Skin

by Patricia Rosemoor

  She jerked herself out of the soft mood. She had to think about Hannah. About how to find out if Paul was the one who had her.

  What the heck was she going to wear?

  She tore through Hannah’s closet, pulling out various outfits, all indicative of Hannah’s ‘on-the-edge’ lifestyle, checking them over, discarding them on the bed. Then she pulled out a dress that puzzled her. Modest, long and flowing, it didn’t go with the others.

  Lilith held it up before her and checked herself over in the mirror. Should she wear it or not?

  The apartment phone shrilled, making her jump and drop the dress. Elena would call her cell. Maybe it was Pucinski. She rushed to answer the bedside unit.

  “Hello?”

  No answer. Her fingers gripped the receiver tighter.

  “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  Heavy breathing was her only answer. One she didn’t like.

  Her stomach tightening, she crashed the receiver into its cradle and waited for it to ring again. She tried to convince herself it had been a wrong number. Tried but didn’t really believe it.

  Her gut told her it had been the kidnapper. If she could get the phone number she could give it to Pucinski to run.

  She picked up the phone and looked for the caller ID – PRIVATE CALLER.

  “Oh, hell.”

  This time, she threw the phone across the room.

  Trying to forget about the call so she could concentrate on her plan for the afternoon, she grabbed a different dress from Hannah’s closet and got ready for her “date.”

  oOo

  PAUL’S PALMS WERE SWEATY as he waited for Lilith to show. They wouldn’t seat him until she arrived. He checked his watch. She was late. It was ten after four. He would have to teach her better.

  When he looked over to the stairs, he froze in disbelief. That couldn’t be... but it was Lilith coming up from the foyer. She was wearing a low-cut red minidress a size too small. The tightness accented her lush curves. That and her wild hair and even wilder makeup had everyone’s attention. She looked like a cheap hooker.

  All eyes followed her straight to him.

  Flushing in embarrassment, wanting to sink through the carpeted floor, Paul forced a smile to his lips.

  “Lilith, I didn’t expect you... dressed like this...”

  Her lips curved, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Do you like it? I wore it just for you.”

  Before he could give her a piece of his mind, the hostess rushed over to them, saying, “Ah, your companion is here. I can seat you now,” she said, raising her eyebrows when she got a good look at Lilith. “This way to your table.”

  She led them to the farthest, darkest corner of the room, which was just fine with Paul. He hated that eyes were still on them. Made his skin crawl.

  Lilith sprawled across one of the flowered couches, leaving him no room. He took a chair on the opposite side of the low table.

  “Please bring us our tea, the faster the better.”

  “Of course, Mr. Ensdorf.”

  Lilith twirled a curl of hair around a bright red nail. “So they know you here, Paulie?”

  “They know me at a lot of places.”

  “But you’ve brought girls here before, right?”

  He stared at her. “Of course I have.”

  “Like that girl Anna who up and disappeared?”

  Paul stared at her, tight-lipped, saying nothing.

  Lilith smiled. “Well, you did say I reminded you of her.”

  “Anna was a slut.”

  He watched Lilith carefully for her reaction.

  She studied her nails, and in a bored tone, asked, “Are you saying I’m a slut? Because if you are, Paulie, I wouldn’t like that. I wouldn’t like it at all.”

  “You tell me. Are you a slut?”

  Her gaze bored into him. “Would you like me better if I was?”

  “I like women who have class. I thought you had that or I wouldn’t have invited you out.”

  “Did you think Anna had class, too?”

  Again he didn’t answer, merely stared pointedly at her. But if she felt any discomfort, she didn’t show it. And then the waitress and an assistant brought over their pots of tea and a stand with tiers of finger sandwiches, scones and little pastries.

  Even as the tray was set before them, Lilith squealed loud enough to embarrass Paul and plucked a smoked salmon finger sandwich from the tray and stuffed it in her mouth. She smiled at him as she chewed. She was sitting with her legs crossed, her dress up to her hips, exposing her thighs. Paul couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t keep himself from wondering what those thighs would feel like wrapped around his waist.

  But she was getting attention from others in the room.

  Other men.

  He didn’t like getting attention.

  Heat rose along his neck, and imagining what those men would like to do to her, he had to spread his legs to relieve his incredible hard-on. “I told you to wear something conservative.”

  “Don’t you think I look good in red, Paulie?”

  “You’d look better in blue or pink. A pastel is more ladylike.”

  She had the nerve to roll her eyes at him. “You want that?” She pointed to his scone.

  He glanced around. People were staring. His appetite was gone. She grabbed the scone and slathered strawberry jam and cream on half.

  “So, Paulie, what do you do? For a living.”

  “Paul. Call me Paul. I work in a family business.”

  She took a big bite, left a smear of cream along her upper lip. “What kind of business?”

  “A funeral parlor.”

  She nearly choked on the mouthful before she managed to swallow it. “You work with dead bodies?”

  He could tell she was revolted. She wiped her mouth with a linen napkin and pulled back. Good to see he had some effect on her. Maybe that would straighten her out and get her to act like the lady he knew she could be.

  “About Saturday,” he said. “I have dinner with my grandmother before taking her to evening service. Nana lives with me. I’ve told her all about you, how special you are. She wants you to visit with her.”

  “Why wait until Saturday. I can come over tomorrow.”

  Paul stared at her. “I said Saturday.” He didn’t like it when women tried to control him. Good thing she didn’t argue about it. “If things go well, that’s just a start. I want to do things for you, show you another kind of lifestyle.”

  He wanted to do things to her that no other man had ever done. He wanted her pliant and grateful and panting for more.

  Lilith gave him a haughty look. “You’re not responsible for the way I live.”

  Why was she being so contrary? Couldn’t she give up the act, show him her real self like he would do when he got her alone?

  “The club isn’t you, Lilith. You’ve got class. You just need a chance to show it. I’ve been waiting for someone exactly like you for a long time.”

  Quiet for a few seconds, she finally said, “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Only the really good ones.”

  oOo

  SO SHE HADN’T gotten anything telling out of Paul, Lilith thought, other than that invitation to meet his grandmother on Saturday. If Hannah wasn’t found by then, as much as she dreaded it, Lilith would keep the date. Hopefully Hannah would be rescued before that...or at least alive, if still captive. If the police had any leads, she hadn’t heard about it. Not from Gabe. Not from Pucinski.

  The reason she found herself heading straight for the Area Office once she got rid of the little creep.

  A half hour later, she was pacing in front of Detective Pucinski’s desk, frustrated at the lack of progress in the case. “I thought you were bringing in the Feds.”

  “They gave me a profile – the type of guy to look for – and a Special Agent is a member of the Task Force. So far, all I got are leads on a couple of the regulars from the club.” He indicated several files in front of hi
m.

  “I’d like to see exactly what it is you have.”

  She reached for the folders, but Pucinski placed both hands on top of them to stop her. “Look, Miss Mitchell, I’ll keep you informed if I have anything substantial to share, if you promise to do the same. Actually, let me know about anything you learn, no matter how inconsequential it seems. You never know what’s significant. One small observation can turn the case on a dime.” He handed her his card. “In case you lost it, my cell number. You find out anything – and I mean any little thing – contact me directly.”

  “How is it you think I can get information on my sister’s disappearance when you can’t.”

  Pucinski snorted. “I know what you’ve been up to, Miss Mitchell. Working at that club.”

  So Gabe had told him. She sighed. “Have you checked out the club employees?” she asked. “The killer might not be a customer.”

  “You have someone in mind?”

  “His name is Rudy Barnes. I heard he was all over Hannah.”

  “Was he all over you?”

  “He tried. The question is, was he all over the first two victims?”

  “Something I’ll have to find out. In the meantime, Lilith, you should understand you’re taking a big chance on blowing it all. If you don’t get yourself killed, you’re gonna screw up my case.”

  Lilith glared at him. He held her gaze. When she couldn’t make him back down, she spun on her heel and stalked out of his office, jostling Gabe O’Malley’s shoulder before heading for the exit.

  She glanced back once to see the undercover detective staring after her, his expression speculative.

  oOo

  Chapter 13

  LILITH RAN A FEW ERRANDS and still got to the club before her shift started and so went straight to the bar to look for Michael. Spotting Gabe instead, she joined him.

  “Pucinski wouldn’t tell me anything about Hannah’s case,” she said. “What about you? Will you talk?”

  “Sit.” He offered her his stool and spoke softly against the harsh hip-hop music one of the younger dancers preferred. “How about you?” he asked, turning the tables on her. “Learn anything you should share with me?”

  “Nothing definitive. I even went to high tea with Paul Ensdorf. I seem to be the little creep’s type.”

  “You’d be any man’s type.” His expression was as appreciative as he sounded.

  “Yeah, well that doesn’t help me find someone who has a hard-on for women who look like my sister. Surely you know something.”

  To Lilith’s frustration, Gabe said, “You sound frazzled. Let me buy you a drink. A real one.” He waved over the bartender.

  “What can I get you?” Joe asked.

  “Gin and tonic with lime.” One drink wouldn’t hurt. Hopefully, it would ease her nerves so she could do what she’d planned.

  Joe set off to make her drink. She looked toward the back of the club again for Michael. Disappointed when she didn’t see him, she returned her attention to Gabe and caught him in an unguarded moment before he covered with a forced smile.

  “Who died on you?” she asked.

  “They don’t have to die. Sometimes they just leave you. My ex hated being married to a cop, at least one in the Violent Crimes Unit. The kids don’t have any say-so. Just another in a long list of disagreements.”

  He reached into his pocket and found his wallet. He pulled out a picture: three kids and a woman whose long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, which accentuated her classic beauty.

  “Great looking kids,” she said.

  “You ever been married?” he asked.

  “I’ve never even been in love.”

  Even as she said it, Lilith thought about Michael. But of course she didn’t love him. There was a definite attraction. Maybe she was a little in lust with him. She kept thinking about that almost kiss.

  Shaking away the thought, she said, “So you’re not going to tell me anything about the investigation?”

  “Nothing to tell. Yet. Be careful, Lilith. This guy’s dangerous. Don’t provoke him.”

  “I don’t know who him is.” But provoking him was exactly why she was doing what she was doing. If she could finger the killer, the cops could take care of him. And if he came after her, she could take care of herself. “If it’s Paul Ensdorf, I definitely can take him.”

  “I’m sure you can, but I doubt that he’s the one. Too obvious.”

  “Who would you choose to be a potential killer?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet, but–”

  “But what?”

  “I’ve seen you talking to that Wyndham guy. I hate to tell you this, but he’s one of our suspects.”

  Lilith started, and her heart skipped a beat. “Michael is not some crazy creep. He’s here making a documentary about girls who work at places like this for a living.”

  “Yeah. Maybe that’s what he’s doing.” Gabe shrugged. “He’s got some dangerous connections, Lilith. I’m telling you, Pucinski has a file on him. Be careful is all I’m saying.”

  Even though Lilith didn’t for a second believe Michael was guilty of killing those women, of taking her sister, Gabe’s accusation made her wonder if Michael could be hiding something criminal in his background. Not only did she not want to believe it, Gabe had just made her too uncomfortable to continue the discussion.

  “Hey, I’d better get to the dressing room and get ready for work.”

  “I’ll be here, at least for part of the night.”

  Lilith hurried toward the backstage door. About to rev up her efforts to attract the bastard who had a thing for women who looked like Hannah, she was fighting nerves. She wasn’t Hannah, and she hated what she was about to do, but she would do anything to save her sister, even come on to the men the way Hannah had.

  So when she got dressed, she forwent using the usual modesty tape that helped keep her breasts covered. She doubled her eye makeup and chose a bright red lipstick with some ingredient that made her lips look bee-stung. Sprayed a little musk on the inside of her wrists and between her breasts. And when she walked out into the club, it was with a smile that touched every man in her path.

  They had no clue that her knees were shaking or that her chest felt like an elephant sat on top of it.

  Male eyes turned from the dancer to her.

  And when she took an order, she forced herself to imitate the other women who worked here. She made it seem like the man placing it was the only man in the room.

  “I like good service,” one guy told her in appreciation.

  He held out a hundred dollar bill, but when she tried to take it, he didn’t let go.

  “Where do you want me to put it?” he asked.

  Her stomach spiraled with nerves. “Anywhere you want, honey.”

  She kept her fake smile as he tucked the bill between her breasts, taking the opportunity to brush her flesh with the tips of his fingers. She fisted her own hands so she wouldn’t take those fingers and break them.

  “There’s more where that came from,” he said.

  “How much more?”

  “Depends on what you’ll do for it.”

  “Tsk-tsk-tsk!” She shook her finger at him as if he’d been a bad boy, winked and moved to the next customer, while all the while her stomach roiled.

  Surely she was drawing enough attention to herself now to get noticed.

  oOo

  MICHAEL THOUGHT TO stay away from the club tonight, but in the end, he changed his mind. Lilith drew him back.

  And so when he came in and saw her letting some creep put a bill between her breasts, he stopped cold.

  He hated this. Hated Lilith letting men touch her like that.

  It reminded him of his mother.

  But Lilith wasn’t a stripper. She didn’t even belong here as a waitress.

  One thing about his job, he was an expert researcher. And he’d spent half the day researching Lilith Mitchell. He knew she was a paralegal who worked for one of the top l
aw firms in the city. He also knew why she was here, playing with fire, without her having to admit a thing. He knew, but, thinking he’d found the elusive narrative for his documentary, he wouldn’t tell her that he did.

  He wanted her to open up to him.

  He wanted to know how she felt about what she was doing... for someone else.

  He wanted her.

  She saw him sit at a table in back. He waved her over, but she ignored him. She kept up the act with the half-drunk men more than willing to pay her for a quick thrill.

  How could she let them touch her like that?

  She kept it up all night, going from man to man – avoiding him – until the club closed. She was the last waitress to leave the room.

  Michael edged around to the rear of the club, and making sure no one saw him, slipped through the backstage door. Most of the dancers had already left. He waited off to the side for Lilith to come out of the dressing room. Only she didn’t.

  Not hearing any more chatter, he wondered if the place was empty, if he’d missed her. He took his chances and opened the door. The lights were out except for where Lilith sat in front of the mirror. The only one in the room, she was removing her makeup. And she was wearing a red dress that left little to the imagination.

  As if suddenly realizing she wasn’t alone, Lilith turned to face him. “Michael, what are you doing here?”

  “Better question – what are you?”

  “I just finished my shift; now I’m getting ready to leave.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  She rose and gathered things from the counter and threw them in her bag. “You’re being obtuse.”

  “All right, then here’s direct. Why the hell were you letting those men put their hands on you?”

  “It’s my job.”

  “If I remember correctly, last night you said you served drinks, which didn’t give them the right to manhandle you.”

  “So I changed my mind. I made a fortune in tips tonight.”

  Michael pulled out a hundred dollar bill. “Here’s another tip.”

  Her breasts were practically spilling out of the front of the red dress. He slipped the bill down in the middle of her left breast and didn’t miss the fact that her nipple grew instantly hard.