by AJ Nuest
Easing back in his chair, Kelly reached blindly for his juice and brought the glass to his lips. Which begged the question, why that room? Apparently, the location of Smith’s murder was important enough the killer felt compelled to stage the area but, if memory served, Smith had been bound and stabbed to death in a vacant bedroom at the residence. The one adjacent to his. So, what was the significance? Why that specific place?
Kelly’s eyes slammed shut at the same moment his head hit the back of the chair. Eden. Of course, the reason would center around her. Everything in this case did. During the recount of her training at Smith’s, she’d told him the others had teased her for being Smith’s favorite. Coupled with how she was the only girl out of the three chosen to inherit the Dirty Deeds monarchy, it made sense Smith would want her close—say, in the nearest bedroom—so he could keep an eye on her. Head off any funny business before it even got started.
Dammit. Kelly banged his glass to the desk with enough force, a few drops of orange juice splattered his hand. Why? Everywhere he turned, the clues led back to her. But the connections made no sense. What the fuck was he missing?
“Hey.” A warm hand clasped his shoulder, and he started then quickly tapped the mouse to minimize Smith’s file. The last thing Eden needed was a slide show reminder of the bloodbath she’d found at her mentor’s house.
“Hey, yourself.” He pivoted away from the desk, and relief eased the tightness in his chest as she climbed onto his lap. God, she was cute all rumpled and sleepy. Lips swollen from his kisses. Hair tousled over the way he’d tangled those silky strands in his fingers.
Simply being back in the same room with her calmed him. Made the world seem less…abrasive.
Shit, he was screwed. The woman had him cuffed, collared and locked in her personal cell.
“What are you doing in here?” She grabbed the edge of the desk and his feet scuffed the carpeting as she spun them toward the computer.
A lie formed on the end of his tongue, but… Dammit, no. He’d asked—okay, he’d demanded full disclosure between them. Giving her the runaround in response to such an innocent question would only nominate him as Jackass of the Year.
“Just catching up on emails.” Sliding his hand along the side of her neck, he planted a kiss on top of her head. Her cheek pillowed the dip between his shoulder and pec, the subtle curve a perfect match against his skin. Same with how her bent knees slanted at just the right angle along his ribcage and the soles of her feet arched over his thigh. In fact, from pretty much every aspect, the way their bodies fit in the chair, it was like they created a superimposed image of one person. “I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d work a little. See if I could catch a break in the case.”
“Did you find anything?” Knuckling her eyes, she lifted her chin to search his face. A second passed before she dropped her hand and blinked away any signs of sleep-sated limbo. “Uh, oh. I’ve seen those worry lines before. What’s the matter?”
He sighed. As if he could hide anything from her even if he tried. The woman’s observations skills had been honed to an art form. “I’m missing something. Something important, and when it comes to you that doesn’t sit very well in my gut.”
The smile that ghosted across her lips was quickly replaced by a frown, but the faint creases between her brows didn’t stand a chance at concealing the wicked gleam in her eyes. “Did you practice that answer while I was sleeping? Saying things like that make you incredibly hard to resist, you know. But there’s no need to butter me up. I’m happy to take a look and see if anything jibes.”
She pushed away from his chest and her feet hit the floor as she grabbed the mouse, but he covered her hand with his before she could click either file. “Wait.”
Her head snapped around so fast, he worried she might need a whiplash collar. Chalk one up for his protective instincts. Old habits and all that shit, especially where Eden was concerned.
But she was venturing down a rocky path. A road from which there was no turning back.
Being the one to usher her there topped the list of things he preferred never happen. Right above getting jabbed in the eye with a fork. Repeatedly.
Her hand tensed under his. “Are you pulling some sort of macho detective rank on me? I thought we were in this together.”
Together? Huh. He really liked the sound of that. Way more than the cynicism that had leaked into her voice, and the subsequent hit she was still inclined to suspect the worst of him even after everything they’d shared. “We are in this together. I’m only trying to give you a heads up. Autopsy photos can be…disturbing. Once you look, there’s no unseeing them, Eden. And afterward, they have a tendency to stay embedded in the brain. Forever.”
Her lips parted with a slight hitch in her windpipe, but she nodded. Didn’t fight him as he eased her hand to the left and positioned the cursor over Ruby’s file. “Maybe it would better to start with a report that’s less personal to you. Regarding someone you didn’t previously know.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek, her focus pinging between him and the screen. A bob of her chin, and he released her hand, sliding his palm up her arm to her shoulder.
He’d stick close in case she needed him, but he wouldn’t interrupt. Whether or not he hated the circumstances wasn’t the issue. He could hate them all damn day, and that wouldn’t change a thing.
The long and short of it was, Eden was right. He needed a fresh perspective on the evidence. From the one person who was every bit as invested as he was. Hell, even more invested than he was.
Giving her access to the files here, in his home, without a bunch of prying eyes around to make a call about how he was trampling straight through procedure, might be the only chance they got. He trusted her to keep the details on the down-low. To make the right move if and when the time came to spill how she’d gained such intimate knowledge of the case.
She clicked on Ruby’s file, but he kept his attention glued to her face. He’d been through the information enough on his own, and Eden’s response was what mattered. The slightest indication she’d hit on something, the smallest hint of recognition and he would stop her cold. Try to coax out whatever—
A choking gasp tore through her chest, and she jackknifed to her feet.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, what just happened? Kelly glanced at the screen. Frowned.
Ruby’s mug shot occupied the top left-hand corner of an old arrest report—eyes red-rimmed, skin pale, black eye make-up streaming down her cheeks and her hair a rat’s nest of dirty knots. She’d been charged with solicitation and possession of narcotics, but that had been over a year ago. Shortly afterward, Delroy had been murdered, Ruby had approached Archer and they’d begun working together.
Kelly squinted at the name typed along the top of the report and alarm jabbed the pit of his stomach.
No, wait. Fuck, it couldn’t be.
He slid his gaze back to Eden. Sweet Christ in Heaven. She stood motionless, the color washed from her face, her hands two rigid fists near her thighs.
She knew Ruby. Under a different name.
“Eden.” He spoke softly, standing in measured degrees from the chair.
No response. Unless he counted the single tear that welled on top of her lashes.
Dammit, how could he have missed something so obvious? He was a fucking idiot to have put her through this.
“Eden.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Baby.”
She shrugged off his touch like it burned. Movements stilted, body jerking as if her muscles refused to obey, she turned to face him. “I know who killed them.” She lifted a trembling finger toward the screen. “I know who killed Malcolm and Viv.”
Chapter 16
Suspect’s name is Adrian Pratt. I don’t care what hellhole he’s hiding in, find him and lock down his location.
Kelly hit send on his text to Archer and glanced across the breakfast bar at Eden. Guilt, rage, frustration… They stepped to the m
at and rapped on the door of his conscience en masse, and like the idiot he was, he threw back the deadbolt and invited them on in.
Christ, what mess, and the fact his investigation was finally headed in the right direction offered little consolation. Especially when compared to the pain in Eden’s eyes. But at least he could count himself lucky in one department.
He now knew the rat bastard’s name, and once Archer had dug the sleep from his eyes and read Kelly’s text, nothing short of the zombie apocalypse would stop him from finding Ruby’s killer and noting if Pratt so much as took a piss.
That faith in Archer’s expertise was a small concession, but it was also one that would allow Kelly to concentrate his energies where they were needed most. On the woman who’d somehow become more important to him than whether or not his heart chose to keep beating.
Eden stood before the fireplace, zoned out and staring into the flames, the comforter off his bed clutched around her shoulders like a puffy, white chrysalis.
After processing the one-two jab of her sickening realization, he’d ushered her into the living room and done his best to comfort her. Physically, at least. He’d wrapped her up nice and snug, and then banked the fire enough to defy the hubs of Hell. Not that his efforts seemed to help. She hadn’t said squat in the past two hours, other than when she’d blurted Pratt’s name, and her entire body continued to shake like she’d been jolted by a defibrillator.
Mentally, she’d checked out. Needed time to process. Or maybe she was flipping through the color-coded women in her head, trying to figure out which one would be best to deal with the pain.
She sighed and tipped her face toward the ceiling, and he studied her from under his brows. Or could be the issue was a helluva lot simpler.
She remained quiet because she was plain old-fashioned pissed. “You’re not going to find him, you know.”
Irritation prickled his nerves, but the barrel of that particular weapon was aimed directly at himself. She was right to second-guess him. Missing such a critical connection in the case had been a bone-headed move. Typical of a first-year cadet.
He’d gotten sidetracked, dammit. By his intense attraction to her. By his need to make sure she was hidden away someplace safe.
By his subconscious’s persistent efforts to work out a future between them.
He set his phone near the coffee pot and poured them each a cup, added some non-dairy creamer to hers and walked the steaming mugs around the breakfast bar.
But he’d be damned before he failed her again. No way in hell. “Oh, yeah? Watch me.”
Her brow twitched as he handed her the coffee, and the figurative knife embedded in his chest eased a notch or two. Even though a shell-shocked agony remained stamped across her features, her eyes were clear. Sharp and assessing.
Thank God, she was back from wherever the memories had taken her. Hadn’t felt compelled to slip into one of her personas because of his moronic error in judgment.
That she remained here with him…his Eden…made all the difference.
And amen to that, because he needed her.
His jaw firmed. In a way that had nothing to do with the case.
“Last I heard, P-rat was in prison.” She blew into her cup before sipping. “I was supposed to be notified if he ever came up for parole, Kelly. That’s why I totally dismissed him as a possible suspect.”
Her eyes closed and the dark, protective part of him rattled the bars of its internal cell, scrambling for a way to erase all the bullshit. Do something to make the suffering go away.
“He must’ve paid someone off. Found a way to keep his release a secret.” A self-deprecating huff jerked her shoulders. “God, I’m an imbecile,” she whispered.
No. That statement was fucked up beyond anything he’d ever heard. His hand to God, Eden Smith was many things, but an imbecile wasn’t one of them. “P-rat?”
Scrunching her eyes tight, she shook her head. “It was a stupid nickname I came up with to help Viv deal with everything Adrian put her through. Make him seem less sadistic, I guess. Alleviate some of the aftereffects over the way he tormented her.”
She blinked and an aching pulse mushroomed into Kelly’s temples over the way his molars were locked in a hard grind. So help him God, if the asshole had ever touched her, he was a dead man. Procedure and protocol wouldn’t factor into the equation. Not one bit.
“Nothing I did ever worked. Not that it should have.” Turning away from him, she walked toward the armchair stationed at the end of the coffee table and slumped onto the leather seat. The comforter slipped off her shoulders, and she tightened her hold on the inside, keeping the edge perched around her upper arms. “He raped her, Kelly. Whenever my back was turned or we somehow got separated, Adrian forced himself on her and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.”
Je-sus Christ. He rolled his head back and blew a long, slow breath toward the ceiling. Going off half-cocked, releasing the anger bent on melting his veins wasn’t what Eden needed. He had to stay cool. Emotionally distance himself so he could concentrate on the details and catch the asshole before he had the chance to strike again.
Then…then his anger would serve a purpose. He’d break the fucker’s nose for what he’d done to Eden’s best friend. Maybe even snap a few ribs before making sure Pratt was castrated—both medically and physically.
Boom. Justice served.
A grunt bounced his chest. Holy shit, he was turning into Eden.
Lowering his chin, he strode toward the chair and knelt in front of her, setting his coffee on the end table between the chair and the couch. He would’ve given anything to hold her. To pull her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right.
But he couldn’t make that promise. Not yet. Not with Pratt unaccounted for, out on the streets God only knew where.
Bracing his forearms along either side of her thighs, he settled for curling his fingers around her hips. Keeping them connected. Linked. Hoping like hell his presence offered her enough strength to provide the information he needed. “Tell me everything, Eden. Starting with who Pratt is and where I can find him.”
A strangled laugh caught in her throat. “By every definition, Adrian Pratt is a monster. As a teen, his favorite pastime was dousing stray animals in lighter fluid so he could set them on fire while they were still alive.”
Right. A psychopathic predator. As if the brutal deaths of his two vics hadn’t already nailed that particular trait.
She jostled her cup to the end table beside his. Shook out her hand as if she hoped to stop the trembling. “He was seventeen when Viv and I were transferred to his parents’ house for foster care. The second he laid eyes on Viv, I knew she was in trouble. Adrian has a talent for spotting weakness, and he set his sights on Viv like she was his personal property to do with as he pleased.”
The jackass. Kelly gripped Eden’s hips a little tighter. “What about you? Did Pratt ever lay his hands on you?”
“He tried once.” The corner of her lips twitched. “Afterward, he didn’t walk straight for a week.”
Atta girl. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so proud. Of anyone. For anything. “And Pratt’s parents? Did you make them aware of the situation?”
Every speck of humor left Eden’s eyes. “I told them after that first time, but it was my word against Adrian’s, and they weren’t about to believe a piece of trash off the streets over their only son.” Her jaw tightened before she dropped her focus to her lap. “But they knew. They knew and did everything they could to keep the abuse quiet. They didn’t want any more negative attention sent in Adrian’s direction. He’d been in trouble before, and their primary concern was making sure he graduated high school without any more incidents on his record.”
Who were these people? Kelly searched her face. And how in the hell had they been approved as foster parents? “What about your case worker? Did you file a complaint?”
T
he second the Department of Children and Family Services got wind of any neglect or mistreatment, Eden and Vivian should’ve been removed from the home. At the very least, regular appointments should’ve been scheduled to check in and make sure everything was status quo.
She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t like I had a cell phone, Kelly. And Adrian made sure to shake me down on a daily basis. God forbid he find any stolen money in my pockets. I’d already done time in juvie for petty theft, and he made it crystal clear he’d report any misstep on my part the second he had proof.” The resigned sigh that parted her lips jolted his heart like the current off a taser. “He wanted me gone. Every day, Adrian tried his best to bust me so he could have his twisted way with Viv without worrying I’d narc him out or interrupt him mid-attack. But if there was one thing I refused to accept, it was leaving her alone in that house. My God, it was bad enough when I was there to pick up the pieces. I can’t imagine what he would’ve done to her if I’d suddenly disappeared.”
That son of a bitch. Kelly lowered his ass to his heels. The dickhead had wedged Eden right where he’d wanted her. Between the hell of watching her friend constantly suffer or removing her from the environment entirely—a lose-lose if he’d ever heard one.
Eden’s hand snuck past the edges of his comforter, and she smoothed the wrinkles along her thigh. “Thirty days.”
He frowned. “Come again?”
“That’s how long it was between our case worker visits.” She flicked that same hand aside, dismissive. “Viv didn’t make it a week before she started shutting down. I’d find her staring off into space, rocking on the edge of her bed. And you can forget about any verbal communication. That was long gone.” Eden shook her head. “Our only option was to leave. As quickly and quietly as possible. To go someplace where Adrian Pratt could never lay his hands on Viv again.”
She swiveled toward the coffee table and reclaimed her cup. Her throat shifted as she swallowed. “So that’s what we did. Five days in, we took off that night and disappeared. Off the grid so no one would be able to find us.”
