Eddie came to me with the ice pack. I let him push my hair away again and assess the damage. If Kassey were here, this would be her job.
Soon. She’ll be back soon.
“You going to tell me how this really happened?”
“No.” I winced a little when he pressed against my orbital bone.
Nothing was broken. There was a small laceration just above my right eye, no need for stitches. It was dark, though—not a full on black, but there was some damage. I’d hastily covered it with some concealer before Eddie arrived. A half-assed attempt to avoid a fuss. I should have known better.
“Right, so you hit a wall?” He sighed as he lifted the ice pack to my face once again.
I took it from him and held it in place. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing I can’t take care of myself.”
Eddie cocked an eyebrow as he stepped back, arms over his chest. I wasn’t going to spill and he knew no amount of prodding would get me to open up.
“I didn’t ask you to come here for a lecture.”
He studied me for a moment. Probably trying to sort out what my game was. “No, you didn’t and you’re right—none of my business. Got it.” He pulled the sandwiches out of the bag. “I think I remember you liking the prosciutto and provolone.” He held it out to me.
He’d given up easily. When we were dating that never would have happened. Interesting. After a pause, I took the sandwich from him, then dropped the ice pack on the counter. “This isn’t going to do shit for my face now. It happened hours ago. Pass me one of those beers.”
We ate in silence for a while. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but his quiet contemplation was new to me. Not uncomfortable. Intriguing. When we’d dated, I hadn’t yet begun my hunting. The idea, newly formed, had come when Kassey woke from her coma. That’s when I’d pushed him away. When I’d ended things between us. The intimacy he craved was too much. Too much emotion. Too much talking. And so I needed him to be gone.
“I went to the library after you left.” I crumpled up the sandwich wrapper.
“And got hit by a book?” He ignored my scathing look and popped open a new beer.
“I remembered the passageway entrance, wanted to see for myself.” I accepted another beer and popped the can. “I can see why you made the assumption about Arthur. I’m not sorry that you didn’t prove your hunch or whatever it was, but I get the frustration. It does look like someone is keeping that gate well oiled. There were even some track marks on the floor. Like it’s been opened and closed a few times lately.”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah I took a stroll down that passageway for a bit but didn’t see much. There aren’t any lights down there and a flashlight only goes so far. It’s a good, concealed method for unobserved movement but it has to make sense as well. If it’s limited access and hard to navigate then it’s not exactly ideal for a murderer to drag a body through either. There are a lot of tunnels all over campus. I’d need a team to go through and it would take a while. More resources than I’ve been given for this case.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “What? Murdered young girls don’t warrant expenditure?”
“The case is so bizarre and the murders spread out. The sergeant doesn’t totally think that this is a serial. Not yet anyway.”
“But you do?”
Eddie nodded. “That’s what my gut is saying.”
“But there are differences in the killings? Things that don’t line up?”
“Exactly. The girls were murdered in similar ways but not identical. They looked the same, same age range —eerily similar really. One raped violently, one not. One had been dumped though, her body left in an alley almost off campus, hidden away among the trash and brush while Candace’s had been prepared and mounted for display. Almost like some kind of process needed to be fulfilled. Like one girl made the cut and one didn’t.”
“A perfectionist maybe.” I snatched up the discarded wrapping from the sandwiches and moved to the garbage to dump them. “Or a practice run.”
“Someone who likes control, to dominate women maybe,” Eddie said as he watched me.
I flinched, started to raise my fingers to my wound then thought better of it.
“There are no fingerprints, fibres, foreign blood, particles or otherwise on the body of either girl and no murder site, either. The way Candace’s body was positioned, that took planning. I’m thinking the murderer wouldn’t strike on impulse—he’s too calculating, too intelligent for that.”
“You interviewed the grounds keepers?” I leaned against the counter.
“Ran searches on all employees. Any previous assault charges. Anything that would flag a closer look.” He shrugged. “Everyone came up clean.”
What was hidden below the surface was the dangerous thing for many people.
“There’s a poetry connection,” I said, drawing back to my memory of his file. “A Browning poem.”
Eddie nodded then leaned down and snagged the file from his satchel. He flipped it open and found the photo I was referring to. I moved closer, picked it up and inspected it again. “Did you look into the English department? I mean, anyone can reference poetry but…it’s weak, I know.”
“Weak, but yeah, I did.” He tapped the papers in the file. “The first murder, of Alexis Chase, we canvassed everywhere. On campus and off. Interviewed her roommates, her boyfriend, her professors.” Eddie paused, grimacing a little no doubt at the reminder of that fiasco. He’d pulled Arthur into that case with little evidence and made a mess of things from what I understood. “We couldn’t make anything stick. And the case got cold. Then Candace was murdered and it all starts up again.”
“Did Candace have a boyfriend?” I perked up.
Eddie nodded, rifled through the pages again. “Yeah, a Fine Arts grad student named Kiefer Jones.”
He held out a page to me with a photo attached. Mid-twenties, good looking kid. Totally fit the artist profile. Shaggy black hair, piercing green eyes, scowl, and a little bit of eyeliner to make him look haunting. “And he checked out?”
“Yep. Had an alibi the night of the murder.”
“Another girl?” I scanned the report. “He was cheating on Candace?”
“He said that they were taking a break. Candace had met someone else. The kid was a mess. Totally distraught over her death. It seemed genuine.” He took the profile back. “But like I said, he had an alibi. Was with a girl named Devin Bells. She corroborated.”
And no woman had ever lied for a man before. “Okay. So where does that leave you?”
Eddie snorted. “With a shitpile of nothing.” He lifted his hands. “If there was something…some trace evidence, something to give us a place to start looking.”
I nodded, lifted my fingers to my lips. It was a puzzle. “More girls could be in danger.”
“I think we have some time. But yeah.” He ran his hand down his face and looked at me with a hint of defeat. “If you think of anything, any new angle, I’m listening.” He lifted his arms to cradle behind his head, his biceps bulging.
“What I’ve learned about puzzles…” I walked around the island, impulse driving me. I liked those muscles. I moved in close, forcing him to turn to me just by my presence. “Sometimes the best way to sort it out is to let yourself get distracted for a while.”
He looked up at me, confusion plain. I licked my lips and smiled before wrapping one arm around his neck and placing a hand over his crotch. He dropped his arms to wrap around my waist and smiled.
We were naked within minutes, clothes coming off in a frenzy. He lifted me to the island, my legs spread wide, my pussy throbbing. He was hungry for me, I could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his body quivered, hear it in his moan. He attacked my clit with the same passion I remembered, sucking and nipping, licking, stroking. I had my hands in his hair, pushing him down, making him dig in deep as he tongued me from the inside out, slurping on my lips. He looked up at me from between my legs, reached to squeeze my breasts,
to flick my nipples. I swatted his hands away and replaced them with my own, teasing, pinching, before flexing my fingers in his hair and sending him back down.
He slipped his fingers inside of me and started his search for my sweet spot. I was a squirter, but only with him. When he found my g-spot and rocked me there, he could make me scream. My breath hitched as he inhaled my clit between his lips, simultaneously rubbing along the roof of my vagina. There it was. The little spot that made me explode. I arched my back, urging him to press harder. He knew the drill—just like he knew he was in for a great night.
I could make him cum at least three times. Well, that had been the average when we’d been together before. We’d fucked once on the kitchen island, right after I’d squirted my juice all over him. My legs straight up, practically over his shoulders as he’d banged me hard and fast right after that.
We’d somehow made it to the bed for round two. I rode him, hard, taking in his fit body, his lust-filled eyes. I alternated between rocking my hips and outright bouncing on top of him, my breasts moving, swaying. He liked to rub my nipples as I moved. It slowed me down a bit but he knew just what kind of pain I wanted, when to pinch, when to sooth. With a firm hand on my back, he’d pushed me forward, lifting up as best he could so he could suckle me. One hand cupping one breast, his lips sucking, tongue flicking. I felt his orgasm rise, his balls tightening against my ass, his dick going rigidly hard, I couldn’t help but ride it out. He moaned as he filled a condom for the second time, letting me pump every last bit. Even though he collapsed panting, I wasn’t done with him. Not even close.
Quick as a cat, I flipped myself around so my ass was hovering over his face. Yanked off the used rubber and lowered my mouth onto his semi-hard cock to pump him up again. This is how men get hooked. This is what they mistake for love. But I couldn’t help myself. I sucked on his balls, licked his shaft, circled his head with my tongue and once he’d caught his breath, and when his dick was hard again, I grabbed another condom, slid it on and moved myself forward. Taking the cue, he got on his knees, slipped his dick into my slick hole and rode me from behind.
I told Eddie to leave in the morning because I was fucking exhausted and I couldn’t sleep with him there mooning over me. I gave him the, let’s take things slow excuse, which wasn’t totally a lie. We were going to take things slow, glacially slow, until they stopped. I could already see the potential minefield I’d created by turning our off status momentarily back on. But really, the man was a walking wet dream, totally fuckable. And, after the incident with Steve, I needed some kind of release. I was a selfish bitch, incapable of giving more than my body and that’s probably because I didn’t value it like I should.
It’s not like I didn’t get Eddie off as well. He came, repeatedly and hard, and left a satisfied man. I took no responsibility for his heart—that was asking too much.
I dozed for a bit, my thoughts circling around the case.
Who had raped and murdered Alexis and Candace? If there was anyone who could profile a rapist, it was me. But a murderer? That was out of my league. What drove someone to such violence? What would he gain from it? What I needed was a motive.
Eddie had thought of Arthur because of his connection to the girls. He’d left his file for me to read and I had, from front to back. Some of his leaps had been too huge not to laugh. Some had had potential but hadn’t panned out. It was frustrating and yet, my brain was working on it…I could tell. Every few hours I’d get a thought about something and run back to the file to double check but in all cases so far, Eddie had already tried and failed.
And so, I moved on to other things. Kassey was coming home. Her being in the condo would make my hunting less convenient. Coming and going the way I normally did would raise questions.
Which meant I needed to get it out of my system for a while. At least until I figured out a better method of moving around. It felt like an addiction. Something I was hiding from Kassey because it was destructive. Because she had an idea I was up to something but had no idea how dangerous that something was. Because I needed it like I needed a fix. And because at no time did I think Kassey’s homecoming meant stopping altogether. I just needed to figure out a workaround.
It was the same reason why I wouldn’t resume any kind of therapy with Arthur. I didn’t want to stop and wasn’t that the truth about addictions? Hunting felt good. It felt damn good. And I needed it like I needed my morning coffee. So, I had two things for my mind to work out…how to solve a murder with no evidence and no viable suspects and how to keep hunting once Kassey was home.
Challenge accepted. I always did like a good puzzle.
11
I needed to go on a hunt but wasn’t totally sure what that should look like. The bar scene in the slums was always an option, perhaps a frat house on campus, or maybe a dance club. The odds of getting attacked just by taking a walk were slim to none. Maybe they were slightly higher given that there was a murderer on campus but like Eddie had pointed out, it didn’t seem like the guy we were looking for did things on impulse.
I took a lot of time picking out just the right ensemble. Blue sequinned low hanging v-neck blouse, no bra, a little fancier than what I usually opted for but I could flash tit pretty easily. I wore a tight mini skirt that barely covered my ass. I put on some lacy white panties—the contrast would get some cocks standing at attention when I spread my legs for the audience. I put on one of the many wigs, this one jet-black with fringe cut bangs. It was my bad girl wig, made me feel naughtier than usual for some reason. Makeup covered my cut and the blue, black of my eye. Not perfectly but good enough for the darkened atmosphere of my destination.
I strapped my holster and slipped my gun in after loading it. Carrying a concealed handgun was a big no-no in Canada. Highly illegal. Not that anyone was going to find out, or expect it from just looking at me but still, it was risky to even have one on my body. The gun laws in Canada were made more for restricting the law abiding, responsible gun folks. Criminals didn’t generally give a fuck. And neither did I.
It was well past eleven and dark outside. Perfect time for a hunt. It was going to be a good night. I anticipated a great release and then a wonderful night’s sleep later. I was grinning as I walked out of my condo.
“Hey baby, how much?”
Ironically this had not yet happened to me. I’d only made it around the corner, heading toward my car when a blue pickup pulled up next to me. I almost, almost flipped him the bird.
“Sweetheart, I asked you how much? You working tonight or what?”
I glanced into the cab, caught sight of a grizzly looking beard and thought, what the hell?
I moved to the window, leaned in so that my boobs pushed up, probably showing quite a bit of nipple. “What are you looking for?”
He wasn’t all that bad looking, with the exception of the beard which needed a trim something awful. He had beautiful dark eyes, framed by long lashes most women would die for.
“I’m looking for a hot chick to blow my dick.” His tone gave him away; it matched the glint in his eye.
And we have a winner, folks!
“You got cash?” I wasn’t totally familiar with how a conversation like this would go but I assumed some talk of money needed to happen.
He snorted. Pulled out a couple of bills. “You swallow and I’ll pay you double.”
I nodded, withdrew from the window, then got in the truck.
This was stupid. Profoundly stupid and yet I couldn’t stop myself, the rush of adrenaline was intoxicating.
“Drive up the street and down that side road.” I pointed ahead, motioning the direction.
He shifted the truck into gear and did as I said. Within moments we were parked, the truck still running, his hand on his zipper.
“Let me do that for you,” I said, leaning over the console, cool air hitting my chest.
He reached over and slipped his hand into my blouse, rubbing my breast, pinching my nipple. I unzipped him, pulled hi
s cock out of his pants.
“I’ve never had to pay for this before,” he murmured as he adjusted himself, slouching for a better angle. “My girlfriend has turned into a fucking prude lately. Won’t give me a BJ unless I make her.” He put his hand on the back of my head. “And that ain’t sexy, you know?”
He pulled my nipple harder, pinching it between thumb and finger.
“Ouch.” My fingers were wrapped around his cock and I was sorely tempted to give him a squeeze too.
“You’ve got incredible tits. I might just have to pay a little extra to cum all over them.”
“We didn’t talk payment.” I lowered my mouth, making sure my breath hit his dick and then I paused.
“Ah, don’t stop there, baby. Come on—wrap those pretty lips around my head.”
I tried to pull back, move my head but he pushed me down until my closed lips hit his dick.
“I don’t—” Before I could say another word, he thrust up, pushed my head down and all of a sudden his cock was filling my mouth, hitting the back of my throat and making me retch.
“Don’t choke, baby,” he mocked as he undulated his hips, forcing his dick in farther.
I closed my teeth around his shaft, dragging along as he thrust. With a yelp he released his hold on my head, giving me enough room to pull my gun and get my mouth off his dick. I pressed the barrel to his balls. “Get your motherfucking hands off of me!”
He put his hands up, his eyes comically wide. “Are you a cop?”
I spat the vile taste from my mouth and shook my head. “No.” I nudged the gun harder against his cock, feeling mushy resistance. What he’d had wasn’t all that impressive when erect, now even less so.
“What do you want? I’ve only got forty—my wallet is in my pocket. Take it, take it all.” His voice quivered. It made me smile. I’d never had a crier before.
“You never force a woman against her will,” I growled.
“You’re a hooker!” He blurted it and I could tell it was a slip because panic flashed across his eyes when I pulled the gun back and repositioned it so that it would blow his whole unit off if I pulled the trigger.
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