by Jo Davis
“Yes. We have it reserved once a week, year-round.” The woman smoothed her hand over the lapel of his jacket. “As long as we leave it in good condition, they don’t ask questions.”
“I see.” Stepping back, he gestured to the room. “Introduce me and my lovely wife to your friends?”
“I’d love to.”
Several couples were relaxing in the room, all dressed as though attending a dinner party. No campy D/s dress code for this group—maybe they were much too highbrow for that. Or too inexperienced. Some were close to the wet bar, partaking of the cocktails. Two more were on the sofa, talking and laughing. Another couple was near the fireplace.
Ivana and Giorgio took much pleasure in showing them off, and more than one couple appeared very interested in the newcomers. A doctor and his wife made a point to fawn all over them both, and Daisy thought it was a measure of Shane’s acting skills and patience that he didn’t punch the man. The doc, a good-looking man named Jimmy Glenn, was making it clear he and his wife, Marla, were willing and available to play.
Daisy noted the man spoke for Marla, and she demurred to everything he said. Daisy understood the reasoning behind being a submissive, the personal need, but couldn’t imagine being one herself. Apparently recalling his own role, Shane looked to Daisy.
“You would have to ask my lovely mistress about that,” he said, giving her an adoring smile. “She makes all the decisions.”
The doctor’s eyes widened a bit as he studied her. No doubt he’d cast Shane in the dominant role. “Oh! Well, in that case, would you be agreeable to spending some time with me and Marla?”
“Perhaps, but tonight we’re just getting acquainted,” Daisy told him with a giggle. “I’m afraid Shaney is being punished for his naughty behavior in the spa earlier today. It wouldn’t do to reward him just yet.” She congratulated herself on that stroke of genius. It was the perfect out allowing them to mingle, gain information, but not get caught up in a scene they weren’t prepared to handle.
The man’s face reflected disappointment and understanding. “Yes, of course. A sub mustn’t be allowed to break the rules whenever she—or he—feels like it.”
“Exactly!”
Shaney gave her a look that promised retribution when he got her alone.
“And over here, we have William Wakefield and his wife, Allie.” Ivana took Shane’s arm and steered him toward the couple.
Daisy trailed them in irritation, hating the way that woman kept grabbing Shane. She managed to turn her attention to the waiting couple and make nice as Ivana introduced them.
“Great to meet you.” Daisy smiled at them, noting that their answering greeting seemed a bit pinched. “How long have you two been in the group?”
“For about a month,” William answered, eyeing her. He was nice enough, handsome and fair-haired, but not overly friendly.
“Honey, doesn’t Daisy remind you of Vanessa?”
“I don’t see the resemblance at all. Anyway, this gorgeous couple doesn’t want to hear about that.” He gave an apologetic smile and pulled his wife away.
Daisy pretended ignorance on the topic. “Hear about what?”
Giorgio patted Daisy’s arm in a soothing gesture, appearing the slightest bit distressed and trying not to show it. “We’ve had a few members stop showing up recently, but I’m sure there’s a logical reason.”
So am I. And we’re going to find out what it is.
“Perhaps they decided the scene wasn’t for them,” Shane suggested.
“No, they were into it.” Ivana’s usual happy countenance clouded with worry. “They enjoyed being here, more than anyone I’ve ever seen. They loved sharing their sensual side with the rest of us. Valerie told me herself they felt as though they’d finally found a group that understood them.”
Behind Daisy, William muttered something she couldn’t quite catch. She couldn’t hear the words, but the tone brought her to attention. It almost sounded as though he didn’t like the members they were discussing.
“Let us talk about happier things,” Giorgio declared. The group agreed.
Shane and Daisy were introduced to the rest, all of them fascinating, both in their looks and the dynamics of the relationships. They were everyday people who shared a kink. Lifestyle. Whatever.
Beside Daisy, Jimmy made a noise of disapproval as he stared at the Wakefields. “Don’t know why those two bother to come to our gatherings. They never participate when we all get naked and play.”
“Really?” Daisy shot Shane a meaningful look, which he caught. “Why not?”
“Who knows? I never could fathom why a big pillar-of-the-community type would show up, but then again we’ve all seen on the news just how many of them have a hidden side, eh?”
“Can’t say I’ve heard of William Wakefield,” Shane put in. “What does he do for a living?” At that moment, a buzzing noise sounded, interrupting their conversation. Shane reached for his pocket and glanced at his phone. “Excuse me, would you? I have to take this.”
“Um, Shane,” she said, giving him a warning glare. Too late, he remembered his supposed role.
“I mean, may I take this call, mistress?”
“You may.” Shit, they sucked at this.
He stepped into the hallway, and she tried to act casual. Shane wouldn’t have left unless they had a lead, and she wanted to be gone. After she’d chatted with Jimmy for a few more minutes, Shane walked back inside, pocketing his phone.
“Mistress? I’m afraid I’m not feeling well.”
He had something important, she could tell. “Poor baby. Is it your stomach bug again?”
“Yes. May we come back next week?”
“Of course, dear.” Taking his arm, she found Giorgio. “I’m so sorry, but my sub isn’t feeling so hot. We’d love to come back next week, if you’ll have us?”
“Absolutely! We insist.” Giving her a kiss on the cheek, he waved over Ivana, who expressed dismay at their leaving so soon.
At last they were in the hallway, and her relief matched Shane’s. “Thank God,” she hissed. “I think we narrowly escaped being eaten like hot fudge sundaes.”
“No kidding. Did you see that the other couples were starting to drift off and get cozy with each other? Some were starting to get naked.”
“Yeah, I saw.”
They walked quickly away, scanning their surroundings to be sure they weren’t overheard. Shane waited until they had retrieved his truck from the valet before he risked discussing the call.
“That was Taylor,” he said, pulling down the fancy drive. “They’ve got another body in the water by the dam.”
She frowned. “Okay. But what does Taylor’s case have to do with us?”
“Because it’s not just his case anymore. The victim is Vanessa Hall, one of our missing players.”
“No way,” she breathed. A chill slithered through her veins.
“Oh, yes. Three guesses how she was found.”
She thought for a moment, recalling what she could about the first body. “Naked, with a rosary around her neck?”
“Got it in one,” he said grimly. “And the killer is escalating—this one was tortured before she was murdered.”
“Now what? Are we going to the dam to take a look at the body?”
“Headed there now. Taylor’s waiting for us.”
Daisy mulled over the recent development on the way, mind spinning with possibilities. On the surface, Taylor’s murder case and their missing persons one had seemed totally separate.
And now, all of them were searching for a serial killer.
4
Shane pulled the truck into the parking lot by the dam and shut off the ignition.
Floodlights had been set up to search the area, which was typically pitch dark at night. Police and the forensics unit moved about in the glare, shadows that didn’t belong in the otherwise peaceful landscape, giving the whole scene an eerie vibe.
As did the body Shane could see lying on
the ground not far from the water.
Getting out of the truck, he walked over, Daisy at his side. She fit there, and he liked working with her. Liked pretty much everything about her, but he reminded himself not to get used to having her around. Shoving that depressing thought out of his head, he waved as Taylor glanced up.
“So, our cases meet right in the damned middle,” Shane said, gesturing to the dead woman.
Taylor followed his gaze, and sighed. “Ain’t that a kick in the teeth? I had one murder, and suddenly we have the potential for several more.”
“Vanessa and her sister were the first ones from the club to disappear three weeks ago,” Daisy reminded them. “But the body is fresh. This means the killer is holding them somewhere, and I’m guessing it’s someplace close by and convenient.”
“How do we know this is Vanessa?” Shane asked, studying the woman.
The naked victim was lying on her back, arms and legs sprawled. Dark hair was spread around her face, wet and tangled from the river. Her eyes were open, staring at a horror she could no longer suffer. Ligature marks were visible around her wrists and ankles, as were cuts made from a knife or other sharp object. Bruising on her torso may or may not have indicated internal bleeding. The signs of abuse were sickening.
“I gave Chris a call. He said Vanessa had a tattoo of a serpent on her ankle, which this victim does.” Taylor pointed to the spot where the tattoo could be seen, then dug out his phone. “Her picture matches the one Chris texted to me, too. The ME should be able to confirm her identity without much problem.”
Shane and Daisy took turns studying the photo on Taylor’s phone. The vibrant, smiling young lady in the picture looked to be the same person as their corpse. Death, however, had robbed that lovely spark that made her human, leaving her a cold, waxy shell. It always angered Shane to see such a waste of a beautiful life. No matter how many cases he closed, the desire to see the monster responsible either dead or behind bars never waned.
Daisy’s musing cut into his thoughts. “What’s the significance of the rosary, I wonder?”
Taylor shrugged. “Maybe it’s a sign that he cares about her. Could be about cleansing, or seeing her to heaven.”
“Or it could be he’s just a nut bag,” Shane muttered.
“That, too.”
“Or the killer could be a she,” Daisy said slowly. Both men stared at her.
“What makes you say that?” Shane asked curiously.
“Look at her hands.” Crouching, she pointed without touching the victim’s hand. “Her nails are perfect, and recently done.”
Taylor got a closer look. “How do you know it was recent?”
“See her cuticles? The nail polish goes all the way back, so it never had a chance to grow out. The polish isn’t chipped, either. If Vanessa had been struggling, she would’ve messed up her nails.”
“Then it could be that after torturing and killing her, the murderer expressed some care and remorse by making her presentable. Pretty smart, sugar,” Shane praised her.
“Just because the killer made her pretty doesn’t mean it’s a woman. Many killers focus on their victim’s appearance after the murder.”
“I was just speculating out loud, that’s all.” Daisy shrugged.
“Or the killers could be a team,” Taylor suggested. “One did the torturing and killing, one the aftercare.”
Shane nodded. “Makes sense. But what’s with the change in MO? Except for the wrists, the first victim had no marks anywhere else on her body, unlike this one.”
“The ME said Nikki Thompson was suffocated,” Taylor said grimly. “Probably with a pillow or something similar.”
“That obviously didn’t satisfy our murderer. He’s become more brutal in his treatment of his captives, which means he’s losing control.” Shane paused. “Which doesn’t fit with the careful presentation before dumping them in the water. I’m starting to think you’re right, and we’re dealing with two killers.”
“Once we rule out the usual suspects, you never know,” Daisy said, standing. She looked at Taylor. “Is Chris running through Vanessa’s personal contacts?”
“As we speak. He’s burning some midnight oil, so maybe he’ll have something for us to pursue in the morning. Not much more we can do tonight.”
They said their goodbyes and Shane drove Daisy home, taking as much time as possible. When he pulled up into her driveway, he resisted the urge to yank her across the seat and take her mouth, just barely.
“Here you go.”
“It’s been interesting.” She smiled wickedly. “Some parts more than others.”
He knew she was referring to the fun they had after the massage. “Agreed.”
“Good night, Shane.”
“ ’Night.”
He watched as she got out and made her way up the sidewalk to her door. Any second, he expected her to turn around and beckon him inside. Just like that, with a crook of her pretty finger, she’d have him in her bed for the night. But she didn’t.
As he began the lonely drive home, he didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
• • •
Morning came all too soon.
Shane rolled over in bed and fumbled until he found his phone, shutting off the alarm he’d programmed to get his ass moving. He’d wanted to make it into the station by seven, and now that seemed too stupid for words. Once he’d gone to bed he hadn’t been able to sleep for staring at the ceiling, thinking about Daisy. What it had been like to curl up next to someone all night. Wake next to her warm body in the morning.
To laugh, make love, eat breakfast.
“God, I’m such an idiot.”
Groaning, he pushed out of bed and stumbled for the shower. He had to stop thinking about her in terms of a lover. She was, at best, a friend. A friend he had slept with, scratching an itch.
You know what they say, old boy—scratch an itch and it’ll just get worse.
After a shower and a mug of coffee, his attitude was improved but not by much. Pouring more of the dark brew into a travel mug, he hauled himself into his truck and headed into work.
When he arrived, he was surprised to find Chris working at the conference room table instead of his desk. Then again, the murders were no doubt top priority now that they knew the first body was no isolated case, so the captain must’ve given Chris use of the larger space.
“Hey, cuz,” he said, walking in and sliding into a seat across from the other man.
“Hey yourself.” His cousin rubbed at tired, bloodshot eyes and gave him a wan smile that definitely lacked his usual sparkle.
“Did you stay here and pore over the case all night?” He shook his head. “Good way to burn yourself out.”
“Says he who’s pulled an all-nighter many times. Anyway, we’ve got three missing people who’re gonna be in a world of hurt if we don’t find them, fast. If they aren’t already.”
Hard to argue that. “Any progress?”
“Maybe.” Chris tapped a sheet of paper and shoved it across the desk. “I’ve got printouts of Nikki Thompson’s and Vanessa Hall’s records from their cell phones. I’ve checked and double-checked every single call coming in and going out. The first thing is what you don’t see—there were no calls made between Nikki and Vanessa.”
“The women didn’t know each other, then.”
“It would appear so. The next thing is the number I’ve highlighted on both of the women’s records.”
Shane studied the phone number, brows furrowed. “The number appears only once on Nikki’s incoming calls, but it appears dozens of times on Vanessa’s record, both incoming and outgoing.” He looked up at his cousin. “Who does it belong to?”
“Vanessa’s boyfriend, Mark Weaver.”
“Okay, that’s interesting,” he said. “What could that mean? One phone call hardly indicates Mark was cheating, or that he and Nikki even knew each other.”
“I don’t know what to make of it, either.”
&nb
sp; Shane mulled over the information for a minute. “What about employment? Does Mark work at the same place as any of our players?”
Chris shuffled his notes. “No. Mark is an IT consultant for a big firm in Nashville, and Vanessa and her sister are trust-fund girls. Dan Peterson is an attorney, Jason Richards a stockbroker. And get this—Nikki Thompson was a church secretary at Lamb of God here in town. Weird, right?”
Shane’s brows rose. “Very, considering the after-hours activities of the rest of the group. What else do we know about Mark?”
“Not much, except he and Vanessa lived together. He was the one who reported her missing and he’s dropped by constantly every week.” Chris winced. “Until early this morning, when Taylor went to their house to give him the bad news.”
“Wait a second. I thought Vanessa and her sister lived together?”
“I assumed the same thing at first. They were close, but Valerie has her own place. Mark usually went with Vanessa to their little country club play group, and Valerie would meet them to play with whatever unattached guy was there. Or she’d play with a couple.”
Shane sat back in his chair. “Wish I’d known this last night.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
“Probably not. I just don’t like loose ends.”
“Me, either. I take it Mark didn’t show at the club group?”
“I wasn’t introduced to anyone named Mark, but I wouldn’t expect him to be there under the circumstances,” Shane said. He fell silent for a few more moments, thinking. “So, Mark knew the other missing members of the group, but may or may not have known Nikki. What the hell?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself all night,” Chris said tiredly, raking a hand through his dark blond hair. “In the spirit of loose ends, I say we give the bereaved boyfriend a call and invite him in for a chat.”
“I say that’s a great idea.”
“What bereaved boyfriend? What did I miss?” Daisy stood in the doorway of the conference room, looking between them for an explanation. Taylor appeared over her shoulder and echoed her second question. Ten minutes later, they’d given their colleagues the rundown on what Chris had found.
