by Mary Burton
“Marlowe’s doing a hell of a job hiding his anger,” Jake said. “If he were alone with her now, I think he’d beat the hell out of her.”
“She knows he hates her,” Georgia said. “She has to know. So why does she push his buttons in plain view when he can’t react without making a scene?”
“Time to find out what the hell is going on between those two.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Tuesday, October 10, 1:00 P.M.
As they drove across town, Jake’s phone buzzed with a text. “Interesting.”
“What?” Georgia pulled her stare from the raindrops sliding down the passenger-side window. The rain had a way of bringing down her mood. Never quite knew why.
“I entered the dates of the Reed case into ViCAP. I also referenced what we had on the Spence case as well.”
“And?” Rick asked.
“According to Deke’s text, we have a hit from the Austin Police Department. There was a murder in Texas very similar two years ago. Girl fits almost the exact description of our victims, Elisa and Bethany.”
A bitter smile curved the edges of her lips. “Our?”
Jake shrugged. “We’re in this together to win it, Morgan.”
She studied him a beat, as if trying to decipher what he meant. “I want this case solved.”
“Join the club.” Rick shifted, something he did when sitting too long stressed the hip grazed by a perp’s bullet a couple of years ago. “Deke is back at the office?”
“Yeah, and he’s got files to share on the Texas case.” Jake tucked his phone back in his breast pocket.
“Good,” Georgia said, rubbing her hands together. “I’m not in the mood for sitting at home today. Always better to work.”
Rick tapped his finger against the steering wheel. “Are you ever going to slow down and take a breath?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You’re either at work or at Rudy’s.”
Jake’s attention zeroed in on the question and her answer.
“I was home on Sunday, if you must know, but I like to work. What’s the big deal?”
“How about some balance in your life?” Rick challenged.
She waved her hand, brushing aside reasons for worry. “Balance, for me? Please. There’s no middle setting for me.”
Rick studied her as he would a crime scene that wasn’t giving up its secrets fast enough. “And . . .”
“And nothing, Rick. I’m fine. Really and truly fine. Just your garden variety workaholic.”
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, suggesting his dissatisfaction. He was aware that Jake was paying very close attention to their conversation.
They arrived at the station and Rick gingerly got out of the car. “I’m going to stroll to stretch out my hip. See you two inside.”
“Sure,” Georgia said. She would have pressed him about the hip if they’d been alone.
This time, as Jake opened her door and she stood, he asked in a voice only loud enough for her to hear, “Hot or cold? That’s the best you got? Really?”
She glanced toward her brother who was now on his cell as he paced. “Like you have room to talk?”
He shut the car door and yawned, sending her a message that he was tiring of her. “That about sums it up.”
“Maybe one day I’ll take a tropical vacation, just to prove I can slow down. White sand and blue waters. Even have a few mojitos with funny umbrellas sticking out of a big glass. That might do the trick.”
He didn’t speak for a long moment before he said, “I can recommend a nice little beach in the Caribbean. Blue waters and drinks with little umbrellas might not be the absolute fix but it does help.”
She laughed. “I can’t picture you holding a drink with an umbrella.”
“I did. Once. Too sweet. I switched right back to beer.” A slight smile tugged his lips, but his eyes burned with unspoken emotion. “I can picture us on a tropical beach. You in a bikini.”
For a split second she allowed the not-so-bad image to play in her mind before she elbowed it aside. “Dream on.”
“Always.”
She paused as he opened the door for her. Waving to the officer behind the duty desk, they crossed to the elevators and rode to the fifth floor before making their way to Deke’s office.
“How was the funeral?” Looking up from a report, he leaned back in his chair. Taking his glasses off, he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Both Amber and Dalton were there. There’s some bad history between them,” Jake said.
“Why don’t we talk about the Texas case,” Georgia said. “How’s that victim similar to Elisa and Bethany?”
Deke reached for his glasses and a yellow legal pad covered in scrawled notes.
“So when did you start wearing those?” Georgia quipped.
Deke glanced over the rim of the glasses. “Not happy about them, Georgia. Don’t poke the bear.”
She laughed, unable to resist adding, “Kinda makes you look even more like Dad.”
He growled for effect, taking the remark as a compliment. But then, he glanced at Jake, daring him to say something.
Jake held up his hands. “I know baby sister gets away with saying things I’d get shot for.”
Deke nodded. “Damn right.”
She laughed. “What does Rachel think about them?”
A faint grin proudly arched across his face. “She thinks I look like a professor.”
“Well, then, it can’t be all bad,” she said.
Tossing her another annoyed glance, he settled the glasses on his face. She had to admit, they gave him a distinguished air. “I’ll give you this. You’re definitely a hipper version of Dad.”
Deke cleared his throat, ignoring her. “The girl in Texas was named Anne Smith and her body was found two years ago. She was nineteen years old, a sophomore in college and top of her class. She’d been missing for three weeks and the autopsy confirmed she’d been strangled and then stabbed close to the time of her abduction. Her body was found in a wooded area near a small town in the hill country.” He pulled a copy of Anne’s driver’s license from the Telex and handed it to Jake. He studied it and gave it to Georgia.
“She looks like Elisa and Bethany,” Georgia said.
“The description of her school record is almost identical to the Nashville victims.”
“The killer doesn’t like smart women,” Georgia noted.
“It may be their intelligence,” Jake pointed out. “They have a similar look. But it could be something else entirely. Maybe they’re weak and easy to control.”
“Any suspects?”
“There was a person of interest in the case,” Deke said. “He’s not been identified but was picked up by a surveillance camera near the shop where Anne Smith was last seen. The picture taken of him is grainy, but he doesn’t fit the description of the man seen hanging around Elisa’s coffee shop.”
Jake looked at the picture, holding it low enough so Georgia could see. “No. He sorta looks like the sketch Jenna drew of Scott Murphy, but it’s hard to tell. The coffee shop waitress in Nashville thought he was a wannabe musician. Carried a guitar, she said.”
“Anyone can get a guitar,” Georgia said. “Cheap ones are a dime a dozen in this town.
“Chicks eat that sensitive crap up,” Jake said.
Georgia shook her head. “We do?”
“What? It’s true. I bet this guy opened with the song ‘Feelings.’”
“That’s crap,” she said. “Elisa probably didn’t get much male attention and then this good-looking guy befriends her. Basically, low hanging fruit.”
* * *
Jake parked at the top of a circular driveway in front of the tall brick home that belonged to Dalton Marlowe. Marlowe kept a place in the city but according to his assistant was here today working from home.
The rain had stopped, leaving a sheen of moisture clinging to the driveway and lawn. Jake climbed the stairs, tugging his j
acket forward over his gun. He rang the bell which echoed inside the home.
A young maid answered the door and, when he showed her his badge, she escorted him to the study. A thick Oriental rug warmed the floor in front of a six-foot fireplace. Four overstuffed club chairs nestled close in the center of the room around a large round coffee table.
“Detective.”
Dalton Marlowe stood on the threshold of the double doors. He wore suit pants, a white shirt with sleeves rolled up his forearms, and a red tie that now hung loose. “I saw you at the funeral. It was well attended. Any thoughts?”
“You have my condolences.”
“I don’t want your condolences. I want you to find a way to prove Amber killed my son.”
“I hear you visited Amber in the hospital.”
Gray eyes narrowed. “She tell you that?”
“You bumped into one of my people on your way out.”
“The redhead with Mrs. Reed?”
“That’s right.”
He moved to an antique sideboard that displayed a collection of crystal decanters filled with all shades of liquor. He filled a glass and held it up to Jake in offering. When Jake refused, Marlowe replaced the crystal stopper in the decanter and took a long drink. “So is that why you came here, to ask me about my visit to Amber?”
“Yes. I’ve heard a few rumors about you two.”
Absently, he rubbed his finger over the finely cut crystal as he studied Jake. “People gossip. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“Were you having an affair with her?”
His face paled and his mouth hardened as if he’d bit into something foul. “Who told you that?”
“Was it true?”
He pressed the glass to his temple, and for a second, closed his eyes. “My wife was sick for a long time. Caring for someone who’s dying is a lonely place. It’s draining.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“Yes, I slept with her. Three or four times.”
“Did it have anything to do with the scholarship she received from the business community so that she could attend St. Vincent?”
“Yes. I funded the scholarship so she could attend. I didn’t need anyone knowing that I slept with an underage girl. If that information leaked, it would have put added strain on my wife.”
“And then she hooked up with Mike.”
“Yes. But it had nothing to do with my son. She’s smart. She’s damn smart, and she always has an agenda. Cunning would sum her up.”
“You know anything about the texts she’s received?”
He shook his head as he drank. “I’d bet you she sent them to herself.”
“Why did you visit her in the hospital?”
“Figured it would be hard for her to dodge, plus her guard would be down. I’ve always said she knew more than she was saying.” He sipped his whiskey. “But as always, she was on her game. She killed my son and Bethany. I don’t know how she did it, but she did.”
“Why?”
“To punish me. She hates me.”
“Because?”
He tapped an index finger on the side of the glass. “She had her eye set on this house, this life. She fancied herself as more important than her current status. I didn’t want the drama so I ended it. She became furious and vindictive. She threatened to tell everyone about the affair.”
“And that’s when you came up with the money.”
“It’s one of the oldest stories in the world. Older man falls for younger woman and he pays dearly for his sins.”
“You think it was a sin that you slept with Amber.”
He hesitated. “I know it.”
Jake reached in his pocket and pulled out the telex picture of the Texas man. “I’d like you to have a look at this picture and see if you recognize him.”
“Who is this guy?”
He held the picture close to his chest, sensing he had the man’s attention. “Someone that hit our radar. The image is not very good but it should be enough to give you an idea.”
Marlowe took the picture and glanced at it. For a moment he stared before he set down his glass and moved to a drawer and pulled out reading glasses. He studied the picture closely. “I don’t know this man. Why should I care?”
“Two years ago, in Austin, he was involved in a case similar to Bethany’s and Elisa’s and Mike’s.”
Marlowe flicked the edges of the photo. “Amber lives in Texas.”
“It’s a big state and Austin and Dallas aren’t close. It’s a big leap without more evidence.”
“If this case has any connection to the Nashville cases, I’ll bet my fortune she’s involved.”
* * *
Amber knocked on the apartment door, smiling as she fingered a large gold hoop earring. It had been a long day for Mrs. Reed so she had gone to bed early. Amber however, was juiced with energy and unable to sit still, let alone sleep.
She tightened her hand on her purse strap as she waited. Seconds passed and her annoyance grew. He better be home, she mused. Restless, she took a step when the light clicked on and the front door snapped open.
Tim Taylor stood there in the light, wearing only a sleeveless T-shirt and sweatpants. A gold chain dangled around his neck and his hand was behind his back. She guessed it was curled around a gun. Tim always liked his guns.
“Amber.” Surprise frayed the edge of her name. “Where the hell have you been?”
She moistened her lips and pouted. “Ah, did I wake you up?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Sorry. I know it’s late.” She pressed her hand at the base of her neck and then slowly trailed it down to her breast. “Are you up for a little fun?”
Tim cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”
She met his assessing gaze. “I missed you. Seeing you today got me to thinking about the things I’d rather be doing. Is that a sin to want you while I’m at my two friends’ funeral?”
A muscle twitched on the side of his jaw.
She stared at his handsome face and lips. She felt the wanting buzzing around him. “Don’t be mad. Let me make it up to you now.”
“Just like that?”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or I could leave and you could keep following me around, lurking in the shadows.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the doorway. Closing the door hard, he put his gun in the entry table drawer. She lowered her purse to the floor, savoring the look of the muscles rippling over his back. He always had a knack for making her forget; if not forever, for a little while.
He turned, caught her sizing him up, and pushed her against the door, pinning her arms above her head. His dark hair was rumpled and beard stubble covered his square jaw.
Should she tease him and make him suffer for hesitating moments ago, or go down on him right here in the hallway?
He watched, waiting for the signal from her, and released her arms. He’d always been good at instruction. Following orders. She took his face in her hands, savoring the feel of his warm skin. She pulled him toward hers and slowly kissed him.
He leaned into the kiss, cupping his hand at the base of her neck and pushing his tongue into her mouth as if he were half starved. His other hand glided up under her silk blouse past her narrow waist. He cupped her full breast, teasing the hard nipple with his fingertips as he deepened the kiss.
Her heartbeat skipped and then rattled faster in her chest as she grew moist. Ah, this was what she needed. She reached for the waistband of his sweats and slipped her hand inside, softly stroking his hard erection. He moaned her name as he broke the kiss and pushed up her shirt so he could suck her breast.
Closing her eyes, sensation overtook her. She was aware of his other hand unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them down just as she had once taught him. His hand moved inside her panties, but instead of touching her center, he teased the edges of her curls.
“I do the teasing, not you,” she whispered as she bit his earlobe a
nd tugged.
As instructed, he began to rub her and she arched into him. She kicked off her heels, squirmed out of her pants, and stepped out.
This time when she kissed him, she rubbed her half-naked body against his erection until she knew it throbbed. Swearing, he jerked down his sweats and hiking up one of her legs, pushed hard into her. She cupped his buttocks as he thrust inside her with a frenzy that excited her. She could feel him climaxing. He wanted release and soon would beg for it.
“Not yet, lover,” she said. “Me first.”
“I hate it when you do this.”
“You love it.”
She held off on her own orgasm, knowing as he drove into her with growing need, he was suffering. Finally, she found her release and closed her eyes.
His body remained taut like corded steel, but he waited for her command.
“Now,” she said. “Now, you may come.”
Tim drove into her with a frantic energy and quickly exploded. He dropped his face to the hollow of her neck, his breathing hard and ragged. His fisted fingers relaxed and rested on her shoulders. She raised her hand to rub his back the way she used to. But she stopped. That kind of touch was too intimate, too personal, and he had not yet earned it. Instead, she lowered to her knees and took him in her mouth for another round.
When he finally regained his breath, he braced both of his hands beside her head and looked into her eyes. Now that her itch was gone, she felt bored and ready to leave.
“Stay the night,” he said. “We’ll talk at breakfast.”
The air around them cooled and, half dressed, she realized how vulnerable she was now. “I can’t. I have to go. I need to be there when Mrs. Reed wakes up.”
“What’s the deal with you two?”
“She needs a friend.” She traced a circle around the center of his chest over his heart. “And you know, I can be a very good friend.”
He traced his finger along her chin. “Sleep here.”
“Better I go now.”
He arched a dark brow. “You mean while it’s dark and no one can see you leave.”
“It’s not that.”
“It’s always that way with us.” Frustration coated the words. “We’ve been at this since high school, and you still won’t tell anyone about us.” He captured a strand of her hair, wrapping it softly around his hand. “I want more.”
