SOLD TO A KILLER

by Evelyn Glass

  “I, uh,” he began, and I followed him with my gaze, urging him to say something, to make it real. “I should be getting back,” he muttered. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  And with that, he vanished back inside the building, leaving me alone in the cold outside. I stared after him for a second, and then climbed into the car, sat down, and pressed my head against the steering wheel. Yeah, way to blow that one, idiot.

  Chapter Eight

  When I woke up the next morning, I knew I had to do something about Jazz and Ella. Not like that—no, I had pretty much given up on anything happening between Jazz and I, especially after I royally shot myself in the foot the night before. I wanted to do something to help them, to figure out who had broken in and hurt her, and how they could keep her safe in the future. I glanced at my watch, and saw that it was early enough that Jazz wouldn’t be back and Ella wouldn’t be awake—and that meant it was time to call Lucy.

  I reached for my phone, glad that my best friend was a nurse who was usually up all hours of the day and night on shift or trying to reset her sleeping patterns. She and I hadn’t had much time to talk over the last few weeks, what with my babysitting and starting the new job, but she was aware that I was crushing hard on Jazz and had already warned me of what a dumb fucking idea that it was. I typed in her number and pressed call.

  “Hello?” Her voice came down the line a few seconds later.

  “How do you sound so perky for this time in the morning?” I demanded. “Seriously, I’m asking.”

  “Oh, hey, Moan.” She laughed, her voice bright and wide-awake as she used her nickname for me. “What’s up?”

  “It’s about Jazz.” I sighed, and I could practically hear Lucy’s gossip monitors perking up with interest as soon as those words came out of my mouth.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I began, hesitating slightly. “Something…happened between us.”

  “Please tell me you’re not calling me from his bed right now?”

  “No, nothing like that,” I assured her. “I just…I was driving Ella home last night after he took her out, and our hands touched on top of the car, and we had a…moment?”

  “What kind of moment?” Lucy demanded, ever the analytical one. “Did you kiss? Did something happen?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “Nothing more than that. But he ran away pretty quickly, and I wanted to follow him and you know…do something.”

  “You’re the babysitter,” she reminded me. “It’s kind of a cliché, no?”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t stop him being really, really hot,” I sighed. Then I heard the front door open, making me jump.

  “Shit, he’s back,” I muttered into the phone. “Give me a call later and we can have a proper catch-up, right?”

  “Right,” she agreed. “I’ll talk to you soon. Take care.”

  I hung up the phone, pulled on some clothes, and made my way downstairs. I had an idea to pitch to Jazz—and no, it wasn’t one involving an extension of what had happened last night. I made my way downstairs and found Jazz, as ever, making coffee at the kitchen counter. He glanced up and me, then immediately back down at his feet again.

  “Morning!” I greeted him brightly, hoping that if I was upbeat enough we could pretend that last night had never happened and move on with our lives.

  “Yeah, uh, morning.” He nodded in my direction briefly. “Sleep well?”

  “Yep.” I approached him slowly, worried that it I got too close I might be pulled into his magnetic field once again. Now that it had happened once, I was worried that it would become an inevitability—the attraction to him undeniable, whatever it was between us impossible to ignore. Not that I particularly wanted to, but hey—that would go on the back burner for now. I had more important things to think about.

  “So,” I began with a deep breath, “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He looked up at me nervously, and I could have giggled at the seriousness of his expression—as though he thought I might get down on one knee and propose to him then and there. I wanted to assure him that I wasn’t going down that route, but that would mean acknowledging what had happened the night before, and no way in hell was I daring to do that.

  “I have a friend, Scott, who works in forensics part-time. I could call him out here if you like, see if he can do a sweep on the place for you?”

  “Really?” His face lit up with relief, followed by interest. “See if there are any fingerprints or shit like that?”

  “Yeah, exactly.” I nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of it earlier—I didn’t realize you were still looking into it until…” My words trailed off as I figured out that I’d be admitting listening in to his conversations doing this, but he didn’t seem to care—he was already marching up and down the tiled kitchen floor, head down, brain ticking over.

  “That sounds like a great idea,” he agreed, looking up at me once again. “When can he get here? I’d like to put all this to bed sooner rather than later?”

  “I’ll call him before work today,” I promised. “And I’ll make sure to be clear how serious this is.”

  “Tell him I can pay him whatever he needs.” Jazz widened his eyes at me seriously. “Anything. If it helps me get a little further in this case, I’ll cover anything he wants.”

  “I’ll be sure to let him know.” I nodded, then checked my watch. “I should probably be going. See you tonight?”

  “See you tonight.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Oh, and Mona?”

  I turned around, half-hoping that he was going to ask me to stay, that he was going to throw himself at my feet and tell me that he felt it too and that we shouldn’t wait any longer to do something about the ridiculous chemistry between us.

  “Thanks.” He smiled and with a small sigh, I headed out the door.

  That night, I picked Scott up on my way down to their place, waving at him from the car as I pulled up outside his work. Scott was a cool guy, with a sense of humor that so dry that it rivalled Lucy’s—and that was really saying something. When I told him money was no object, he’d come at once—though swore blind that he’d have done it anyway, just to help them out and keep the little girl safe.

  “Thanks for doing this.” I grinned at him gratefully as I started up the car. He buckled up his seatbelt and yawned—he would just be coming off a long shift, he had warned me.

  “No problem.” Scott shrugged. “So, how do you know this guy?”

  “I babysit for his daughter,” I replied, not wanting to come out and say that I’d been sent there on a welfare check. “Whatever it was that happened, it went down the first day I went around there.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “Nope,” I admitted. “But the dad saw some footprints in the kitchen, and he took some pictures of them.”

  “Not sure that’s going to help too much with the forensics, but good to know.” He shot me a playful smile, and I returned it with a faux-glare in the mirror.

  We arrived at the house a few minutes later, and Scott hauled his kit out of the backseat and dragged it up to the house. Jazz was already waiting in the door by the time we got there.

  “You must be Scott?” He stuck out his hand. Scott took it and nodded.

  “That’s me,” he agreed, and glanced around the place. “So, can you show me where you found these footprints so I can get to work?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Jazz led him over to the kitchen, helping him with his kit as they went. I watched as they made their way across the room, and prayed that something good would come of this. That was all I really wanted—to convince myself that this would all be worthwhile in the end, that I wasn’t chasing shadows by getting Scott out here.

  “Where’s Ella?” I called after Jazz.

  “Oh, she’s in her room,” he replied, gesturing upstairs. I took the stairs two at a time as I headed towards her—the reminder of the attack had me aching to see her and give her a hug, just to convince m
yself that she was truly okay.

  When I reached her room, I found her sitting on the floor and staring out of the window. Okay, that was odd—she was usually a lot more active than that. I sat down next to her, and tried to follow her gaze.

  “What are you looking at?” I wondered aloud to her, hoping that my voice didn’t give away the slightly squeaky panic that I was filling me up inch by inch. She didn’t take her eyes off whatever she was looking at—I squinted, but I couldn’t make anything out. Her room was directly opposite the neighbor’s place, her window looking out at the side of their house. Jazz told me a nice-enough older couple lived there, and I hadn’t bothered to investigate further.

  A few seconds later, Jazz appeared in the door—I twisted around from where I sat, and beckoned him over.

  “What are you guys staring at?” he asked, tilting his head so he could get a look too. And then, his face froze.

  “What? What is it?” I demanded, a chill running down my spine as he strode closer to the window. He pressed his face up against the glass, cupping his hands around his eyes to fight off the glare.

  “Honey, what did you see in there?” Jazz leaned down to Ella urgently, fighting to keep the panic out of his voice.

  She shrugged. “I saw someone in that window.” She pointed to a small, round porthole that sat at the very top of the building.

  Jazz paled.

  “You need to stay here with Ella,” he ordered me as he grabbed for his jacket. “I have to get out there.”

  “Wait!” I demanded, slipping out of Ella’s room and closing the door behind me. “Not until you tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

  “There’s someone in the attic over there,” he explained hurriedly, jerking his head in the direction of the neighbor’s house.

  “And?” I prompted.

  “They sealed the attic up after the old owner, Ian, left. The old couple who live there now, they didn’t want their grandkids getting up there and ending up hurt.”

  “How the hell can there be someone up there?” I demanded, and he shook his head.

  “That’s what I’m going to find out,” he promised, and made for the stairs. I watched as he slipped out of the front door. I had never seen him like this—not even on the day of the accident. It was clear that whatever was happening, he considered it seriously bad news. I had to go with him. It flashed through my brain before I could stop myself—I glanced in on Ella, and saw her sitting on the floor, coloring again, as if nothing had happened at all. My heart beating in my ears, I went after him, darting out of the door.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  I jumped as I turned around, and found myself face-to-face with Jazz once again—he was standing around the corner of the house, staring up at that window from the ground. But now his eyes were on me, and there was something in them, something I recognized, something I’d been craving since that moment last night. He caught me by the arm, pulled me around next to him, and pressed me against the wall. My heart was pumping so hard and so fast I wondered how it didn’t burst out of my chest there and then—I couldn’t take my eyes off him, meeting his gaze as he gripped my arm tightly. His breath was coming quickly, and he ran his fingers through his hair as though trying to talk himself out of what he was about to do.

  “Fuck it,” he murmured. And then, he leaned forward and kissed me.

  His hand moved from my arm to my waist as soon as our mouths met, and that’s when things started moving very, very fast. He pushed his tongue into my mouth at once, and I let out a soft moan against his lips—he tasted good, sweet and salty, and I craved more of him at once. I pressed my hips up against his, and could already feel his erection growing through his pants. I slid my hand down to touch him, and he bit my lip without restraint as I circled my fist around his erection. Before I knew it, he was pushing my skirt up, parting my legs, reaching for his fly…

  But before we could get any further, Ella’s voice snapped us both out of the moment. She was calling from her bedroom, and it was drifting down to reach us. And she was calling for Jazz.

  Chapter Nine

  I pressed my hands flat against the table, and tried to keep my cool. But it was hard when you knew that your daughter was the one in danger.

  It had been a few days since I’d seen that figure in Paul and Mary’s attic, and since then, I had found myself in a constant state of hyper-awareness. Even hearing Ella’s voice calling my name when I’d been on the brink of finally fucking Mona had been enough to pull me out of how much I wanted her, how long I’d desired this. It turned out to be nothing but a bug on her bedroom window, but it reminded me just how serious things were—and just how on top of shit I was going to have to be over the next few weeks.

  Mona had insisted on inviting everyone around so we could put our heads together and figure out what was going on, and, while the support was comforting, it was frustrating that we’d been at this for so long without seeing results.

  Amanda, Scott, and Mona sat around the kitchen table, all with notes out in front of them.

  “So there wasn’t anything to go on with your sweep of the kitchen?” Amanda leaned over to examine Scott’s notes, and he nodded.

  “Nothing,” he agreed. “It’s far too contaminated now. If something like this happens again…” He trailed off, glancing between Mona and I—I guess he must have seen the rage on my face at the very concept, but he didn’t let that stop him. “You need to call me right away. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “So, Jazz,” Amanda turned to me, ever the professional, “tell me about Ian.”

  “The old neighbor?” I was taken aback. I hadn’t thought about him in a long time—not since we managed to get him out of that damn house. “Uh, he was a bit of an asshole.”

  “In what way?”

  “He was mean to the kids on the block, used to sit out in his garden and call some of them names when they were coming back from school.” I lifted my fingers to begin rhyming off all the shit he’d done over the years to make enemies. “And he would usually have some kind of obsession going on with certain families…”

  “Obsessions?” Mona leaned across the table towards me. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I guess he had a bad upbringing or whatever, because he always latched on to these picture-perfect families and ended up overstaying his welcome and getting kicked out.”

  “And then?” Amanda cocked her head to the side.

  “After it happened a few times, he just stopped leaving the house. Then he put it up for sale, and Mary and Paul moved in, and that was the last any of us in the neighborhood saw of him.”

  “So you think he felt alienated by everyone else?” Amanda was pulling her psychologist shit out, and it unsettled me; I didn’t like the thought that we had put him in that position, that we had left him feeling so alone.

  “I mean, yeah, probably,” I conceded. “But he was a real creep. He would get attached to little girls—not sexually or anything, just…attached. Overfriendly. That’s how he usually ended up getting cut off from the families he got attached too.”

  “Little girls?” Mona raised her eyebrows. “How old?”

  “Maybe between, I don’t know, three and six or seven?” I screwed my face up. “I didn’t know the families well enough to guess.”

  “So, the age that Ella’s at now?” Mona pointed out gently, and I felt a cold shiver run up and down my back. I glanced up the stairs, in the direction of her bedroom, and tried to push the thought from my head. No. It couldn’t be. He’d been gone for more than two years, and there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was still around. And even if he was—I would kill him with my bare hands before I let him anywhere near my daughter.

  “Can we take a smoke break?” Scott yawned. “I need a second to think.”

  “Sure, I need to use the bathroom anyway,” Amanda agreed, and before I knew it, the two of them had both vanished, leavin
g Mona and I alone together.

  I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought about that kiss. I mean, the feeling of her lips on mine, of her body against my own, it had haunted my dreams since it happened. I still couldn’t believe I’d let myself do it—as soon as I’d seen her, her hair messy and her skirt ridden up by a few inches, I knew any ounce of self-control I’d been practicing till that moment would no longer suffice. I would have gone all the way with her there, up against the house, if it hadn’t been for Ella.

  We glanced at each other, and then glanced away again. Jesus, did I have to act like a complete teenager on top of everything else? I mean, I was attracted to this woman—stupidly so. Why couldn’t I just fucking well do something about it instead of spending half my time around her dancing back and forth between wanting her and trying to stem those feelings?