here.”
Ms. Lipkin sighed and shook her head.
“Ms. Lipkin, did Derek ever try to communicate with Gina after they broke up? Maybe pursue her again with the intent to get back with her?” Ramirez placed two pieces of fried chicken on his plate.
Trent stared at the dish with fried chicken and almost drooled. It smelled so good he wanted to keep the chicken, but when he looked up Erica was glaring at him, hand outstretched, waiting for the platter. He grinned, grabbed two pieces, and passed the large plate to Erica.