Heal Me

by Grady, D. R.

  Basically a recollection of her thoughts upon arrival, the discussions were interspersed with rather vivid shots of the victims and showcased the few facts they had. A multitude of theories were tossed around, but they simply didn’t have enough information.

  Shoving a hand through his already disheveled hair, so it now stood in spikes about his head, O’Maley shook his head at something one of the other team members said.

  “We’re missing something,” he said, staring at the folder and his notes laid out before him in methodical detail. The man was such a geek. She didn’t have the energy to heckle him about that fact tonight though.

  “What do you mean we’re missing something?” One of the other detectives demanded.

  “We’re missing this entire case, that’s the problem,” another stated emphatically, which would have ordinarily sent a wave of laughter through the room, but not this evening. Unfortunately, the comment struck a little too close to the truth.

  “O’Maley, what are we missing?” their chief asked from his place at the head of the conference table. The fact he sat in on this meeting only added to the tension in the room. His presence meant this case had taken an ugly turn for the worse.

  Her partner didn’t comment for a few long moments as he stared at his notes. “We know he’s using experimental drugs. Where’s he getting them?” he finally asked.

  “The street?” one of the detectives ventured and TJ suddenly sat up straighter in her chair.

  “He could have a supplier who wants some experimentation done,” someone else added.

  “Or he’s manufacturing them himself,” she exclaimed, finally able to clarify the niggling feeling teasing her when Fred escorted her into the building.

  O’Maley’s brows snapped together and he stared hard at her. “Explain your thought processes, McCully.”

  “We’ve had some trouble in this area in the past with that group called the Organization, right?” she asked instead. All the heads around the table bobbed.

  “What if they’ve got a local lab? We know whatever is being used is an experimental drug, and whether the drug is the same one used each time or not, the effect is still the same, or nearly the same on each woman. But it’s not showing up in other areas yet, much less other states. What if he’s checking strengths and/or variations of the same formula because he’s manufacturing this drug here?”

  O’Maley and the other detectives all wrote furiously.

  Their chief leaned forward in his chair. “What else are you thinking?” he asked, intensity radiating from him.

  “I’m wondering what this creep is looking for? And why? Is he after a designer date rape drug? The current one usually renders the victim unconscious. Is he merely seeking something that causes the woman to still be lucid enough to know what’s happening but not enough for her to recognize her rapist? And what if he’s not doing this just for rape? What if he’s experimenting for other crimes, too?”

  O’Maley’s head turned from side to side and she frowned at him. “What?”

  “He’s getting a thrill out of the rapes,” he said bluntly.

  Cocking her head to the side, TJ stared at him. “Is he?” she asked deliberately.

  The tension in the room heightened and murmuring broke out. The chief cleared his throat, and O’Maley’s eyes narrowed as he watched her.

  “Want to add to that statement, McCully?” the chief directed.

  “Is he getting his jollies from the rapes? Or from the coverage he’s provided because of them? While he’s also learning from valuable experimentation,” she returned and sat back in her chair.

  “He’s certainly enjoying the coverage,” one of the detectives muttered.

  “Can we call this rapist a he, even?” TJ asked, stirring them up even more.

  “What?” one of the older detectives barked.

  “Have we found any semen in these women?” she demanded, looking at each man.

  “No,” O’Maley muttered.

  “We have nothing on this person. We have no semen, which would definitely tell us the gender of the rapist. But we also have no hair, no skin, not even a physical description of who this could be. We can’t even conclusively say this freak is male,” she stated.

  The chief shook his head. “While that’s all true, I still think we’re dealing with a male. Yes, this rapist could be a woman, but that’s highly unlikely.”

  TJ nodded. “I agree.”

  “Then why’d you bring it up?” one of the detectives spit at her.

  “Because we won’t solve this case unless we think outside the box,” O’Maley answered for her.

  “Right,” TJ agreed again.

  “There’s some truth to that,” their chief said, stroking his goatee. “We really can’t conclude anything, although we do have phone conversations from dispatch. The person calling in is definitely male.”

  “That’s true,” she said, “And I thought of that. I believe this person is male, but something still isn’t working.”

  Someone yawned and their chief glanced around the table. Apparently he noticed the weary expressions of nearly everyone in the room. “Okay, everyone, let’s sleep on this and reconvene here in the morning.” He looked at her. “And try thinking outside of the box on this one. We’ve got to get a break or a revelation or something.”

  Chairs around the table scraped. The room quickly emptied. TJ strolled over to where O’Maley sat staring at his notes. He mumbled something, but she was too tired to much care.

  He gathered his papers and stood. She followed him out of the room and stopped abruptly when he did. He parked in front of their over-piled desks. Bending over, he scooped up a large mound of haphazardly stacked file folders and dumped some of them into her arms. She had just enough time to gather them and her wits before he added more folders to those already in his arms before striding down the hall again. She trotted beside him, clutching her folders to her chest, a myriad of questions chasing through her brain.

  “Let’s go home,” he suggested.

  “Good idea.” Her stomach growled. “I really hope your doofus friend left some of whatever Jenna was making when he brought me here.”

  “He will. He’s usually quite polite,” O’Maley returned. He sent her a pointed look. “You might want to take notes. Manners usually come in handy.”

  She sniffed in disdain.

  When they finally reached Jenna’s house, Owen had never been so happy to see a place in his life. Light gleamed merrily from the windows, as though beckoning them inside. She had left the outside light on, which showed they were expected and welcome. He climbed from his SUV, feeling aches in nearly every part of his body. Perhaps a sign he was getting old, but probably more so signs he had worked a really long day.

  Before they reached the door, it was flung open and Jenna stood silhouetted in the frame. He doubted he would ever forget the sight. His heart leapt in his chest and all the cares of the day melted into a puddle at his feet. Which he gladly left in the driveway, stepping over them to Jenna.

  She stood smiling at him with a warm welcome in her eyes. He couldn’t help himself. He tipped her chin up with a finger and touched his lips to hers. Pulling back, he hastily added his armful to McCully’s so he could press Jenna against him. McCully staggered under the unexpected new weight but Fred caught her and took some of the extra files before yanking her through the door.

  “Maybe we should leave the lovebirds alone,” he suggested, slapping the door shut.

  Owen heard McCully say something but he was too busy with the enticing woman in his arms to listen. Jenna twined her arms around his neck and pressed her lips passionately against his and he lost all thought of anything else.

  “I missed you,” she breathed when they came up for air.

  “I missed you, too,” he returned, breathing in her sweetness, wanting more. Needing her. He urged her closer with a tightening of his muscles, and felt her instantaneous reaction. She burrowed against him, as though wa
nting to crawl inside him and he a resonating reaction spiraled through him.

  He kissed her again, wanting to savor every moment, but also wanting her too much to think of what was right and good and acceptable. It probably wasn’t acceptable to ravish her here in view of all the neighbors. While the night crept into the shadows, they were still standing directly under the outside light.

  Releasing her made him groan. She seemed to stifle her own protest and he watched her draw her bottom lip between her teeth.

  She stood staring up at him and he would have gladly given his biggest case away to know what passed through her mind. “Have you had supper?” she asked softly, her eyes scoring his face so delicately. He really wanted to yank her tightly against him, or even toss her over his shoulder and take her somewhere private. This woman did something catastrophic to the civilized side of him.

  “No, I haven’t eaten yet,” he answered, wondering where his willpower had gone as he trailed a finger over her soft bottom lip.

  “We saved you and TJ some dinner,” she said, and he closed his eyes to fully appreciate the hand she swept from his face down over his chest. Her fingers ground into his rib cage, as though she couldn’t bear to not touch him and he was glad. At least he wasn’t the only one having difficulty controlling himself. At least she seemed afflicted with the same malaise.

  “Good,” he answered, not certain where they were in the conversation. Were they having a conversation? He couldn’t remember.

  She took his hand and drew him into the house. Enticing aromas enveloped him in a cloak of hunger he hadn’t realized trailed him. Natural hunger. Food hunger. He doubted he’d ever assuage his hunger for Jenna Fields. She pushed him into a chair beside McCully. Who glared at him.

  “I’m pretty certain making out under a light in full view of the neighbors is at least a misdemeanor.”

  He looked at her empty plate, one that hadn’t contained food yet, and realized the cause for her surly disposition. “Why is Fred taking so long to feed you?” he asked mildly and watched with amusement as she swelled.

  Before she could sputter at him, Jenna whirled around, a foil wrapped package in her hand. “This will be ready to go in a few minutes. It’s still warm,” she said hastily, eyeballing him with a what-are-you-doing look. He settled more comfortably into his chair and sent her what had to be a goofy grin. Something melted on her face, or in her eyes, or maybe both and something sweet dissolved inside him in response.

  McCully kicked him under the table. When he looked at her, she still wore a disgruntled expression, but she wasn’t paying any attention to him. He could feel her legs swinging under the table and realized he’d just gotten in the way of her restless activity. Glancing around the room, he saw no Fred.

  “Where’s Fred?” he asked her expecting fireworks, but received a negligent shrug instead.

  “Don’t know,” she answered and her posture stated don’t-care. He wasn’t fooled.

  “He didn’t mutter anything when you guys came in?”

  Jenna darted him another of those looks, but McCully spoiled his game by clapping a hand over a huge yawn.

  Jenna brought something to the table that smelled divine. When she unwrapped the package, Owen caught a whiff of dough, pizza sauce, and cheese. Ricotta and mozzarella cheeses. Sniffing appreciatively, he watched with something akin to impatience as she divvied up the calzone. McCully seemed beside herself.

  “Jenna, this smells wonderful and looks even better,” she gushed.

  “I thought this might be easier on your tummy, just go easy on the sauce,” she explained. He thought his partner heard, because she wagged her head in what he thought was an answer, but her attention seemed to be solely focused on the inviting food before her.

  “Are Matthews and Coulihan still here?” he asked between bites from his plate. This thing was beyond wonderful. It was decadent and knowing she made it for them warmed him even more.

  “No,” Jenna replied, still busy at the counter.

  “So just you and Fred had dinner together?” Owen asked, not even worried about the prospect. There was no doubt in his mind about either of them.

  “No, Mark and Colleen were here for supper, but they had some errands to run,” Jenna said over the sound of canned whipped cream. Even McCully stopped her attack on the calzone to watch Jenna’s actions with interest.

  “It’s awfully quiet back there,” Jenna said, still with her back to them.

  “We’re wondering what you’re doing,” he answered.

  “Finishing dessert.”

  “Dessert, too?” McCully asked, after she finished swallowing a huge bite of dough and cheese.

  “Yes.” Jenna paused long enough to smile at them.

  “That’s wonderful, but you don’t need to feed us, Jenna,” McCully said.

  “It’s okay. We’re taking turns. Mark and Colleen volunteered to cook tomorrow night and Fred offered you and him for the following day. That way we’ll all pitch in.”

  Owen watched with interest as McCully set her fork down as though her appetite had abruptly fled.

  “I don’t think so,” she said in a stretched voice.

  Turning from the counter with two bowls piled high with whipped cream, Jenna set the creation down in front of them. Owen saw peaches and some sort of cake underneath. His belly did another little flip and he couldn’t help but drag her close for a kiss.

  “No, no, no,” McCully said distantly and they broke apart to look at her. She was staring at her plate as though it had threatened to bite her.

  “Fred figured you’d probably protest, so he said you could each take a day,” Jenna offered from her new position on his lap.

  McCully raised big eyes to them. She shook her head. “I can’t cook.”

  “Ooooh,” Jenna answered, stretching out the word, and turned to look at him. He stared at his cousin in amazement.

  “How can you be related to my mother and not cook?” he asked, confused.

  “It’s okay if you can’t cook, I can,” Fred said, sweeping into the room and spying her dessert, grabbed a spoon. McCully didn’t even fight him when he began to consume the treat at a rather rapid rate.

  “I can bake,” she said, blinking at him. Then her eyes narrowed.

  “Good, we’ll make a good team, because I can’t bake,” Fred said between mouthfuls of cake and peaches. McCully retrieved her dessert, or what was left of the confection before he could finish it off.

  Owen had expected bloodshed, but then realized his partner’s stomach must not be back in complete working order, because she shoved her half eaten calzone at his friend and turned her attention to her dessert. Fred shrugged and began to work on her meal.

  He could practically feel Jenna’s confusion at the entire spectacle. She had settled happily into him, seemingly not in the least bit concerned by the fact they weren’t alone in her kitchen.

  “Do you have more sauce?” Fred asked her.

  Jenna leaned forward and steered a small bowl of red stuff across the table to him.

  “Thanks,” he said and poured the sauce on his plate. Owen noticed his friend kept shooting glances at McCully. Not surprisingly, since he knew he was sending her the same looks and he figured Jenna did the same. His partner had slowed down considerably, only eating about half of what Fred left her. When she shoved the bowl away and dropped her head where the crockery had been, Fred leaped to his feet.

  “Yes, I suspected as much,” he said, digging her out of the chair and into his arms. She didn’t even protest. Instead, her lashes swept down and her head bobbed against his shoulder.

  “I wondered, too,” Jenna said, wriggling off his lap to help Fred. Owen had finished his meal and started on dessert when Jenna reentered the room.

  “Did you settle her?”

  “Yes we did,” Fred answered from behind her, trailing back into the kitchen. He sat at the table and pulled McCully’s half-eaten dessert in front of him. Picking up the spoon she used, he be
gan to eat.

  “You know, Fred, I can make you up another plate of food,” Jenna offered, seating herself close to Owen, as though she couldn’t get enough. He fully understood, since he felt the same way.

  Fred shook his head, “No thanks. This is enough. I figured she’d be a little overwhelmed and fill up quickly, so I thought I’d help out. This is really good cake, by the way,” he offered through a mouthful of the treat.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Sam’s Club special.” She grinned and something flipped inside again. The woman was addicting. He really wanted to taste that grin.

  Chapter 13

  Something of his feelings must have shown on his face because her eyes went from warm to hot in a moment. Which of course soared his temperature. Fred cleared his throat, finished the last of McCully’s cake and cleared out of the kitchen, muttering something about lovebirds.

  Owen took no notice of him. He focused instead on Jenna’s lips and saw her eyes dip to his. She leaned forward and licked the side of his mouth.

  “Mmmmm,” she said, her tongue flicking against his lips and he decided he’d explore too, since they now had the kitchen to themselves.

  “Did I have something on my face?” he whispered, inhaling her scent. Wanting to inhale her.

  “Some whipped cream on the corner of your mouth,” she whispered back, sounding strained.

  “I see.” He wanted to prolong her anticipation. She pouted. Jenna Fields actually pouted. And then she licked her lips. Slowly, seductively, watching him through her eyelashes and he groaned. Then grabbed her, bent her back over his arm, and connected their lips. She hummed. It had to be her, because he didn’t hum.

  “I have a hot tub on the back patio,” she whispered after they pulled apart, finally.

  His temperature already at feverish heights, Owen groaned again. She smiled against his lips and undulated against him. He quivered. Cops don’t quiver, some reproachful voice barked in his brain. But this was Jenna, and she was driving him to feverish heights he had no idea existed until a minute ago. He was pretty certain that even though she was a doctor, she still wouldn’t appreciate his head blowing up in her kitchen.