Ben let his eyebrows rise and his eyes linger on that fire starter. He made sure to look speculative when he turned his attention back to Gavin.
Speaking of fire—he was betting Gavin had a short fuse.
“Did you know your neighbor fed cats?” he asked.
He shrugged carelessly, his indifference obvious. “There were always bowls out on the deck.”
“Any of the cats friendly?” Ben said it as if he was just making conversation.
“Gavin’s allergic to cats,” his mother offered. “We can’t have one.”
“Dogs?”
“We’ve mostly lived in rentals,” Lynne said nervously.
“I see.” Ben let the silence draw out. “Joel mentioned that particular cat was really friendly. Always winding around his legs when he walked from the bus stop.”
He waited for an outburst from Lynne. Something along the lines of, Then how could he do something so awful? But she didn’t say a word. He turned his head to see her staring fixedly at her hands.
She knows, he thought, what had been his own near-certainty solidifying. God, what would it be like to have your own child be utterly without conscience, capable of such monstrous acts? Was shielding him from consequences what any parent would do? But Ben didn’t believe it, even though he could imagine how wrenching such decisions could be.
He asked questions about the Sunday night when the murder had taken place. Gavin claimed to have hung with friends, then worked on a paper for school. He guessed he’d gone to bed by ten. “I mean, school starts really early.”
How conscientious. He hadn’t wanted to have to hide a yawn from his first period teacher.
“You do chores here at home?” Ben asked.
“Like what?”
“Say, do your own laundry.”
A flush rose on his cheeks. Nope, not stupid. “Mom does all of ours together.”
Ben turned enough to smile at her. “Is he known to throw a load in now and again?”
To her credit, she looked perplexed. She didn’t realize her darling boy would have been saturated with Clement Rowe’s blood after battering him to death.
“I suppose I might ask him to if he came in muddy from a soccer game or something,” she said uncertainly.
“Oh, well.” Careful to sound vague, Ben stretched and rose to his feet. “Just something to think about.” He let some steel show when he nodded at Gavin. “We’ll be talking again. Mrs. Carter, thank you.”
She fluttered around him and showed him out. Gavin didn’t so much as move a muscle. He seemed...stunned. A little scared? Ben could only hope.
Departing, he was fully satisfied. He’d put the vicious little shit on notice that he was a person of interest—and he’d stoked that temper. The ability to keep it tamped down was unlikely to be one of his sterling qualities, and he was, after all, a teenager. Sixteen-year-olds weren’t good at impulse control.
And if you’re wrong? he asked himself. Then no harm done, he decided. Killer or no, Gavin was a vicious little shit who needed to find out that not everybody was as blind to his behavior as his mommy was.
* * *
EVE ASSUMED JOEL’S attorney would have let her know if she’d learned anything significant, but she called her law office anyway, only to learn that Vivian was likely to be in court all day.
Even though she had nothing new to tell him, Eve squeezed in a visit to Joel, who looked utterly defeated, his massive shoulders rounded, his eyes making her think of a cowering puppy.
He liked Ms. Wilson, he said. He’d only seen her the once, Friday afternoon. “She said the evidence the police have isn’t good enough to convict me. I think she was just trying to make me feel better.”
“No, Joel. The bat in your locker is such an obvious setup.”
He lifted his head, his expression despairing. “But who would do that?”
Eve shook her head. She couldn’t even begin to hint at what she believed to be the explanation. It sounded so outlandish. No wonder Ben had been unwilling to seriously consider Gavin as a suspect. Why would he? The killer could just as well be any other neighbor who had disliked Mr. Rowe—and it sounded as if they all did—or someone from his past. The vandalism, even the cat, might be unrelated to the murder.
Yeah, right.
She left dissatisfied and not sure she’d raised Joel’s spirits at all.
She did several home visits and made calls to find out whether a mother who had been allowed to retain custody of her two children was actually attending AA meetings and counseling. Eve had had grave doubts about giving her another chance, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that the woman had attended three AA meetings that week alone and the counselor felt her attitude was good and they were really making headway.
Eve reached her father, too, who said in surprise, “Your mom didn’t say anything about an argument. At bedtime she told me she’d gotten some progress done on a quilt she promised by Friday. She might not have been as upset by whatever you said as you think she was.”
Call Mom.
And say what? I didn’t mean a thing I said? I did, but I’m sorry I said it? You fell and hit your head on the corner of the cabinet and anything you thought you heard was a delusion?
She attended what proved to be a brief dependency hearing, the kind she liked best, when the judge ruled the court supervision at an end because parent and child—in this case, a father and son—had completed all requirements and were doing well. Sometimes she still harbored doubts at this point. Too often she was right, and six months or a year later, the kids were again abandoned, or a school counselor called to express concern because they were dirty and hungry—or trying to hide bruises. This time, Eve was confident. She shook the dad’s hand and hugged the boy, who blushed but looked pleased anyway.
At almost six o’clock, she walked into her apartment—her own space—feeling a relief akin to letting a heavy pack slide from her shoulders. It didn’t take her five minutes to shed heels, hose and suit, and change to black yoga pants and a faded, saggy sweatshirt that had once belonged to her father. Yanking the pins from her hair took a couple more minutes. She brushed it and chose to loosely braid it.
Then she pretended she had an appetite and went to the kitchen to consider possibilities.
She had the freezer door open and was letting cold air pour out wastefully—she could hear her mother’s tut tut—while she studied the contents when her intercom buzzed.
“Wonderful,” she mumbled, and closed the freezer. “Please don’t be Mom, or—” Her imagination boggled. Friends might drop by on a weekend, but not usually on a weeknight. They all worked full-time plus, too.
She pushed the button. “Yes?”
“Eve, it’s Ben. I’d like to talk to you.”
She bumped her head against the wall. Did she have to do this?
Yes. For Joel’s sake.
She buzzed him in rather than answering, looked down at herself in alarm and tore into the bedroom to switch out the sweatshirt for a drapey red sweater. A girl had some pride.
She whisked back to the living room just as he knocked.
As he stepped in, she stared in shock at him. “You don’t look so good” were the first, not very clever words out of her mouth.
“Thanks,” he said wryly.
“I mean it.” He’d aged a decade or more. “What’s wrong?”
Those blue eyes, bloodshot, met hers. “What do you think is wrong, Eve?”
Her knees sagged and she sank onto an ottoman as terrible possibilities raced through her mind. He was a police officer. Mom, Dad. Bailey? Seth? That would be bad because of Bailey. But...why would Ben be the one to let her know?
“Tell me.”
He shook his head and gave a short, gruff laugh. “You really don’t get it.�
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She gaped at him. He was talking about them?
“I hurt you. I’m having a hard time dealing with that.”
Her back straightened. “Why? It’s not as if you really know me.”
“I do.” Ben sounded unutterably weary. He nodded toward the sofa. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
Before you fall down, she thought, saying hastily, “No. Of course not.”
He sat. She stayed where she was.
After a moment, he shook his head a little. “I came to update you.” He managed to sound almost dispassionate. The cop instead of her lover.
“If you haven’t released Joel—and someone would have called me if you had—what’s to update? Seemed to me your investigation was done.”
“No, Eve, it wasn’t. I had to arrest Joel after finding the bat. But, contrary to your opinion, I did listen to you. I may have said something stupid—I did say something stupid—but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect you and your instincts. I know you’d never judge a kid because of the color of his hair or anything superficial. I was... I don’t know what. Feeling defensive? Trying to think of a reason you were wrong about what your gut was telling you?” He grimaced. “I don’t know,” he repeated.
Emotions rose in a flood tide beyond her ability to control. Spun every which way, she couldn’t think.
“I don’t understand.”
“I shouldn’t be telling you what I’ve learned, but I’m going to anyway.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. The shadows in his eyes were darker than ever. “I’ve been looking into the two boys’ histories.”
“Two?” she echoed, stunned.
“I’m here to say your instinct about Gavin Shaffer was right on. I talked to teachers and coaches both here and in Everett. Some didn’t see any deeper than the smart, good-looking kid. But there were a few who didn’t want to come right out and say anything that could be actionable, but hinted. He made them uneasy, too, at the very least.”
He kept talking, told her what he’d learned from former neighbors of Lynne and her son. About the smashed greenhouse, the keyed car, about a suspicious fire. And then there were the pets gone missing or gruesomely killed.
“I’ve been back to talk to him. Made him nervous.”
“You think he murdered Mr. Rowe.”
“I can’t prove anything yet,” he warned her. “All I’ve found are red flags. A forest of them.”
She was going to cry. He’d listened to her. He believed her.
“Excuse me for a minute.” She shot to her feet and raced for the bathroom. Safely locked in, she covered her face with her hands and cried. Silently, and not for long, but she needed the release. Then she splashed cold water on her face and used makeup to try to hide the ravages before she went back out.
She could see that she’d failed. Ben was on his feet, his gaze penetrating, devastated. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Eve.”
“No.” She went back to the ottoman. “I’m sorry, I just needed a minute. I’ve been...scared for Joel.” And missing you, but she wasn’t going to say that yet. Maybe not ever. She didn’t know yet.
He stood looking down at her. His hands closed into fists before he seemed to deliberately loosen them. After a moment, he sat back down without his usual easy grace.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Keep the pressure on him.” He hesitated. “That’s one reason I want Joel to stay where he is for now. Gavin can’t get to him there.”
Horrified, she said, “You actually think...?”
“I don’t know, but if we’re right about him, he’s already escalated to killing. He’s used to sliding out of trouble, partly because his mother protects him.”
Eve had met parents like that before. Most refused to believe their little darlings were capable of ugly behavior.
“Is there any way he can find out where you live?” She had to ask.
“I’m not listed, but anything’s possible. Harder to get into an apartment, though, and I’m lucky because the parking is gated. Not to say he couldn’t slip in behind a car, but if anyone vandalizes my vehicle, I’ll know who did it.” Gaze somber, he said, “You be careful, too, Eve. He might be smart enough to trace my lack of gullibility back to you.” Ben grunted. “He’d even be right.”
“How will you ever prove he did it and Joel didn’t?”
“I started at the high school today. If I have to talk to every damn kid at that school, I will. Somebody had to have seen him put the bat in Joel’s locker. Or heard him brag about it, but in Gavin’s case—” He seemed to mull that over. “No. I think he hugs his pleasure to himself because he thinks he has everyone conned.”
“He smirks,” she heard herself say flatly.
“He does.”
They sat and looked at each other for a minute. Those extra lines carved into his face made her want to put soothing hands on him. Stroke his face, knead away the tension she could feel from ten feet away.
“What I said to you was crap,” he said explosively, half rising to his feet before forcing himself to sit down again. “You’re beautiful, and it breaks my heart to know you don’t believe anyone really loves you. Then what did I do but poke you where it hurts most. I’d give anything to be able to take it back.”
Her mouth trembled as she tried to smile. “I think you just did.”
This time when her eyes filled with tears, she all but dove across her small living room into his arms, sending him sprawling back along the sofa. But those arms had closed around her, so tight she might not be able to breathe, and he pressed his cheek to her head and said brokenly, “Eve. God. I’m sorry. Eve. Please.”
When she managed to lift her face to his, his mouth closed over hers, hot and hard and frantic.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THEY TORE AT each other’s clothes. Never did get completely naked, just enough. Ben tried to be tender. Eve deserved that, but his need felt desperate, and hers seemed to be, too. His hands shook and he knew he gripped her too hard, but, God, he had to keep hold. She cried out when he sucked her breasts, and used her teeth on his neck and earlobe.
He was about to come without ever getting inside her, but she must have been close to the same because she was whimpering. Since she was on top, she was the one to take him inside her. The feeling of her body, wet, silky, tight, closing around him was indescribable. It took him a couple of thrusts to think, I’m not wearing a condom. Pleasure so acute it was agony made speech impossible.
And then the ripple of her convulsions squeezed him and he couldn’t have stopped if there’d been a gun to his temple. Her head tipped back, she screamed his name as he lost it. He wasn’t watching the fireworks, he was one of the rockets, shooting into the sky and bursting into all those nameless colors, sparkling against the velvet black until he floated out of existence. He wasn’t sure he hadn’t passed out for a microsecond.
Eve slumped down onto him, seeming boneless. He’d pulled out her braid at one point, and now masses of black curls covered her face and spilled over his chest. His heart felt as if it was going to jackhammer right out of his chest. His vision remained blurry. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to suck in enough air.
“Wow,” he finally mumbled.
Her head bobbed—he thought, and hoped she hadn’t meant to shake it.
Ben regained enough strength to lift his hand and smooth it over that glorious mane of hair and down lower, to the silky skin of her back and buttocks. He became fascinated by each tiny knob strung together to form her spine. Delicate, like all the rest of her.
He winced, thinking about what they’d just done. It hadn’t been all him, but...damn. He’d been trying to tell her without actually using the word that he loved her, and instead he’d come unglued and been on her like a rabid wolf.
Except...he tipped his head a little to one side, feeling a sting. Then became aware of another, and another. Teeth marks, he was pretty sure. On his back...fingernails.
He worked his mouth before trying to form more words. “Hey,” he got out.
“Oh, my.” Eve lifted her head and used one hand to push her hair back. She looked as dazed as he felt. “That was...it was...”
He didn’t share his vision of being a rocket exploding in the night sky. “Amazing,” he supplied.
“I guess so.” Pink was already heating her cheeks even before she focused on his neck and her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. I did that?”
He touched the wound that had her transfixed. “What, that?” Suddenly, he was grinning, a big, loopy, unbelievably happy grin. “That was the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever felt.”
Eve giggled and laid her head back down on his chest.
After a minute, he said, “I didn’t use a condom.” Normally, that would have been a statement to strike terror in his heart, but instead it was only an observation. God help him, he liked the idea of her pregnant.
She stirred. “I’m on the pill.”
He gently squeezed her ass. “I didn’t mean to do this.”
Her muscles tightened. “Make love to me, you mean?”
“Well, I didn’t think I’d have the chance.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I didn’t deserve to have the chance.”
“No, that’s not true.” She lifted her head again, this time propping a forearm on his chest to brace herself so she could look down at him. “I think I overreacted. I have a way of doing that,” she said, sounding both sad and rueful.
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