by Sherri Hayes
Chloe lowered her eyes. “You were mad at Daddy.”
“Just because your dad and I don’t always agree, doesn’t mean I’m going to leave, Chloe. Grown-ups disagree sometimes.”
“But that man. He . . . he kissed you.” She said the last part in a conspiratorial whisper.
Megan sighed, and slid off her chair so that she could kneel down next to Chloe. Taking both the little girl’s hands in hers, Megan tried to be as honest as she could. “I can’t promise you that I’ll never leave, Chloe, but I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
There was still a little uncertainty in Chloe’s reply, and Megan knew the little girl needed more assurance. “Do you think I can get a hug?”
Chloe didn’t hesitate. She circled her tiny arms around Megan’s neck, and squeezed tight. “I love you, Megan.”
Megan hugged her back. “I love you, too, Chloe.”
Leaving for work that morning was more difficult than usual. He wanted to stay and comfort his little girl. Paul knew he wouldn’t be able to protect Chloe from every emotional, or even physical, obstacle she would face, but as her father that desire was there.
As he’d said goodbye to Chloe, giving her an extra-long hug, he didn’t miss the pointed stare he’d received from Megan. He knew she held him responsible for Chloe’s reaction, and in all honestly, Megan was probably correct. Paul was the one who’d invited Rollins to have dinner with them. Paul was the one who’d set everything up, including what led up to the kiss Chloe witnessed. It was his fault—at least most of it.
Paul parked his car outside the station, and took a moment to compose himself. As much as he needed to figure out what was going on in his life at the moment, he also had cases to work and a serial killer to catch.
He got out of his vehicle, and was halfway across the parking lot when he caught sight of Janey striding toward him. The look on her face told him that he wasn’t going to like whatever it was she was about to tell him.
“We’ve got another victim.”
Turning on his heel, they returned to his vehicle, and drove to the crime scene. He needed to get his head in the game, and figured the best way to do that was to begin gathering the facts. “What do we know?”
“The victim is a twenty-six-year-old female named Shelly Otis. Her roommate found her about an hour ago when she came home after a night shift.”
“Anything else?”
“Not much. Since we’re fairly sure this is another victim courtesy of our serial killer, they’re waiting on us.”
It didn’t take them long to arrive. The victim’s house was only about ten minutes from the station, in a middle-class subdivision. Paul noted that the surroundings were eerily similar to those of the other victims. Everything about the neighborhood was normal, average. There was nothing that made this place stand out. Was that a key to how this guy chose his victims?
“It looks like the others.”
He glanced over at his partner. “Yeah. I was thinking the same thing. Could be a clue.”
Janey snorted. “If it is, that he’s choosing his victims based on them living in nondescript subdivisions . . . that’s about as helpful as knowing he likes the color yellow.”
Paul smirked. “Maybe he does.”
She shook her head. “So not helpful, Daniels.”
He released a harsh laugh, and then exited the vehicle. Janey followed, and they showed their badges to the patrolman positioned in front of the house, before going inside.
The forensics team was still doing their thing. Paul and Janey took a brief look at the crime scene, and Paul noted that it was in line with the others. The victim was lying in the center of the room, with her wrists and throat slashed. Blood pooled on the carpet, and stained the pink polka-dot bikini she wore.
Paul glanced out the window into the backyard, looking for any sign of a pool, and noticed what looked to be a hot tub roughly five feet from the house. “Do we have time of death?”
The ME looked up from where he was positioned over the body. “More than ten hours, so I’d say last night some time.”
Nodding, Paul moved toward the door. He and Janey headed down the hall to where they’d been told the victim’s roommate was waiting.
Sitting on the couch in the living room was a young woman who looked to be in her mid to late twenties with long reddish brown hair. She was staring off into space, face and eyes blotchy from the tears she’d been shedding. This was the part of the job Paul hated the most. It was hard to stay detached when coming face-to-face with the victim’s friends and family. It always brought back memories for him.
Since the roommate was female, Janey took the lead. It was an unspoken agreement between them. “Katherine Bates?”
The woman turned abruptly, looking almost shocked to see them standing a few feet in front of her. “Yes.”
Janey smiled. “Hello, Ms. Bates. I’m Detective Davis, and this is Detective Daniels. We need to ask you a few questions.”
She glanced down, toying with a tissue. “Okay.”
“When was the last time you saw your roommate?”
“Last night, before I left for my shift at the hospital. Shelly was in her room.”
Janey moved to sit next to her on the sofa. “I know this is difficult, but do you remember seeing anything out of place when you left the house?”
She shook her head. “No. I was . . . I was running late, and I . . .” Tears started streaming down her cheeks, and it took several minutes for her to compose herself.
The rest of the questioning went in a similar vein. She didn’t know much. She hadn’t seen anything. What’s more, she and Shelly often worked opposite shifts, so she didn’t have a lot of information on Ms. Otis’ daily routine. They wrote down what she did know, and gave her their cards in case she thought of anything else.
After leaving Ms. Bates, Janey and Paul spoke to a couple of neighbors who’d been home the night before. Like the others, though, no one remembered seeing anything out of the ordinary. Paul and Janey still had no idea how this guy was getting into the homes of his victims without anyone seeing anything, or there being any sign of forced entry.
They stopped for lunch on the way back to the station.
Once they’d placed their order and their server had retreated to the kitchen, Janey turned her attention on him, an amused look on her face. “So how did dinner go last night with Rollins?”
He groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Janey laughed. “That bad, huh?”
Paul sighed. “You could say that.”
“I could’ve saved you the trouble and told you that before you went.”
“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ did you miss?”
This only added to Janey’s mirth. “Like it or not, that nanny of yours is smitten with you. And I doubt she appreciated you trying to throw another man in her direction.”
He took a sip of his soda. “Is this one of those times when I tell you to butt out and you completely ignore me?”
She leaned forward and smiled. “Yep. It is. I’ve known you for five years, Paul, and I’ve never seen you rattled by a female. Heaven knows, I’ve witnessed women flirting their little hearts out more times than I can remember, but you’ve barely registered it. Megan Carson is different, whether you like it or not.”
Paul said he didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t, but if anyone would understand it would be Janey. “I’m not—”
“Do not say you’re not ready. It’s been five years, Paul. Don’t you think it’s time you got back on the horse, so to speak?”
That wasn’t it, but he let her assume that it was so she’d let the subject drop. Janey didn’t know about his argument with Melissa the night of her death. He’d never told her. He’d never told anyone.
Until Megan.
Megan made it a point to spend extra time with Chloe that day. She tried to reassure the little girl as much as s
he could that she was there for the foreseeable future—for as long as Paul would allow her to be.
They read a couple of books together, and even made some brownies for dinner that night. As the day progressed, Chloe seemed to relax. It was one problem Megan could cross off her list.
She was still irritated with Paul. They needed to have a long talk, but she knew that doing so with Chloe around was tricky. Sure, Megan could wait until the little girl was asleep, but there was always a chance that they’d be interrupted.
There was also a possibility things could get heated—and not in the good, take-me-to-bed-and-have-your-way-with-me kind of way. Megan had every intention of making Paul realize that he was not responsible for what had happened to Melissa. Knowing what was keeping him from pursuing a relationship with her was equal parts frustrating and incredibly sad. It was obvious that he’d been beating himself up over this for the last five years, and Megan’s heart hurt for him. She wanted to fix it.
At five o’clock, Megan and Chloe headed into the kitchen to start dinner. Paul would be home soon, and Megan had no idea what kind of a mood he’d be in. He knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t going to let something like this go, but Megan also wasn’t naïve. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy.
They heard a car pull into the driveway, and Chloe scrambled down from her stool to wait by the door. Paul sauntered in a few seconds later. He hoisted his daughter up into his arms, and hugged her tight—a little tighter than was normal. That was when Megan noticed the tension—the stress—radiating from his body. Something had happened today at work. And as much as Megan wanted to hash it out with Paul, she knew tonight wasn’t the night for it. She’d have to bide her time and wait.
For his part, Paul tried to put on a good show. He kissed Chloe on the cheek, and then lowered her back to the floor. “Something smells good.”
“We’re making chicken fa-fa—”
Chloe scrunched up her nose. Megan knew she was trying desperately to remember the rest of the word. “Fajitas.”
“Fa-heat-taas.” Chloe gave Paul a huge smile before rejoining Megan. “Did you want to help us make them, Daddy?”
Paul strolled over to stand on the other side of Chloe. “Sure. What is it that you need me to do?”
For the next half hour, they worked together to chop vegetables, marinate chicken, and warm tortillas. When there was nothing more Chloe could do to help with the food, she announced that she was going to set the table. It was haphazard, and Paul ended up with two spoons and no fork, but that was okay.
Chloe was all about helping—she’d been that way from the time Megan moved in. Sometimes Megan wondered if it was Chloe’s way of supporting her dad. She might not be aware of the guilt he was carrying—the hurt—but kids were very perceptive. They picked up on things that many adults dismissed. Maybe this was her way of trying to comfort her father.
When they sat down to dinner, Paul was quieter than usual. He smiled at the appropriate times, and asked Chloe about her day, but there was something off.
Megan waited until Chloe was tucked into bed before bringing it up.
They were sitting downstairs watching television—or, she was watching television. Paul was staring off into space somewhere. “Paul?”
He glanced over at her, blinked, and then sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Yes?”
She could tell by his posture that he was bracing himself. “Is everything all right? I mean, you seem . . . I don’t know. Worried? Stressed? Did something happen today?”
Paul released a breath, and she figured he’d been waiting for her to start in about their conversation the night before. They would talk about that, but not when he was like this. “Just work, that’s all.”
Megan scooted closer. She was on the couch, and he was in the recliner almost two feet away, but she needed to be closer to him. “A case?”
He nodded.
She wanted to reach out to him, but she didn’t know if her touch would be welcomed. “Is it . . . I mean, I had the news on earlier. They said there was a woman found dead in her house.”
Paul sighed, and closed his eyes. “I can’t . . . I can’t talk about the case.”
Megan decided to throw caution to the wind. She reached out, spanning the distance between them, and covered his hand with hers.
He jerked, but didn’t pull away.
They sat like that for several minutes before he opened his eyes and looked at her. He didn’t say anything at first, but some of that haunted look he’d had before was gone. “I should get some sleep.”
He stood, and she retracted her hand.
Paul hesitated.
“If you ever need to talk, Paul, I’ll listen.”
He didn’t look at her. “Good night, Megan.”
She watched him stroll out of the room and disappear up the stairs. Dropping her head back against the couch, Megan sighed. He’d allowed himself to take comfort from her. That was something, right? Rome wasn’t built in a day, and Megan had a feeling that breaking down the walls Paul had built around himself was going to take some serious work on her part.
Pushing herself up off the couch, Megan turned off the lights, and headed up the stairs. Tomorrow was another day, and somehow she knew that once Paul got some rest, his defenses would be back up in full force.
Chapter 12
Megan couldn’t have envisioned the chaos of the next few weeks if she’d tried. One of the other detectives had a death in the family, which meant Paul and all the remaining detectives had to pull extra shifts. If that weren’t bad enough, as things were returning to normal, some of the officers came down with the flu. As often happens, the illness slowly spread through the department. It was only a matter of time before Paul came down with the bug.
The week before Chloe was supposed to leave for a month away with her grandparents, Paul arrived home one evening looking paler than usual. Megan knew almost immediately something was off. When Chloe ran over to greet her father, instead of picking her up, he hugged her against his leg, and ruffled her hair.
“Chloe, can you get the milk out for me?” Megan asked.
The little girl nodded, and raced across the room to get the milk.
While Chloe was busy, Megan edged closer to Paul. “You caught it, didn’t you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh. Sure you are.” Megan shook her head, and took the milk out of Chloe’s little hands.
Paul cleared his throat, and Megan could hear the strain. “What are we having?”
“Pork chops.”
“I helped season them, Daddy.” A big smile stretched across Chloe’s face. She was still completely unaware of her father’s plight.
He smiled in response, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re such a great helper.”
Megan knew by the way Paul was acting that he had to be feeling pretty bad. “Why don’t you have a seat? Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
“I told you, I’m fine. What do you need me to do?”
Placing her hands on her hips, Megan fixed him with a hard stare. She didn’t say anything, but he got the message loud and clear. He pulled out a chair and sat down.
Megan, with Chloe’s help, brought everything to the table. As Megan lowered herself into a chair, she placed two painkillers down on the table near Paul’s hand.
He glanced down at the pills, and then up at her. She thought maybe he would try to argue with her, but instead, he reached for the pills, and popped them in his mouth. “Thanks.”
Throughout dinner, Megan made a conscious effort to keep Chloe occupied. Normally the little girl was all about filling her father in on what she’d done with her day, but Megan didn’t think Paul was up for conversation at the moment. Eating seemed to be taking a considerable effort all on its own.
When they were finished, Megan asked Chloe if she’d help her put the food away and load the dishwasher. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get into bed? Chloe and I will clean up
.”
To her surprise, Paul didn’t argue.
He was halfway up the stairs when Chloe realized Paul was no longer in the kitchen. “Where did Daddy go?”
Megan bent down so she was on eye level with Chloe. “Do you remember how your daddy told you that some people at work were sick?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you know how sometimes when you’re around people who are sick that you get sick, too?”
She scrunched up her nose in concentration. “Daddy’s sick?”
Megan brushed a strand of hair off Chloe’s face. “I think so. Which means we need to let him rest as much as possible, okay?”
“Okay.”
Smiling, Megan stood. “Do you think you can help me load the dishwasher?”
Chloe nodded, eager to help.
For the rest of the evening, Megan kept Chloe downstairs so that Paul could rest. It wasn’t until bedtime that things got a little dicey. Paul always tucked her in when he was home, and she couldn’t understand why he couldn’t that night. It took some work, and an extra story, but Megan finally got Chloe to settle down and close her eyes.
Before heading to her own room, Megan decided to check on Paul. She knocked lightly, and when he didn’t answer, she cracked the door open so she could see inside. He was curled up on his side, his eyes closed, and the covers pulled up tight to his chin. The urge to go to him was strong, but she resisted.
She almost had the door closed when she heard him call her name.
Reopening the door, she stepped inside. “Yeah, Paul, it’s just me.”
He rolled over, and sat up a little. “Chloe?”
Megan strolled closer. “She’s in bed. I had to bribe her with an extra story.”
A small smile pulled at the corners of Paul’s mouth. “She’ll do anything to get an extra story.”
Megan chuckled. It was true. Chloe would do almost anything for a story. There had been times when she’d asked Megan to make one up off the top of her head. Since Megan wasn’t gifted in that way, she did her best to redirect the little girl’s attentions. There were times, however, when it was impossible.
