When he held the glass door open for her, the cold November wind swept passed them. “Okay, that’ll work. But let’s at least stop at the grocery store on our way. I think a mouse could starve at your place.”
“I have plenty of things to eat at my house.”
“Let me rephrase, you don’t have anything good to eat.” He flipped his coat collar up to combat the wind and followed her brisk pace to the parking lot. Once in the Trans Am, he pulled off his gloves and started the ignition. “If you don’t want to stop at the store, then I’m at least going to grab some take-out.”
She rubbed her gloved hands together, then held them in front of the heat vents. “Do it on your way home.”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“No. I meant after you drop me off at my place and you go home to yours.”
“Subtle.”
She shrugged. “One of my strong points.” Looking out the window, she shook her head. “Anyway, what did you think of the series?”
“Fishing for compliments?”
She whipped her head toward him and narrowed her eyes. “You know damn well I’m not like—”
Chuckling he held up a hand. “Easy. I’m just blowing you crap. I thought it was good. A little shocking, though. I had no idea those things were so popular.”
“Oh yeah,” she said with a sarcastic huff. “You remember the JonBenét Ramsey case?”
“Sure.”
“The media had a field day with that one, not only focusing on every move the police and family had made, but the Ramseys’ participation with the pageant scene. I honestly think that, for most Americans, it was the first time people were exposed to the child beauty pageant phenomenon.”
“It was a first for me. I remember wondering why any parent would purposefully try to make their six-year-old daughter look like she was sixteen.”
Eden shrugged. “You’re not a mom or a little girl.”
“Observant. And your point?”
“Lots of little girls love to play dress-up. Wear pretty princess dresses. Play with their mom’s make-up and nail polish. I know I did. My sister and I used to do it all the time.”
Eden had a sister? He’d assumed she was an only child, but now that he thought about it, he’d never asked her anything about her family when they’d been…dating. Okay, they’d been beyond dating when things had ended. He’d considered what they’d had a relationship. A partnership.
Then why did you lie to her?
Now wasn’t the right time to dissect all of that bullshit, or even drill her about her family. Keeping his focus to the case, he said, “I get that. But according to your series, it seemed to me that the moms were the ones pushing their daughters. And it wasn’t for fun.” The car had warmed up enough Hudson could turn down the heater.
“True,” she replied as she pulled off her gloves. “From what I witnessed, I’d say maybe eighty percent of the girls competing were there because they wanted to win. The rest...” She let out a long sigh. “During one pageant, I had been backstage with David. We’d just finished filming an interview with a mom and her thirteen year-old daughter. After David and I walked away, I realized I’d left my notes behind in their dressing room. When I went back, I overheard the girl we’d interviewed telling her mom she felt sick she was so hungry. Her mom told her she could eat after the pageant ended—two hours from that point by the way—and that she needed to be able to fit into all of her dresses. I also heard her say that if her daughter didn’t at least place in the competition that she’d make her sit in the learning room and write ‘I will be talented and beautiful’ a thousand times.”
Hudson released a low whistle. “I could only imagine what mommy dearest meant by the learning room.”
“Me too. Especially when the mom realized I had been listening. She had an absolute conniption and threatened to sue me and the TV station if I mentioned anything about what I’d overheard. She did, of course, insist that I still use their interview. She wanted TV exposure for her daughter. After all, mom was convinced her daughter would wind up a model.”
“You’d interviewed a lot of moms and daughters. Which episode were these two in?”
“They weren’t. I decided not to use their interview and instead called a woman I know from child services.”
“Nice,” he chuckled. “When are people going to learn not to mess with you?”
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for kids, old people and animals.”
“And the rest of us can kiss your ass?”
She sent him a big grin. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth. Anyway, nothing came of it. The girl said she loved her mom and that everything was hunky-dory. My friend with child services made the visit herself and said everything checked out. No signs of abuse or neglect. She did say her gut told her the mom wasn’t as sweet as she’d come off during their meeting. But, because she hadn’t found anything, and the girl refused to admit to any abuse, she had to close the case file.”
“And you think twenty percent of these girls might be in similar situations?”
“I’m not suggesting abuse.” She held up her hand and shook her head. “I’m saying that some of these girls aren’t competing in pageants because they want to, but because their moms want them to. And these moms are living vicariously through their daughters. Look at a lot of child movie stars. Those kids want to play and go to school like others their age, but mom and dad only see dollar signs.”
“Not that you’re grouping every parent with a famous kid into the same money grubbing category.”
“Of course not, but...okay, do you remember the interview with the mom from Calumet Park? She was in the third episode.”
“Lived in a trailer? Daughter was about three?”
“That’s the one. Now, her husband earns thirty-three thousand a year. She spends fourteen thousand a year on these pageants.”
“Ho-lee. It costs that much to enter these things?”
“No, but the clothes are expensive, then there’s the travel expense. Food, hotel room, gas money.”
“All of this for a three-year-old? That’s nuts.”
“To you. Well, and to me. But to that mother, her little girl is her ticket out of the trailer. She’s already had offers for her daughter to do a few local TV commercials and department store ads. Next stop. Hollywood.” She shrugged. “What these beauty pageant moms are doing isn’t any different from dads who push their sons into sports. But society doesn’t seem to be bothered by a four-year-old linebacker.”
He thought about his own childhood. How his father had pushed him to be better, tougher, stronger. Hudson hadn’t been as interested in all of the sports programs his dad had shoved him into, but remembered how good it had made him feel when he saw his dad cheering from the sidelines. Later, he and his dad would sit for hours in their small family room where they’d discuss his game. Most times though, that discussion would end with his father drunk on gin, yelling and bitching about his own sorry experiences with sports. How, if he hadn’t knocked up his mom and been forced to take a shit job and skip college, his dad could have been…something. “You won’t get any arguments from me.”
“That’s a first,” she said with a half-laugh.
“Not really. The only time we argued, and I mean really argued, was—”
“I don’t want to go there. It’s over and there’s no point in bringing it up now.”
“I never liked the way things between us ended,” he said even though he knew she was right. He supposed a part of him resented her for not allowing him the chance to fully apologize and explain himself. Or maybe he resented her for not caring enough about him as he had for her. She hadn’t even cared enough to tell him she had a sister.
Remember, you didn’t ask.
“Please. Let it go.”
He didn’t want to, and couldn’t understand why. She kept giving him easy ways to avoid their past and for some reason, he kept pushing to rip open old wounds.
; “Um...” She cleared her throat. “Did you come up with any ideas as to why the doctor from the DVD might have associated my series with what he’d done to his victim?”
Back to business. He should be ecstatic, grateful that Eden was the type of woman who didn’t bitch about the past. If she’d complained about what had happened between them, though, it might have been a sign that she’d given a rat’s ass about him—at least when it had counted, or even now. He’d fallen hard for her, and yeah, he’d screwed up big time. But knowing she’d felt even an inkling of what he had for her meant that someone finally had cared about him. His mom had walked when he was a kid, his dad had been a narcissistic drunk, his ex-wife…
He gripped the steering wheel and refocused. Now wasn’t the time to give himself a mini therapy session. He’d save that for when the case ended. The old Stingray Corvette sitting in the garage he’d rented would make for great therapy. When he walked away from Eden again, and he knew he would because he also knew the woman, he’d need it.
“I’m still not sure why this guy’s pegged you to be his outlet. Maybe he had a daughter who’d been in beauty pageants?” he asked controlling his irritation for both her and himself. He wasn’t so sure he would want to walk away, or have her throw him out again. Being around her again…damn she stirred too many memories, of what they’d had between them and what they’d lost when he’d lied to her.
“Maybe. But that will do us little good without a name or a face.” She blew out a deep breath. “If he did have a kid on the pageant circuit, why torture a plastic surgeon?”
“If the guy was a plastic surgeon.”
“You said yourself that—”
“I know what I said.” He slowed and parked on the street in front of her townhouse. “Look, I do believe this is a case of plain old revenge. But the guy running the torture chamber might be using the beauty pageant, society being poisoned by the perception of perfection crap as a way to throw us off his trail.”
“I don’t believe that. I don’t think you do, either.”
“Doesn’t matter until he makes another move or Rachel ID’s the victim. What does matter is my need for food. Let’s order a pizza before I starve to death.” He opened his car door and rounded the front end of the Trans Am. “I’m even willing to sacrifice sausage and pepperoni and go all veggie for you,” he said as he helped her from the car.
When she unlocked the front door to the townhouse, they were greeted by raspy barks and meowing. He asked her to place the order while he took the Chihuahua out to take care of business. While Brutal searched for the perfect spot, Hudson wondered, once again, what the hell was wrong with him? Last night, even this morning, he’d dreaded working in close proximity with Eden. Now, though, he looked forward to spending time with her. Although she was still a little icy, he’d noticed a thaw that hadn’t been there two years ago. Maybe, despite her reluctance in the car, given time, she’d be willing to...to what? Get back together? Jump into bed and have hours of hot sex? Picturing her naked, imagining the ways they could spend the rest of the afternoon sent blood rushing to his dick. At this point, though, he’d enjoy hanging out with her. Eating pizza and watching a movie. Things normal people did. Things they’d never done. Between his job and hers, normalcy hadn’t been an option. With Eden’s career, he wondered if it ever would.
Hudson scooped up the dog and headed into the townhouse. He needed to shut down the part of his brain that kept going back to all of those emotions he hadn’t and didn’t want to deal with now if ever. Rather than dwell on her and him, he’d finish the case and simply enjoy whatever might happen between them…well, if it happened.
Looking forward to a quiet afternoon, he hung his jacket on the coat rack, then rubbed his rumbling stomach. “What time will the pizza be here?”
“I...uh, I didn’t order it,” she said, avoiding eye contact as she gave the dog a treat.
Leaning against the kitchen island, he crossed his arms and fought his irritation. Her apparent obsession with weight was beyond ridiculous. Didn’t she realize she’d become too skinny? Didn’t she realize other people, namely him, actually enjoyed eating and not starving?
“You don’t have to eat pizza,” he said and retrieved his cell phone. If she wouldn’t call it in, then he would. “I’ll order a salad if you’re worried about the calories or carbs or whatever’s the latest thing to avoid.”
“I have stuff for a salad here,” she said, not meeting his gaze and busying herself with filling the dog and cat’s water dishes. “And I already told you, if you plan on ordering anything, have it delivered to your place. Not mine.”
He slipped his cell phone back into his pocket. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you kicking me out? Aren’t you worried that—”
“I’m going to get another DVD?” Still not looking at him, she released a deep sigh. “We don’t even know if there will be another one. And if there is, it probably won’t happen tonight. Remember, the threat was for another person to die if the DVD didn’t air on today’s six o’clock news.”
“So you think you’ll be safe here? Alone?” He shoved off the wall and approached her. “You don’t think it’s possible that this guy’s anticipated that you won’t be able to air his horror flick and already has his next victim on the operating table? Oh, and let’s not forget your possible stalker.”
She flinched and when she finally met his gaze, he moved closer, fighting the urge to reach for her and smooth away the worry creasing her forehead, to hold her and assure her he’d never let anything happen to her. He fisted his hands instead. The wariness in her eyes, the rigidness of her body told him what he needed to know. She wasn’t ready for what he was willing to offer. Not just sex, but comfort, familiarity, and maybe this time around more of himself.
“I’m not trying to scare you. I want you to be realistic. I want you safe.”
Gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, reminding him he’d unintentionally crowded her, she leaned back. “I appreciate your concern. But I’ll be well protected tonight. All night.”
Unconvinced he said, “The security system is good, I’ve seen to it myself, but having me here—just in case—is an even better security measure.”
“Sorry, but three’s a crowd. I doubt my date will appreciate my babysitter hanging around while we’re...dating.”
She had a fucking date?
“Cancel,” he said, hoping he’d kept the resentment from his voice. Of course he shouldn’t have expected her to remain celibate since they’d broken up. He’d had his share of “dates” too. But knowing another man would be here, in her townhouse, in her bed, had his empty stomach churning with jealousy. The way his emotions were hitting him like a barrage of bullets today, he realized he’d never gotten over the loss of what could have been between them.
No other woman before or after Eden had stirred his gut with thoughts of love and all that other stuff he didn’t have the vocabulary to name.
“I’m not canceling. I refuse to allow a bunch of what ifs to rule my life.” She straightened and met his gaze. The fierce determination in her eyes made him take a step back and give her space. “I have the security system, my animals and my date to protect me. If I need anything else, I’ll give you a call.”
She moved to sidestep him and he grabbed her arm. Unable to resist her tempting scent and equally tempting body, or the jealousy raging through him, he drew her close until his lips were inches from hers. “I still remember everything. How you felt. How you reacted to my touch.” He shoved a hand into her thick, black hair and gripped her scalp. “How you cried out my name when you came.”
A slow, sexy smile curved her lip. “If your memory’s so good then you should also remember what an asshole you were, too.” She pushed past him and moved toward the front door, grabbing his jacket along the way. “Time for you to go,” she said and tossed him his coat.
*
“Good afternoon, I have an appointmen
t with Dr. Westly.”
“Your name?”
“Jim Robinson.” The lie rolled smoothly off Michael Morrison’s tongue as he looked around the dental office. He’d stolen a blueprint of the building eighteen months ago, when some of the offices were being remodeled, and he knew there were two exits from this particular office. One through the reception area and another from the hallway flanked with several rooms used by either the dental hygienists or the dentist himself. That exit had a security camera watching the employees as they’d come and go.
After searching for dental equipment for his personal use, he understood why the dentist had added the extra security. A used, refurbished dental drill sold for nearly fifteen hundred dollars, which was why Michael decided to stick with his old Black & Decker. After all, he was concerned with results, not his patient’s comfort.
“Have you been here before, Mr. Robinson?”
His daughter had...too many times. “No. This is my first visit. A family member recommended Dr. Westly.” He shrugged and offered a sheepish smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to the dentist.”
“Before I started working here, I used to avoid the dentist, too,” the receptionist returned with a smile of her own.
“Can you hear the drill from your desk?” he asked and, using his acting skills, shivered. “That’s gotta be like nails on a chalkboard.”
“You get used to it.” She laughed and looked at her schedule. “Okay, Mr. Robinson, I have you down for a cleaning, x-rays, and exam.”
“I won’t be doing any x-rays today. If Dr. Westly finds something, then maybe.” Leaving dental records behind would be suicide. Once the authorities realized the dentist was missing they’d likely look at Westly’s patients, connect the dots, and discover his true identity.
“Well, that’ll save you a pretty penny. I see you don’t have dental insurance.”
“No.” Another lie, but another way to avoid leaving behind a paper trail. “I’d still like to discuss cosmetic options with Dr. Westly, though. Veneers in particular.”
Shadow of Perceptoin Page 7
