Siren's Secret

by Debbie Herbert

  He kissed her, slow and tender. She ran her hands up and down the strong, sinewy muscles of his back. It seemed like a year since they had first made love. But this time it would be even better, with no lies between them as they joined bodies.

  Tillman rested a large palm over her breast and tugged at her nipple through the silk of her thin T-shirt. He lowered his head and sucked on the raised nub, making her whimper. She reached down and cupped his erection bulging against the uniform pants. He tore his mouth from her breast.

  “Let’s go to my cabin,” he whispered urgently. “It’s only five minutes from here.”

  She wanted to suggest the couch and then thought better of it. She didn’t want any interruptions from her cousins. And she and Tillman deserved the privacy and comfort of his cabin since their first time had been on a narrow massage table in a room that reeked of chlorine.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “But what is the officer who’s watching our house going to think?”

  Tillman frowned. “He saw me enter your house at three o’clock in the morning. News of our affair will be all over town in about three hours.”

  “Will it get you in trouble?” she asked anxiously.

  “We’re arresting Pellerin as early as tomorrow. That will overshadow everything else.”

  Shelly bit her lip. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

  “The hell you say.” Tillman suddenly picked her up off her feet in one fell swoop.

  Shelly shrieked, lighthearted and happy. “You he-man,” she said, playfully swatting his chest.

  Jet’s voice from the doorway was a douse of ice water.

  “Shouldn’t you be out sheriffing or catching a killer or something?” Jet glared at Tillman.

  Shelly groaned as Tillman let her back down.

  “A pleasure seeing you, too,” he said irritably. “We were just leaving.”

  Shelly quickly herded him out the back door. “Do you think the two of you will ever call a truce?” she asked with a rueful shake of her head.

  “I doubt it.” He drew her to his side as they made their way to his car. “But let’s not waste time discussing Jet.”

  “Agreed. Will you turn on the siren so we can go faster?” she teased.

  “The siren’s had enough of a workout tonight. We’ll get there soon.”

  But the drive to his cabin seemed three times longer than usual. He worried Shelly would lose her passionate fervor, or come to her senses about giving him another shot and insist he take her home.

  Tillman made it in record time, abruptly stopping the car at the end of a dirt road and kicking up a swirl of white sand in the process. The rustic cabin, built twenty years ago by his dad, looked even more primitive than usual when he saw it through Shelly’s eyes. Made of split-hewn logs and capped off with a tinned roof, the only thing the cabin had going for it at the moment was privacy. Dense pine trees blocked out what little light shone from the moon.

  He needn’t have worried Shelly’s ardor would cool during the drive. She scrambled out of the car and unerringly made her way to the front porch without benefit of a flashlight. As he unlocked the door, she ran her fingers down the two fishing poles leaning against the porch railing.

  “One of these must belong to Eddie?”

  “Right. We always have a good time when I can get away from work. It’s one of the few things he enjoys doing outdoors.”

  The door gave way with a loud squeal. Shelly brushed past him and entered. Before he could flip on the light switch, she again made her way through darkness.

  Tillman flipped on the switch and she blinked at the sudden light. She looked around the tiny space, spotted an open door to a bedroom, then walked directly to it and sank down on the mattress, beautiful as a goddess with her long hair fanned beneath her willowy body. Sea-green eyes glittered at him with passion, wide and dark against her luminous skin. Tillman gazed down, hungry with need, before placing his body atop hers. His erection pressed against her thighs and every nerve in his body screamed for release.

  Tillman rolled to the side, unbuckled his gun belt and put it on the bedside table. He started unbuttoning his shirt, not wanting a scrap of clothing between them.

  “Let me do that.”

  Shelly slowly undid each button. Tillman pulled out of the shirt and white T-shirt underneath. She explored his chest and then her hands dropped lower to his abs. He tried to hurry the undressing, hands at the zipper of his pants. But Shelly pushed his hands away and unzipped the pants slowly over his straining bulge, smiling in satisfaction at his low moan. She pushed down the waistband of his white boxer briefs and he kicked out of them impatiently until he was at last naked.

  She slid down his torso, feathering kisses along his abs before taking him in her mouth. Her tongue lapped the smooth velvet of his engorged shaft and darted into the head’s cleft. Tillman moaned and ran his hands over her scalp as she licked and sucked.

  “Stop, it feels too good,” he said in a gruff, harsh voice. “It’s your turn.” He peeled off the thin T-shirt and shorts, leaving her deliciously naked. He kissed the side of her neck and licked the salty sweetness of her skin. Down he went, giving each nipple a cursory lick as his mouth went lower still, kissing her belly button until at last he reached her hot core.

  Shelly bucked, impatient for him to enter. Instead, Tillman shifted his mouth to her thighs, pressing hot kisses against the sensitive flesh. Shelly protested, guiding his face back to where she wanted it.

  His tongue laved the folds of her core before entering its sweetness. Shelly arched her back and moaned, right on the precipice. When his mouth moved away, she groaned in protest. Tillman reached for a condom and tore open the packet.

  She stopped his hand holding the rubber.

  “I want to put it on you.”

  As she gently rolled the condom down his hard, straining erection, Tillman sucked in his breath.

  He entered her moist opening with a full thrust. “Yes,” he groaned. “Oh, God, yes.”

  Sweet Jesus. It was even better than the first time they’d made love. Shelly bucked her hips and met him with every thrust and he strained to hold his own release until her body stiffened, ready to burst.

  Now.

  Shelly had never experienced such intense need. Her body convulsed and she was swept away to new heights. Waves of joy pulsed all the way down to her curled toes. Dazed, she opened her eyes and watched Tillman’s half-lidded eyes, his face contorting with his own release, now that he had brought her over the edge.

  “I love you.” The words came unbidden, her emotions of tenderness and awe equal to the physical passion that had rocked her moments ago.

  Tillman rolled onto his back, tucking her against him. She breathed in his masculine scent, felt his heart pounding against her cheek. She wrapped an arm around his waist and sighed as he stroked her hair.

  Shelly never, ever wanted this moment to end, had never enjoyed coming together with a man she loved and who accepted everything about her. It was liberating and sweet and unbearably tender. The only thing in the world that existed was their combined breath, the comfort of his hands in her hair and the stillness of the dark night outside the cabin.

  Tillman turned on his side and gave her a lopsided grin. “Everything about you is perfect.” He stroked a finger down her cheek. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

  She returned the grin. “You’re pretty damn fantastic yourself. In fact—” she maneuvered her hand to cup his balls “—I can’t get enough of you.”

  Tillman threw a hand over his face. “Are you trying to kill me, woman? I’m not the eighteen-year-old kid I used to be.”

  She laughed and climbed on top, straddling him between her thighs. “I’ll grant you a few minutes’ reprieve, but no more. You’re too damn exciting for your own good.”

  He sighed. “Never let it be said I got out of bed leaving a woman unsatisfied. But,” he added with regret, “I’m supposed to relieve Donnell on his stakeout at six.” He shifted t
o his elbows and glanced at his watch. “Shit. It’s already ten till six.” He gave her a quick pat on the rear. “We’ve got to go, babe.”

  “I understand.” Shelly slid off him and helped gather his clothes lying on the floor. “Duty calls. Just promise you won’t wait too long before we make love again.”

  “That will be the easiest promise I’ve ever had to keep.”

  They quickly dressed and she noticed him eyeing her curiously. He ran a finger across a few pale scars on her arms and shoulders. “What really happened?” he asked softly.

  “An encounter with a fisherman’s trotline during one of my first swims. It wasn’t so bad,” she reassured him after he winced. “And not near as scary as the time I got entangled in a tuna net. I quickly learned to be more careful and to always carry a knife belted around my waist.”

  He frowned. “I don’t like the idea of you being underwater alone. How often do you swim in the ocean anyway?”

  “Since meeting up with Pellerin, I’ve only been once. And it was just a few minutes. Normally, I swim a couple of times a week. When the moon is full, the compulsion to change is hard to resist.”

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Seems like it would be dangerous. Not just the danger of being seen by men, but from sharks and stingrays, too.”

  “They have a healthy respect for us, but have been known to turn on mermaids, especially if we’re bleeding from an injury.” She laughed at his pained expression. “It’s no more dangerous than you driving a car every day on land.”

  It didn’t occur to Shelly until she returned home that Tillman didn’t also say he was in love after her own declaration. She shook her head. The words didn’t matter. She knew what was in his heart. When they were alone, his gorgeous gray eyes gave away his feelings, as did every caressing stroke of his large, strong hands. And if he didn’t realize he was in love yet, he would. She would give him so much love that Tillman would be unable to resist doing the same.

  Chapter 15

  The secrets that you keep

  Will eat away at you

  Make you scream, make you weep

  Until it must burst through.

  Despite a couple cups of coffee and a Red Bull energy drink, by late afternoon the dull throbbing in his temples made paperwork more of a drudge than usual. Tillman pushed away an incident report from the county correctional facility and leaned back in the chair, propping his feet on the desk.

  But all in all he had no room for complaint today. His mind drifted to last night with Shelly, her long hair fanning over his naked body, the feel of her....

  “Don’t need to ask why you’ve got that goofy grin on your face.”

  Tillman quickly shoved the report back under his nose, ignoring Carl’s jab.

  “It’s all over the office that you picked up Shelly Connors at three in the morning.”

  “And you call women gossips,” Tillman said, signing the report and pulling another out of the in-box.

  Carl laid a knife-nicked hand over the paperwork. “Be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I know what I’m doing.” Tillman allowed a touch of exasperation in his voice. “I’m not a kid anymore, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “I know, I know.” Carl withdrew his hand and sank into his usual seat across the desk. “Curse of the old to always think of adults as the kids they once were.”

  “No need for the warning. I know you think I shouldn’t get involved with Shelly until the murder cases are solved. But I spoke with my contacts at the crime lab this morning and they assured me all the evidence will be processed by close of day. By tonight, I plan to have Pellerin arrested and his house thoroughly searched.”

  And Carl, being Carl, had more to say on the subject, after all. “Most of your case against him, so far, is based on evidence from Shelly Connors. Yet one of our men witnessed Connors throwing the supposed knife used by the killer out in her own yard. Explain that.”

  “Pellerin’s been stalking Shelly and her cousins. When she found the knife in her house she panicked and tried to get rid of it.” It sounded flimsy, but it would have to do.

  Carl finally let it go. “Moving on, then, I should tell you we’re short a couple of officers today. David Ott’s wife had the baby last night, so he’ll be out at least a few days, and Hollinger called in sick with the flu. That doesn’t leave us enough manpower to keep a tail on Pellerin.”

  Tillman sighed. “We can’t leave jail duty short, too dangerous. It looks like our suspect is a night owl anyway and sleeps during most of the day. He should stay put a few hours longer.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I’ll drive by a few times.”

  Tillman’s office phone rang and he recognized the caller ID number. “It’s Sam. Don’t leave. Maybe he’s got some information on the Alice Hargrove case that connects it to Pellerin. I’ll put him on speakerphone.”

  Sam got right to the point. “We’ve got a man in custody, name of Hoyt Snowden, who claims he killed Jolene Babineaux and China Wang.”

  “What?” Tillman sprang to his feet. “No freaking way.”

  “We went to his house this morning after receiving information he was at the bar where Hargrove was last seen and that he was one of the last persons she spoke with.”

  Tillman picked up the case file notes. “I’m on my way over. Give me thirty minutes.”

  “Figured you’d want to talk to him yourself,” Sam said. “And a word of warning—news of this confession has already leaked to the press and it’s a circus in front of headquarters. You’ll face a barrage of TV cameras getting in.”

  * * *

  Sam wasn’t lying.

  Tillman called him on the cell phone. “Any way to sneak in the back?” he asked.

  “Nope,” Sam said immediately. “We’ve tried that. There are a few reporters staked at the back door, too. You try that entrance and they’ll alert the others who will be there before you can set foot inside.”

  Might as well get moving and get this over with.

  Tillman took long, purposeful strides, head lowered, as he crossed the parking lot and headed into the Mobile Police Department building, where his old partner met him in the lobby.

  “You should have given a few television interviews. Keeping your face in the public eye might help you with the election next year.”

  “Reelection is the last thing on my mind right now.”

  The two men shook hands and smiled. Sam motioned down a hallway to their right. “I believe you know the way.”

  “Snowden can’t be my killer,” Tillman said as they walked to the interrogation room. “I’ve got my man nailed. I’m expecting a call from my deputy any moment that the lab results confirmed my suspect.”

  “Why did you come, then?”

  “It’s possible my killer had an accomplice. Could be Snowden.”

  “Or Snowden could be a total mental case,” Sam added. “False confessions happen a lot with high-profile crimes.”

  “Has he admitted any involvement with Hargrove’s disappearance?”

  “Says he was drunk that night and probably killed her but can’t remember any details.”

  “How long has he been here?” Tillman knew the longer someone was interrogated, the more likely they were to confess, guilty or not. Sometimes, it was simply a desire to be left alone from the questioning, other times because they craved attention and, most frequently, because of an underlying mental or learning disability.

  They entered the small, cheerless room with bare, drab walls. The only furniture was six metal folding chairs surrounding a chipped Formica-topped table stained yellow from years of cigarette smoke.

  Hoyt Snowden sat slouched and listless, occasionally sipping a can of Coke. He had thin, shoulder-length red hair and a bushy red beard. He raised his head at the entrance of the two detectives. Tillman took in his pale face and red-rimmed eyes.

  “Hoyt, this is Sheriff Angier from Englazia County,” Sam said.

 
He grunted acknowledgment, swiping thin, twitching fingers across a wrinkled camouflage shirt.

  Tillman sat across from Hoyt, placed his closed file on the table and leaned in. “I hear you have some information on Jolene Babineaux and China Wang.”

  “I killed ’em.” Hoyt’s voice was listless, mechanical, his eyes tired and empty of emotion.

  “How?”

  “Raped and then stuck them with knives, threw them in the water.” Hoyt looked up at the ceiling, seemingly bored.

  “Where, exactly, did you dispose of the bodies?”

  He made brief eye contact before lowering his head. “Huh?”

  “Where did you dump them?”

  Hoyt made a vague gesture with his hands. “The ocean.”

  “A little more specific would be helpful,” Tillman said drily.

  “Got rid of them both in some marshy area. It all looks the same to me.”

  Wrong.

  “Did anyone help you with either killing them or disposing of the bodies?”

  “I did it all myself.” Hoyt acted as if he were spitting out a grocery list instead of confessing to a double murder.

  “Why?”

  Momentary confusion registered in those listless eyes before he shrugged. “I didn’t like the looks of them? Hey, the cops in here before y’all told me if I cooperated and told them what I know, they’d let me go home.”

  “Excuse us a moment.” Tillman picked up his file and Sam followed him out. As soon as the door closed, Tillman raised an eyebrow at Sam. “I drove all the way over for this?”

  “Got to cover all the angles, buddy. Maybe Hoyt’s thought better of his confession and is playing dumb now.”

  “He hasn’t asked for a lawyer yet?” Tillman asked.

  “Nope. Not too smart.”

  “I don’t think the dumb act is an act at all. Anyone checked his education level?”

  “Ninth grade dropout,” Sam said.

  “Sounds to me like your department is pretty desperate to stick him with the crime.”