by Hanna Noble
She was still reeling from the aftermath when he eased her legs from his shoulders and moved her so she was fully lying on the couch.
“I’ll be right back.”
She watched as he came back a few seconds later with a condom, taking off the rest of his clothes and approaching her again. His body was muscled and lean, and she followed the trail of dark hair that led from his tapered waist down to a sizeable erection.
“I have to be inside you.” His voice was husky with arousal as he positioned himself between her legs.
Naomi wanted him to be inside, and she traced his muscled back, gripping him as his fingers slid inside her, preparing her. He entered her with a smooth thrust, filling her with his warm, hard heat, making her moan. He held himself still, giving her time to adjust to him. She shivered when he started to move, friction teasing every nerve ending inside her.
Cole bent his head, nibbling on her collarbone, and she tunneled her fingers into his dark hair, a silent plea to keep going. He obliged, his lips moving down to her breasts, tugging on her still sensitive nipples, alternating between licks and nips. Her eyes widened as she felt the slow buildup of pleasure return, each touch of his hands and tongue teasing her closer to release.
She was drowning in sensation, once again racing toward completion. She pulled him up to her, craving the feel of his mouth on hers. He kissed her while moving within her with deep and deliberate thrusts. Breaking away, she gasped for air.
“I’m close,” she managed to get out.
At her words, he lifted his head, watching her with a possessive intensity that had her pulse racing.
“Good,” he murmured near her ear, his voice rough with passion. “This time when you come, I want to watch you.”
Those words, combined with his increased pace had her body hovering so close to that delicious edge. She heard his hoarse cry and felt herself coming apart at the seams, swept away by a powerful rush of sensations. She let herself fall, holding him tight as they both tumbled into ecstasy.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cole lay back, feeling pretty damn great about everything. He was spent. Making love to Naomi had lived up to every fantasy he’d imagined over the last few months, and that was saying something.
She hummed, a sleepy satisfied little sound that had him grinning. He would have teased her about it but heard his cell phone ring from the dining room. Shit. He untangled himself and barely managed to catch the phone before it stopped ringing.
“Walker.”
“Cole.” Owen’s impatience cut through this post-coital haze. “Amaturo’s lawyer’s here. Where are you?”
“On my way. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said, evading the question.
He rushed through a quick shower, getting dressed in record time. Five minutes later, he walked back into the living room, spotting Naomi on the couch in her tank top and panties. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to wrap those long runner’s legs around him and sink deep into her again.
His body tightened in anticipation and in that moment, he knew for certain he would never get enough of her. Knowing he had to go, he settled for a long, thorough kiss, hoping it would be enough to tide him over.
It wasn’t until he was driving toward the station that he felt the first ripple of regret. Instead of romancing her like he’d envisioned, he’d ravished her on the couch and bolted to work without even making sure she was ok. “Real class act, Walker,” he muttered to himself in disgust. He dialed her number but it clicked over to voice mail and he figured she was probably showering.
He’d assured Naomi that their chemistry wouldn’t interfere with the investigation, and here he was, distracted by sex when he was supposed to be interrogating their primary suspect. He needed to focus on the case, and worry about everything else later.
Owen was waiting for him at his desk, a cup of coffee in each hand.
“Thanks.” Cole accepted the hot drink, trying to wipe the scowl off his face. “Are they back there?”
Owen eyed him for a moment before responding. “Yeah, they’re waiting for us. I asked tech to rush the computer analysis.”
“Let’s hope Amaturo is smart enough to not jerk us around today. I do not have the patience for his bullshit.”
“Ok.” Owen raised a brow. “I have to check in with tech. Why don’t you take the first round? Afterwards, you and I will have a nice little chat about the reason behind this charming mood of yours.” He handed Cole the updated case folder and walked away.
Cole walked into the brightly lit interrogation room. Keith Amaturo was sitting at a small metallic table with two chairs on either side. His arms were crossed, his stocky frame tense. His eyes were bleary, probably from spending the night in jail, but Cole recognized his defiant expression from their last encounter.
“Good Morning, Detective Walker.” Amaturo’s attorney stood to shake his hand, exuding an air of quiet competence. He wore a brown suit with a powder blue tie. Cole thought he looked more like a mild-mannered accountant than a lawyer. “I’m Gerald Rosedale from Parkinson, Rosedale and Jones. I understand you’re holding my client in regards to an ongoing investigation.”
“We’d like to ask Mr. Amaturo some questions about his whereabouts on the night of July 11,” Cole said, taking a seat and opening the file in front of him. “We’d also like to discuss some of the evidence recovered from his residence concerning our investigation into the homicide of Lily Martin.”
The attorney nodded, scribbling down a few notes on his legal pad. He turned to his client. “I’ll let you know when you shouldn’t answer a question.” Amaturo smirked and looked back to Cole, a challenging glint in his eye.
Cole smiled, looking forward to the questioning, knowing that he’d succeed in wiping the smug expression off the bastard’s face. “Mr. Amaturo, you’re currently a person of interest in the homicide of Lily Martin. We have records from your employer detailing several complaints filed against you by Ms. Martin that demonstrate a repeated pattern of harassment. This, in combination with the pictures we found of other women that we believe were taken without their consent, and your previous disorderly conduct charges are the reasons we are questioning you today.”
He was satisfied to see that Amaturo had dropped his gaze to the table, looking uncomfortable. “You should know that we’ve contacted the Flying Goose to obtain a copy of their security footage and accounting records for the date in question to verify your alibi.” Cole was certain the man hadn’t set foot in the bar that night. Cole let the silence stretch out between them, increasing the tension in the room. Amaturo licked his lips and cleared his throat, telling Cole he was on the right track.
“If it turns out that any part of the statement you made to us earlier was false, it won’t look good for you. Not only would you face an obstruction of justice charge for falsifying a report to the police, but lying, combined with all the other evidence stacked against you, would make it seem that you had the means, motive, and opportunity to commit this crime.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m going to give you a few minutes to consider whether or not you want to make any changes to your current statement.”
Cole glanced at the attorney, whose face remained inscrutable. “No bargaining on this one. If he makes us chase down his lies, we’ll push for the full extent of the law. Murder one.”
He was gratified as he watched Keith realize the extent of the case that was being mounted against him. Little beads of sweat glistened on his brow, and his face had turned ashen.
“I’ll be back shortly.” Cole maintained a polite smile as he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. He took his time walking back to his desk, stopping to refill his coffee on the way. He checked his watch. The asshole had to be squirming by now. He knew his initial assessment of Amaturo had been spot-on—his bravado was an attempt to hide the fact that he was really a scared little boy.
Giving them a few more minutes, he schooled his face into a profes
sional-detective expression and walked back into the room. He sat down again facing Amaturo, who looked panicked. Cole recognized this look—it signaled an impending confession. He tamped down his excitement, and picked up his pen instead, looking uninterested.
“Are there any changes you would like to make to your statement?” he asked, knowing that this time, they both recognized who held the power in the room.
“I wasn’t at the Flying Goose,” Keith said, his voice a low mutter. Cole had to lean in to hear him.
“What was that?” He wanted to make sure the cameras installed in the corner of the room captured every word. He felt a surge of triumph at finally unravelling Keith’s bogus story.
Sooner or later the truth always revealed itself to him.
“I said, I wasn’t at the Flying Goose.” His voice still held a hint of belligerence. “I was following Lily.”
Cole raised his eyebrows.
“I didn’t kill her. She was alive when I last saw her,” Keith said in a rush, his voice quivering.
Cole nodded. “Ok. Start at the beginning. How long have you been following Lily?”
“Since a few weeks after she started working with me.”
“Did she know?” Cole asked, feeling disgusted.
“No. She never suspected anything.” Keith shifted in his chair. “I was good at going unnoticed.”
“Tell me about July 11. When did you start following Lily that day?”
“I knew she went to the gym on that day, so I waited outside the cafe across the street. She was late. She came out with another guy.” His tone grew bitter. “They left together.”
“Did you follow them back to her apartment?” Cole reminded himself to go slowly. They needed to make sure they got every possible detail.
“Yes.” He nodded. “I got there before them.”
“And then?”
“I watched them go inside. I waited until her one-night stand left, and then I went home. I was online as of about midnight. My browser history can verify that.” He turned red. “I was looking at some adult sites.”
Cole was unsurprised that he’d turn to pornography after tailing his current obsession. He replayed what he was hearing, his brain processing the facts. There was something here, he could feel it.
“Where did you hide when you followed Lily to her apartment?” His cop instinct flared to life.
“I stood behind one of the hedges around the walkway where no one could see me.”
Cole remembered those hedges. They were in front of the main walkway leading to the apartment building. He remembered what Naomi had told him that morning and straightened.
“Did you take any pictures?” He tried to keep his excitement out of his voice.
“What?” Keith looked confused.
“When you were in hiding the hedges, did you take any pictures of Lily?”
Keith hesitated. “Maybe a few. She was with another guy, so I didn’t want to capture that.”
“Where are images?” He prayed they hadn’t been erased.
“Hidden subfolder on one of the drives,” Keith said, swallowing hard. Cole got an inkling of what he was about to find.
“We’ll deal with your creepy little photography hobby later.” Cole stood up. “Please excuse me for a few minutes.” He walked out and headed toward the IT Forensics department, reminding himself that what he was looking for was a long shot.
The tech team was housed in large room filled with computer equipment, large monitors, and other gadgets that reminded Cole of a spy movie.
He spotted Owen leaning against one of the desks, talking to Danny Martinez, the department head, who was examining Keith’s computer.
Martinez was young and brilliant. With extensive tattoos and long dark hair, he looked more like a grunge metal fan than an electronics genius.
Owen straightened as Cole approached.
“You didn’t kill him, did you?” he asked Cole.
“If anyone asks, I was with you guys the whole time,” he joked, nodding a quick greeting to Martinez. “Danny, I need you to check two quick things for me.”
“It might take a while,” Martinez warned. “This guy has over six hundred gigabytes worth of files on his computer, not to mention the external drives.” He pushed the glare-minimizing goggles he always wore to his forehead, making him look like a punk mad scientist. “It’s a lot of stuff to go through.”
“This will save you some time. Can you check his browser data on the night of July 11? He said he came home around midnight, and went online. Says he hit up some porn sites.”
“This guy keeps getting better and better,” Owen muttered as Martinez opened one of his diagnostics tools. Typing at a lightning-quick pace, he looked up at them and nodded.
“Confirmed. He logged on to the site from 11:54 until about 4 a.m.” He grimaced. “These sites are pretty…intense.”
“Do I even want to know?” Cole wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more fun facts about Keith Amaturo’s online habits.
“He seems to be into nonconsensual videos. Assaults, rapes, etc.” Martinez looked repulsed. “Gross.”
“Bastard,” Cole muttered. If Amaturo hadn’t killed Lily, it meant that he wasn’t the Phantom. He was just another twisted fuck running loose in the streets of his city.
“Even his porn is creepy.” Owen folded his arms. “This guy is sick.”
Martinez shrugged. “I wish I could tell you that’s the worst thing we see down here. Unfortunately, guys like this are a dime a dozen. Do you know how many there are roaming the city right now who share the same perversions as this idiot? Hundreds. Maybe thousands. Who knows how many of them cross the line from fantasy to reality.”
It was true. And depressing. “At least this probably clears him.” Cole rubbed his temples, feeling dejected. Their best lead had turned into another dead end. “Who knows how far he’ll escalate?” It pained him to let Keith go. “I’ll let them know we don’t need him anymore.”
Cole used Martinez’s phone to relay the message to one of the station duty cops, hating the thought of Amaturo back out on his street. Even though he wasn’t guilty, he was still a creeper.
“Let it go,” Martinez advised. “What was the other thing you needed?”
“I want to see the pictures Keith took on July 11. He said they were in a hidden subfolder. Can you find it?”
“Piece of cake.” Martinez plugged in one of the hard drives they’d found, and started typing again. A few minutes later he leaned back and stared. “Wow.”
“What?” Owen and Cole asked at the same time.
“He’s got hundreds of folders filled with pictures. Not only of Lily but other women.” Martinez turned the screen so they could see and pointed to the dates beside some of the files he was scrolling through. “Some of these go back six years.”
“He’s been doing this a long time,” Cole said, feeling his gut clench.
They counted a total of thirty-two women, including one folder containing a brunette Cole didn’t recognize, which been created two weeks after Lily disappeared.
“Goddamn asshole!” Owen’s exclamation was loud enough that the other technicians looked over with interest. He lowered his voice, his expression grim. “He didn’t wait long.”
“Here’s Lily’s folder,” Danny said, clicking on it. “It’s organized by month.”
Owen clenched his jaw. “I want to punch that guy in the face. Twice.”
Martinez frowned. “Get in line.”
“He hasn’t broken any laws yet.” Cole knew cockroaches like Amaturo would always exist.
Danny clicked on a folder labeled “July.” “This one looks like the date range you’re looking for.” He glanced up at them. “The folder contains 367 pictures.”
It made Cole feel sick to see so many pictures of Lily, taken without her knowledge. They watched in silence as the images showed the young woman leaving work and heading to the gym. It was eerie to know that Amaturo had inadvertently capt
ured the last day of her life. They watched as Lily left the gym with David Roberts.
“Ok, here we go.” Cole leaned in when they started seeing images of her walking down the path in front of her building. They watched as shot by shot, Lily and David made their way toward the front door. Cole kept his eyes peeled until he spotted the edge of the bench he was looking for. The photos were a little grainy but ... “Stop.”
“What is it?” Martinez squinted at the image. “What are you looking for?”
“There.” Cole pointed behind the couple to a man sitting on a bench looking at his phone. The light from the lamppost behind him threw his face into dark relief, but Cole felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He was wearing a red baseball cap. Another indication that Naomi’s vision had been right all along. “That’s our guy.”
Both Owen and Martinez looked at him in surprise as they leaned in to get a better look. “We can’t see his damn face,” Owen growled. “But he’s right there.”
Martinez zoomed in on the man in the picture. “Let me see if I can clear this up,” he said.
Cole sighed. They might as well have snapped a picture of a ghost.
“Looks like a Caucasian male, wearing a white T-shirt and a red baseball cap,” Martinez said, manipulating the picture.
“It could be anyone.” Cole couldn’t help but feel a keen disappointment. Even with supernatural assists, their leads were all turning into dead ends.
“Anyone tied to the Boston Yacht Club,” Martinez replied, pointing to the white logo of a sailboat now visible on the guy’s hat. “That’s the club logo, but it’s a distinctive design.” He frowned. “Let me look into it.”
“How do you know this?” Owen sounded incredulous.
“Unlike you two, I have a life outside of work,” Martinez retorted. “I’ve been taking sailing lessons there for the past few years,” he explained. “I’m used to seeing that logo, but not this particular hat. It looks damn familiar though.”
