“If it was a ritual sacrifice, then we’ve just volunteered for the altar, I think,” said Krieger.
“No way it is a ritual sacrifice.” Wren scoffed.
The driver looked at her sidelong.
She sat back in her seat and faced forward. “Okay, we’ll talk back in the hotel.”
It was uncomfortably quiet for the rest of the drive back.
When they did get back to their rooms, Wren expected they’d all go someplace to talk.
But Reilly said that he and Wren should talk alone, and that they’d talk to Krieger after they had that discussion.
Wren felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. She shouldn’t have committed Reilly. She remembered what he’d said to her when they’d been locked in Slater’s dog crate, when she’d suggested they use Slater’s prurient interests in them both against him. Reilly had flat-out told her that he couldn’t handle that, and now she’d just volunteered them to participate in an orgy. She was an idiot.
Once they were alone in the room, she said, “We don’t have to do it. We’ll find another way. We’ll just tell Doug we can’t do it. Hell, it’s possible there’s nothing here, and we should go home.”
Reilly settled into an easy chair that sat on the other side of the hotel room. “Now, now, I didn’t say that, Wren.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have known—after the thing with Slater—that you wouldn’t be cool with it.”
“No, this isn’t the same,” he said. “And, um, you’re not… uh, that’s not where my head is.”
“It isn’t?” she said.
“No.” He studied his fingernails, laughing ruefully. “No, I’m kind of, uh, excited by the idea of it.”
She sat down on the bed. “You too?”
“Yeah,” he breathed slowly. “Are we, um, are we allowing our weird kink to dictate this case?”
“I don’t think our kink is that weird,” she said.
“Isn’t all kink weird?”
“Maybe,” she said.
They were quiet.
“Look, there’s a very strong chance that there’s nothing here at all,” said Reilly. “It’s like Krieger said, maybe we’re trying to find something because we’ve committed to looking for it.”
“You don’t think it’s weird about the robes, about their having rituals there at all?”
“Wren, you said you don’t think they killed Harmony during the ritual,” said Reilly.
“I don’t know what I think,” she said. “But there’s something here. I feel like we need to keep digging. We have to use this opportunity.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Works for me.”
She laughed. “You weren’t hard to convince.”
“Nope.” He scooted down on the chair and put his hands behind his head, cradling it as he surveyed her.
His gaze felt hot. She squirmed. She tucked her chin against her chest, feeling shy. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“How am I looking at you?” His voice was deep and rich.
“You know,” she said. Her voice wasn’t very substantial.
“Do I?” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m just picturing you with less clothing is all.”
She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
“Definitely a bad idea,” he said, and something in his voice had come loose.
“Cai…”
He chuckled softly.
She got up from where she was sitting and went over to the end table by the bed. She opened the drawer and took out the box of condoms. “We should be asking ourselves questions.” She had bought a big box of condoms, but she figured it was better to be over-prepared than under-prepared. Now, she took out a row of connected plastic squares. They unfolded, stretching out in front of her.
“What kind of questions?”
She tore off one condom. “Why is he letting us in? Why would he let us participate? Do you think he buys this idea that we’re going to give him a fair representation in our ‘article’?”
“No,” said Reilly. “I think he knows we’re FBI.”
She tore off another condom. “Why do you think that?”
“We already discussed why,” said Reilly. “No way Anna and Jim didn’t talk to Watkins. And we know that Watkins spoke to Doug. Plus, he said something about our ‘investigation.’”
“Journalists investigate.” She put the condoms in her pocket, turning towards him.
His gaze still seared her. “Nah, it was the way he said it. He said that people had been there and that maybe they had killed Harmony.”
“Oh, yeah.” She nodded. She folded up the remaining condoms and put them in the box. “So, you think that he’s manufacturing this ritual for tonight for our benefit?”
“Yeah,” said Reilly. “I think he’s planning something. I don’t know what, but I think he’s got something to hide, and we need to be wary tonight.”
“We should probably just… pretend to have sex,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said. “We’d have to be stupid as all hell to actually participate in an orgy, Wren, even to keep up our covers.”
She reached into her pocket and took out the condoms. “Right, okay.”
“No, put those back,” he said.
She let out a little laugh. “You just said—”
“And I am still thinking about you without your clothes, so let’s be safe instead of sorry.”
She shoved the condoms back in her pocket. “I don’t think you’re supposed to keep them in your pocket, though.”
“Not for weeks and weeks on end,” he said. “They won’t degrade over the course of a day.”
“Right,” she said. She turned to look at him again. “Should I… um…”
“What?” he said.
She took a deep breath, and then she tugged her shirt over her head.
He let out a hissing breath. “Get over here.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“YOU two have been, um, talking for a while,” Krieger was in the lobby of the hotel, drinking coffee. It was afternoon. Reilly looked him over, feeling both deeply embarrassed and pretty satisfied with his life. If they weren’t technically working right now, Reilly would have his arm around Wren, have her plastered against the side of his body. He’d be resting his palm on the curve of her hip—no her ass. He’d be—
“Where’d you get that coffee?” said Wren. “Is that free coffee bar still out right now?”
“It is,” said Krieger.
“Nice,” said Wren.
“I’ll get us some,” said Reilly. He headed off before Wren could say anything. When he got back, he handed her a cup and a handful of assorted creamers so she could decide what flavor she wanted.
“Thanks,” said Wren, giving him a smile that she reserved only for him, a private, almost wicked smile.
His clothes felt too tight. He sat down and focused on Krieger. “Talk us out of it.”
Krieger laughed. “Talk you…” He set his coffee down on a coffee table that sat in front of the chair where he was settled. Wren and Reilly were on a couch that flanked it. Krieger rested his elbows on his knees, looking back and forth between them. “You don’t think we should do it?”
“It’s a terrible idea,” said Reilly.
“Probably unnecessary,” said Wren, taking a drink.
“Trying to explain it to the bureau sounds like a nightmare,” said Reilly.
“And he’s probably setting us up,” said Wren.
“But,” said Reilly, “if he’s setting us up, that might mean he’s guilty of something.”
“In which case, we can’t let it be,” said Wren.
“And this is our chance to get back in,” said Reilly.
“Well, all that makes sense to me,” said Krieger, picking his coffee back up. He settled back in his chair. “Why do you want me to talk you out of it?”
Reilly studied his coffee cup and didn’t answer.
“Does it really ma
ke sense to you?” said Wren. “You don’t think we’re being incredibly stupid?”
“If they’re really as intent on everything being consensual as they say, I don’t see how it can really be a big deal,” said Krieger. “We just don’t really do anything.”
“But will we find out anything useful?” said Wren.
“Look, it’s probably going to be gross,” said Krieger. “A bunch of balding dudes with beer bellies wandering around—like those nudist colonies where it’s all people you never wanted to see naked.”
Reilly nodded. “Yes, good. More of that.” That was dampening whatever was going on inside him.
Krieger shot him a look.
Reilly coughed. “Because, um, because we’re… we’re thinking about it in terms of—”
“Yeah, I’m picking up the terms that you’re thinking,” said Krieger, and his neck suddenly flushed red. He hid behind his coffee cup.
It was quiet.
“Shit,” said Krieger.
“Talk us out of it,” said Reilly.
“At the very least, you shouldn’t go,” said Wren.
Krieger cleared his throat and sat up straight. “I think it’s obvious I have to go. I’m going to be the most objective about this. You two shouldn’t go, though.”
“Right,” said Wren.
“But you have to go,” said Krieger. “We should all be there. I’ll just keep an eye on you guys and make sure you…” He cringed. “Okay, I will not keep an eye…” He drained the rest of his coffee and slammed the cup down on the coffee table. “If there’s something going on, we gotta get in there.” He stood up. “You two, I’ve seen your track record, so I’m sure you can keep it together and be professional.”
“Right,” said Wren. “We’re always… professional.”
“Definitely,” said Reilly.
Krieger shook his head, not looking at them. “I’ll see you later, when we’re ready to head out there. Right now, I need to go take a cold shower or throw up or something.”
“Sorry,” said Reilly, mortified.
“Throw up?” said Wren.
Krieger just walked off.
Reilly dragged a hand over his face.
“Why do people do that?” said Wren.
He turned to look at her. “Do what?”
“Why are they grossed out by other people having sex?”
“Um…” He blinked at her. “Are you serious right now?”
“It makes no sense,” she said. “People watch porn, which is other people having sex, and that’s good. But people think about their roommates having sex or something, and it’s disgusting for whatever reason. What’s the reason?”
Reilly’s lips parted. He gazed at her, unable to form words.
“I don’t know why everyone is so weird about sex,” she fumed.
Reilly drank some coffee.
“And what’s even weirder is that you won’t even talk about it,” she said. “It’s just so natural to you that you can’t even find words to explain it to me.”
“I guess it’s… uncomfortable to think of certain people in that position,” he said. “Like, most people have compartmentalized parts of their brains. They put work in one slot, and sex in a completely different slot, and they don’t like it when the slots overlap.”
“Why not?”
“Because having sexual thoughts sometimes makes you feel… things,” said Reilly, “and those feelings can be very uncomfortable in certain situations.”
“I don’t get that,” said Wren. “Why would you be uncomfortable? No one knows what you’re thinking. Even if you were aroused or something, it’s not as if anyone could tell. Why would you care?”
“Never mind,” said Reilly. “You’re right. I can’t explain it to you.”
She huffed. “Figures.”
WHEN Wren, Reilly, and Krieger arrived back at Love Over Want that evening, they were immediately separated into two groups, one for the women and one for the men. They were herded into the classrooms that were opposite the cafeteria. Women in one room. Men in the other.
Wren arrived to find the room full of women who were all in various states of undress, talking to each other casually as they peeled off leggings or unsnapped their bra clasps. They didn’t even look up with she came in.
Gloria was there, completely naked, her body the sort of perfection that could have been a sculpture. Wren didn’t think that people had breasts that were that round and pert, and how in all hell could someone really have a stomach that flat?
“Oh, Wren, there you are!” Gloria bounced up and down as she motioned Wren over, and her perfect breasts bounced too.
Wren couldn’t stop looking at them. She was not attracted to other women, but Gloria’s body fascinated her all the same. She couldn’t stop looking for flaws. There must be a flaw somewhere, mustn’t there? Celulite? Love handles? A mole with hair growing out of it?
“Doug told me to take care of you,” said Gloria. “Get over here.”
Wren made her way through the tables and chairs to Gloria.
Gloria beamed, seeming more genuine than before, as if taking off her clothes had revealed her true self. Or maybe this was why Gloria seemed so fake—because she really was a sex robot, created entirely for the pleasure of the male gaze. Really, the woman should have a flaw.
“So, just take everything off,” said Gloria. “And then you can choose. You can be nude or you can wear a robe.” She pointed to a pile of robes flung over a table.
“Oh, definitely a robe,” said Wren, going over to snatch one up. She held it up against her. They were long.
“Only one size, I’m afraid,” said Gloria. “And most of the women don’t bother. It helps the energy of the crowd if the men are visually stimulated.”
Right. That wasn’t sexist.
“Well, I’m going to want the robe,” said Wren.
“Whatever makes you comfortable,” said Gloria.
Wren tried not look at Gloria’s breasts. She failed.
Gloria gathered them up with both hands. “You like? I had them done five years ago, and it was the best decision I ever made.”
Oh, they were fake. Wren forced herself to nod and smile. “They look great.”
“Thanks,” said Gloria. “I can’t even explain to you how much my confidence just shot up afterwards. It was like magic.”
“Huh,” said Wren. She was trying to decide how she was going to get her clothes off to get this robe on. She wasn’t shy about her body or anything. She’d been brought up with a lot of casual nudity, and she typically felt fine about showing skin. But she was starting to feel apprehensive about this whole thing. She hadn’t realized she’d be separated from Reilly.
“But you don’t have to feel self-conscious,” said Gloria. “Go on.”
“Oh, I’m not self-conscious,” said Wren.
“Great,” said Gloria. “Because small breasts are also beautiful.”
“Small breasts like my…?” Wren turned away, shaking her head. Whatever. She wasn’t offended, but she knew some women might have been. She picked up her robe again and turned it this way and that. “What are the men going to be wearing?”
“Just the robes,” said Gloria.
The robes didn’t close. There were no ties or zippers or buttons or anything like that, and they were all the same size, so Wren suddenly thought about how it was going to fit Reilly and she felt her insides tighten. She let out a little breath and started taking off her clothes. As she did, she said to Gloria, “What did Doug tell you about us?”
“You’re wondering if he told me you were journalists?”
Wren shed her pants. “Guess that answers that question.”
Gloria tittered. “You’re so funny. Have I told you that?”
“You have, in fact,” said Wren, shrugging on the robe. “So, can I ask you a question about Harmony Peterson?”
Gloria’s face froze. “Well, no one knows what happened to her. I like to think she just ran away to
a tropical island, though.”
Uh huh. So, that wasn’t suspicious. Wren forced a big smile on her face. “That’s such a nice thought, Gloria.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
“But did she ever participate in one of these rituals?”
“No,” said Gloria, shaking her head.
“Was there one going on the night she disappeared?”
“Um, I don’t know,” said Gloria. “Listen are you okay here? You seem okay. I’m going to go check on some other people.”
Wren watched her go.
Yeah, very suspicious.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
REILLY pulled the robe closed over his body. It barely met. Slowly, he shook his head. They all seemed the same size, because he’d searched through them.
Krieger, who was probably the same height as him only a little less broad, was hunched inside his, making a face.
“You okay?” said Reilly.
“Why do you think they separated us from the women?”
“No idea,” said Reilly. “I guess so we didn’t watch each other get undressed.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“If you go to the doctor and you have to get undressed, they leave while you do it, even though they’re just going to look at your junk,” said Reilly.
“Yeah, that doesn’t make sense either,” said Krieger.
“You and Wren should talk,” said Reilly. “I think you’d have similar opinions on some things.”
Krieger barked out a laugh. “So, um, should we be talking to people? Interrogating people?”
“Maybe making friends and trying to set up interviews for later,” said Reilly.
“We’re still pretending to be journalists?”
“Yeah,” said Reilly. “But let’s assume everyone knows we’re not.”
Krieger squared his shoulders. “You were right.”
“I was? About what?”
“This was a terrible idea.”
Reilly’s turn to laugh, albeit a little hollowly.
“I cannot make friends with people when I’m not wearing clothes. I definitely can’t set up interviews.”
Sky Like Bone: a serial killer thriller Page 12
