She leaned back, stepped out of his reach. “What are you talking about?”
“Remember, I know you. I know you are planning to run, to disappear.”
“David, I…”
“Don’t.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “A father knows when his daughter is lying and you don’t want to do that. Not today. Today is my birthday.”
His smile warmed her and she couldn’t help but return the grin. “It appears Cooper knows me well, too,” she mumbled beneath his finger.
“How so?” He dropped his hand.
“He knew too, and made me promise not to leave without seeing him first.”
David winked at her. “That’s my boy. Now, come on, we’ve got a company to run.”
* * * *
He had felt like such a fool buying women’s clothing. Every time she asked, “What size or how big?” he had to answer, “About my size.” The sale clerk had seen right through him and thought he was buying a costume for a Halloween party. In a way he was.
Oh, well, he thought as he stood in his office and stripped down to his boxer briefs. He had no other choice. He needed clothes for the sting. He had even stopped at Victoria’s Secret and picked up a pair of very large women’s panties and a pink bra.
As he closed his eyes and slipped on the bra and then filled it with the fake breasts, he kept telling himself this was for a good cause. He had to think of it as getting dressed for a costume party. It was, after all, almost Halloween, and he did have a party to attend later. However, he would prefer not to go dressed in drag.
Cooper tugged a form-fitting cowl-neck sweater over his head then eyed himself in the mirror, gliding his hands up and over his new breasts. They felt so real! If he focused solely on his torso, he looked like a woman. At least from a distance, he reassured himself.
“Now the bottom half.” To him, this is where he wondered about women and their mental state. Why did they have to wear such uncomfortable things? First, the underwear. There were g-strings, v-strings, thongs, boyshorts, bikinis, and of course, granny panties. None of which, from his perspective could ever be considered comfortable to wear.
“I mean seriously, who would want to walk around with a string or material crawling up into their hoo-ha all day long?” He shuddered just thinking about it. Then again, he thought, as he tugged his boxer briefs off and stepped into a pair of vibrant red, silky bikinis, these weren’t any better. It was rather like stuffing a sausage into a too small casing. It packed everything in way too tight and close.
“Fuck!” He pulled at the legs until some of the stitching snapped. “Ahh.”
He eyed the shiny stockings and garter with a snarl of his lips. “Another female contraption,” he muttered. “For what?”
Then he remembered the night he took Jane home and how she had worn such things. The thought made him instantly hard. “Shit!” Think baseball. Uh, no think dead fish, think cold water, think crying babies. He blew out a breath once the circulation returned to his balls.
“No sexual thoughts while dressed in women’s underwear,” he warned.
Hooking the garter, he leaned against his desk, slid the stockings up his leg, and snapped them to the little strappy things that hung from the bottom of the garter that matched his silk panties.
“The things I do for my job.”
Skirt. Where was the skirt? Emptying the contents of the bag onto his desk, he found the skirt. He hadn’t gone with black leather. This time it was good old-fashioned denim. It was a little longer than the leather mini-skirt from the last time, but it still would not keep his balls warm when he stood outside waiting. He zipped then hooked the skirt into place then bent a few times in an attempt to stretch the fabric a little more.
This time for shoes, he had a pair of tall leather boots. He had gotten the idea from the pair Jane wore the first night he met her in the bar.
“Ice water, ice water,” he chanted.
He had thought they would be easier than those spikey come-here-and-fuck-me pumps he wore the last time he stood on the street corner. He zipped one boot up halfway and had to pause. His calf muscles were too bulky and he had to relax them in order to get the zipper closed. Even then, it felt as if little red ants were nipping at his skin around the top of the boot.
“Suck it up.” He did and then got the other boot on. Straighten-ing away from his desk, pain shot up his leg and straight to his balls. If not for holding onto the edge of the desk, he might have face-planted. He blew out a long breath, tensed and then relaxed the muscles in his body. He did this several times before he could walk. He practiced walking back and forth across the length of the office and turning.
“Much easier to turn in these.”
Now for the wig and makeup. He had gotten a haircut and shaved twice today. It would be dark by the time he met with his quarry, but he didn’t want to take any chances of scaring him off too soon from too far away.
First, he put on the cover-up, the basecoat, as he liked to call it, concealing his face from hairline to neckline with it. Then he pulled the wig into place, adjusted it so the part was on the side to match the picture he had used on the Love Online profile.
“Knock, knock,” Jack said from the other side of Cooper’s office door.
“Come in,” he barked.
“Oooo! You make a hot lookin’ babe!”
“Bite my ass.”
“You wish, sweetheart,” Jack said with a chuckle. “Face it Cooper, you’re just a pretty boy.”
Cooper narrowed his gaze at his partner and best friend and shot daggers at him with his eyes. “I can fire you, you know.”
Jack shrugged. “You could. But you won’t. Besides, I’m here with the surveillance equipment.” He held out his hand and showed Coop the wireless microphones they would use.
“You sure this guy is going to take the bait? I mean, we could just go pick him up and question him.”
“With what. We have no evidence, no proof. Just suspicion and hunch.” He pulled out the red lipstick and twisted it open. “And yeah, I’m sure. If this is our guy, he’ll take the bait.” Cooper moved closer to the mirror and pressed the lipstick to his lips. Then, thanks to a cosmetician at the mall, he artfully applied the mascara without poking his eyes, followed by the eye shadow and blusher.
A high-pitched whistle greeted his reflection in the mirror. “Very funny, asshole.”
Jack held up his hands in defense. “Hey! I’m not the one who looks hot.”
“Shut up. Let’s get the mics hooked in place and test them out.”
“Whatever you say.” Jack moved up to him, started to reach for the sweater Cooper wore when his wrists were manacled.
“I’ll do it.”
Jack chuckled. “Yeah, you do that.”
A few minutes later, Coop turned around and did a 360 twirl. “How do I look? Can you read me?”
Jack touched a finger to his ear. “Loud and clear the communications team confirms.”
“Who is following Bob?”
“Uh, well, that was one of the reasons I came in here.”
Cooper glared at Jack and waited.
“He hadn’t come out of his apartment this morning so I sent one of the men to knock on the door.”
“And?”
“No answer. We checked at his office and he called in sick today.”
“Shit! We’ve got a nutball out there attacking women and we can’t even put a tail on the guy.”
“I’ve got men posted outside his home and office. If he shows at either one of those places we’ll have eyes on him.”
“We better pray he shows up where I think he will.”
THIRTY-NINE
She made it through the longest day of her life and was now dressed in the Cleopatra costume. Rather ironic, she thought. On the day she was about to walk away from one life, her old life roared back to haunt her.
Thor from Blue Heron tattoo parlor had called shortly after she arrived at the office with news of his research.
He had tracked down the artist, a well-known tattoo artist by the name of Mark Palmer who lived just over the border in Lowell, Massachusetts. Thor had faxed him a copy of the tattoo and Mark remembered it. Unfortunately, he didn’t recall the person for whom he had done the work. He remembered it was a custom job and that he kept paperwork on all his custom jobs. Mark promised to check the records and get back in touch with Thor as soon as possible.
Before Thor hung up with the good news, he reminded her of her promise to get a tattoo. Stunned by the possibility that she may finally have an answer, she had absently agreed.
Now she couldn’t leave.
Many guests, friends, and business associates crowded the large ballroom. The party was in full swing and everyone was having a good time. People were dancing, drinking, talking, and eating. All in costume. Tony had been right about the costumes. They made it a real Halloween party, a celebration and not a business function. Not to mention, that people seemed to let their hair down more while in disguise than at a dinner affair. She had never seen Mr. Jackson from Jackson’s Florals and Herbs dance before. It was somewhat interesting watching him do the herky-jerky with his demure wife, while dressed in Fred and Wilma Flintstone costumes. Paul Booth sat at a table rubbing the balls of his feet after participating in several line dances. Paul was not exactly a small man, but he obviously was having a good time dressed as the Godfather.
David’s costume had surprised her the most, although it shouldn’t have. He came dressed as a farmer, and if she weren’t mistaken, he wore the same pair of denim overalls he had worn the very first day she met him. Oh, he had added to the effect by wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled part way up his forearms, and a cowboy hat with straw sticking out from under the brim.
The ballroom was elegant yet festive. Balloons in every color were weighted down in the middle of every table and at the ends of the buffet lines. Various masks and horn blowers sat at each table setting as party favors along with disposable cameras so the guests could take pictures throughout the evening. It was a grand evening, she mused as she made her way along the outside of the dance floor toward the stage where the band played. It was almost time for her speech, and to give David his birthday present. Before she could do that she had to locate Amy and find out where she had put the box she had given her for safekeeping.
She spotted Tony in the crowd and waved him over. Dressed as Popeye to Amy’s Olive Oyl, Jane thought it the perfect costume. Beefy biceps burst out from white navy shirtsleeves. And yes, one arm sported a tattoo, albeit a Marine Corps emblem and not just the anchor and rope.
“What’s up boss?” he said over the corncob stuck between his lips.
“Where’s your matey?”
“Olive Oyl?”
“Yes. Have you seen Amy? I need to get David’s gift from her.”
Several inches taller than her five-foot eight stature, Tony peered out over the crowd of people. “I see her dark bun wig headed toward the guest suite where we got dressed. You want me to go get the package for you?”
Standing on tiptoe, she saw the red Olive Oyl shirt duck into an alcove.
“No.” She laid a hand on his arm. “You stay and have fun. I’ll get it. When you see me reappear, let the band know it’ll be time for the speech and birthday present.”
“And cake.” He rubbed his hands together while running his tongue across his lips. “The pièce de résistance.”
Jane chuckled. “Such a man.”
“So I’ve been told,” he said as she walked past and inched her way to the guest suite. She had to stop several times to shake hands with guests who wanted to thank her for such a wonderful party and to tell her there were no hard feelings about the emails they had received.
She wanted to believe there were no hard feelings but the whole situation just made her stomach flip over in disgust. It was her fault some nutcase had been able to hack the computers. Everything that had happened in the last week or two had been her fault. One way or another.
“Finally.” She made her way to the guest suite. She slid the door quietly shut. It was then she heard loud talking, angry words.
“She loves you more than she loves me!”
She hated to interrupt but that was Amy’s voice and she wanted to make certain her friend was okay. She eased the door open silently and froze seeing Amy holding a gun on David.
Jane pushed inside the second room and shut the door. Her cell phone rang. She reached inside her pocket and hit the Answer button.
“What the hell is going on?”
Amy whirled on her, aiming the gun in her direction.
* * * *
An hour ago, Jack had dropped him off a block from a salon where Bob would think he was getting his nails done. He hadn’t actually gotten his nails done, although one nail technician had offered to give him a buff for no charge. A buff? How did one buff their nails? He didn’t bother to find out. Instead, he sat around in the office with the owner, a woman by the name of Sally, who had graciously allowed him to hang out while he waited to spring his trap.
Once he showed his badge, Sally hadn’t asked too many questions. The one question she had asked was, “Where are you hiding that badge?” She eyed him up and down with one raised brow.
He only smiled before he turned his back on her and hooked it to his garter.
“I see.” She gave a very unladylike snort. “Have a seat. If you want anything just let me or one of the girls know.”
Cooper sat on one of the stools near the coffee bar that the shop sported. It wasn’t until he spun around to watch the activities and the front window that he realized he was showing the world his wares. “Shit!”
A room full of women broke out in laughter as he crossed his legs and pulled his skirt as low as it would go.
One elderly woman offered a friendly suggestion. “Honey, what a lady does is cross her legs at the ankle and keep her knees closed. That way no one gets a free sneak preview.”
He cleared his throat. “Thank you, ma’am.”
With a short jacket wrapped tight, he stepped onto the street. Immediately his balls took offense and shriveled up. He only hoped they would come out of hiding before spring.
“Brr.” He rubbed his hands up and down his arms as he walked ladylike down the front steps and started in the direction of the restaurant where his date with Bob was to take place.
“Any sign?” he asked into his right breast.
“None so far,” Jack whispered in his ear through the tiny receiver.
“Shit. This better work.”
He paused at the streetlight two blocks from the salon and waited for the Walk signal. Hopping from foot to foot to create friction and warmth he was taken by surprise when someone koshed him on the head. Before he knew what was happening, his jacket was pulled over his head, masking his view. Then he was shoved against a brick wall.
“Bitch.” The man struck Cooper in the face with a fist. “You think you can jilt me and get away with it?” The man pounded his fist into Cooper’s head again. Cooper put up a weak struggle so as not to give himself away.
“After everything I gave you, did for you.” He punched him in the ribs. The blow cracked a rib as the wind was knocked out of him. Cooper regained his footing and tried to reason with the man.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he said in his best female voice.
“You’re all the same. You use a man and then you dump him.”
“I don’t know you,” he implored the mad man with the foul breath. His breath alone would gag a woman. Remembering what the couple from the diner said about a man with bad breath, he knew this was his perp. This was the Street Corner Rapist.
When the man reached under the jacket and closed his hands around his throat, Cooper acted on instinct. He shoved up and under the man’s arms, breaking the hold. Stomping on the insole of the other man, he brought a knee forward, an arm straight out, and connected with his groin and jaw.
Running footsteps echoed
in the cold air as he rammed a forearm against the man’s windpipe and shoved the slimebag against the wall. “You son of a bitch. You’re under arrest.”
Cooper spun him around, shoved his face against the rough brick and yanked his arms behind his back. Jack sprinted down the alley and handed him a pair of cuffs. “Read him his rights.” He slapped on the cuffs.
“Do you understand these rights?” Jack asked as Cooper spun him around and handed him off to one of his beat cops.
“What did I do? I didn’t do anything? It was her fault. All her fault.”
Cooper stopped and spun on Bob, grabbing him by his jacket. “Who, you son of a bitch? Who is to blame? I don’t see anyone else here but you.”
“My ex-girlfriend,” the spineless Bob whimpered. “She used me and then tossed me away. She kept telling me we would get back together if I would keep doing her favors. I did the favors and she still dumped me.”
“So you beat up innocent women?”
“They weren’t innocent. I saw what they were. I saw through their ruses. They were hookers. They deserved what they got.”
“Deserved what they got?” Cooper ground out as he grabbed the man and shoved him against a car. “Why?”
“Because they were just like the others. They turned me down. Hookers aren’t supposed to turn me down.”
Cooper shoved the disgusting excuse for a man away. “Put him in a black and white and take him downtown.”
Cooper turned his back on the man and started to walk off, pulling down his skirt as he went.
“Wait! Wait! You’re not a chick! That’s entrapment.”
He stopped and stalked back before the two beat cops could shove Bob into the back of a squad car. He backed the man into the door of the car, and leaned against his chest. “It’s not entrapment, you stupid fuck. It’s playing by the rules to catch some sick son of a bitch who enjoys beating women. Let’s not forget that you killed some defenseless woman who was just trying to earn a living.”
Shaking with anger, it took every ounce of will power he had not to clock the asshole. “Why Jane? She wasn’t a hooker. She wasn’t standing on the street corner. You attacked her in her own boutique.”
Phish NET Stalkings Page 30
