Skin

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “I’m out, but I can easily get a bottle. It’ll only take me fifteen-twenty minutes. There’s a liquor store with a great stock two blocks from here. What’s your preference?”

  Thankfully, he didn’t seem suspicious. All was going according to plan. She needed him out of there to search for the heart-half.

  “Malbec if they have it. If not, a Shiraz. Really, anything will do.”

  “No problem.” He backed off toward the door. “I’m going to walk. I’ll leave your car up front. Your keys are here,” he said, leaving them on a small table next to the front door. “But you are going to be here when I return, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, don’t worry. I won’t disappear,” she said, thinking about how Hannah had.

  The minute he was out the door, Lilith went to the window. While Michael’s building was off the main drag, she could see lights from restaurants and storefronts a few blocks away. She checked her watch to keep track of time. The moment she saw Michael on the street, she started her search, opening drawers, looking in boxes he had stacked all over the place. Even the small ones – anything big enough to hold a heart-half. Or anything else suspicious.

  Nothing.

  She hated doing this, hated suspecting Michael even a little, hated betraying him. But if the task force had him on its radar, there had to be a reason why. Gabe had been correct when he’d claimed Michael’s father was connected. He’d also said the man was dangerous, but Michael had shrugged that off. If she kept at him about his birth father, would he tell her what he was holding back, or would he simply close up?

  Finished in the main room, she headed for his office and editing room. She checked her watch. He’d been gone nine minutes. Did she really have time to search it? She worked as quickly as possible and found nothing to tell her he wasn’t exactly who he claimed to be.

  Six minutes left. Hopefully, more. He’d said fifteen to twenty.

  Keeping her ears open for noises that would tell her he’d returned, she crossed to his bedroom, big enough for a King-sized platform bed with an extended headboard and nightstands. She gave them a thorough once-over but found nothing of interest. To her relief, no heart-half. Next, she looked over the shelves on the wall unit. Tidy. Books. A framed photo of an older woman. His mother?

  She opened a drawer. Underwear and T-shirts.

  Another drawer. Sweaters.

  Another. Papers.

  This one she searched, careful to put things back as she found them.

  The last drawer held small personal items and a flat case – a man’s jewelry box.

  Hand trembling, she opened the lid. Inside: cufflinks, tie tacks, a heavy bracelet.

  No heart-half. Relief washed through her.

  The sound of a key in the lock made her heart thud. She shoved the box into place and closed the drawer and was barely back into the main room before Michael walked in, bag in hand. He set the bottle of wine on the counter and fetched a battery-operated opener from a cabinet.

  “You didn’t leave, after all. I was afraid this might be wasted.”

  “And if I had?”

  “My bad luck.”

  He used the wine opener on the bottle, and she fetched two stemmed glasses from the cart and brought them to the island, where he filled them and handed her one.

  They clinked and sipped, and she said, “I thought you were just interested in my mind.”

  “I’ve expanded my interests.”

  The wine warmed Lilith inside. Relaxed her. She’d been living and breathing tension – had been trying to hold fear for Hannah at bay – and just letting go of all that for a little while was a relief. She finished her glass and let him refill it. She was so relieved at not having found anything incriminating in her search, especially not Hannah’s heart-half, that she smiled, really smiled, for the first time with him.

  Topping off their glasses, he said, “I like that. The smile. You don’t do that often enough.”

  “Give me reason.”

  “I thought you would never ask.”

  Feeling more for this man than she wanted to, Lilith couldn’t move. He locked onto her gaze, and she felt something between them clicking. Growing.

  Attraction.

  Empathy.

  Connection.

  He reached out, touched her cheek and moved closer. Slanted his mouth over hers. A brush of lips that made her entire body sigh. He pulled back a paper-width and their eyes connected again.

  Michael slid his hand around her head to draw her to him more fully.

  She needed this. Needed a way to forget her fears, even if for a little while. Needed his touch. His mouth on hers. His hand roaming along her hip, lifting her skirt, seeking her heat.

  “Michael!” she whispered when he made her thighs quiver in response.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  His fingers were already inside the edge of her panties, parting her lips, burrowing into her wet warmth. She could hardly breathe, her pulse was racing, her flesh was on fire.

  It was just sex.

  A much-needed release.

  In answer, she kissed and opened to him.

  He played her like a violin, with the precision of a man who knew a woman’s body, who knew the instrument that would make her whole body sing. Her clit had never known such a master. He played her faster and faster until she was nearly mindless with wanting and needing and, finally, having.

  When she came, he had to hold her so she didn’t slip to the floor. Her knees seemed to have disappeared.

  Her heart was pounding. Her head was light. Her skin was slick with a sheen of afterglow.

  No words passed between them. He refilled their glasses, handed one to her. She downed her wine and set down the glass.

  Then undid his belt and unzipped his jeans.

  He was ready for her. Hot. Heavy. Hard. He pulsed when she touched him.

  With a moan, he leaned back against the counter, braced both hands on the edge and watched her intently. He filled her hand. And when he leaned forward and kissed her again, he filled her mouth. He set the rhythm with his tongue. She followed with her hand and fingers, flashing over his length, thumbing his tip and spreading the fluid there over his head.

  He let go of the counter and found her breasts, slid under the material of her dress and bra so that she felt his flesh against hers. Felt him thumb her nipples in the same escalating pace. Heat spread through her, and her head grew lighter. She had to have him inside her. With her free hand, she moved her panties to the side and with the other, guided him up her slick path.

  Catching her buttocks with both hands, he hitched her up so he could go deeper. She wound her legs around his back and rode him hard.

  When they came, it was together. An explosion of the senses. Colors, smells, sensations all intensified.

  He held her wrapped around him, foreheads meeting.

  And then she quieted inside.

  And remembered why she was there in the first place.

  Remembered Hannah was still at risk.

  When Lilith insisted on going home, Michael expressed his disappointment but walked her to her car. He kissed her good-bye. Not the light brush of lips on lips. Not the intense tangling of tongues.

  His kiss was warm and deep and possessive.

  And left her feeling guilty on two fronts, both because she’d betrayed him and because, for a few minutes in his arms, she’d forgotten Hannah and so had betrayed her sister, as well.

  oOo

  Chapter 17

  WANTING TO FEEL CLOSER to Hannah, Lilith went to sleep with the stuffed tiger cat, remembering the past when they’d been as close as two sisters could be.

  Memories turned into bad dreams, and she slept restlessly, forcing herself up out of another nightmare of Hannah being hunted.

  A noise outside startled her. Her eyes flew open, and she sat straight up, dropping the stuffed toy to the floor. Heart pounding, disoriented for a moment, she slipped out of bed and looked around. She checked t
he locks on the doors and then went to a window and looked out. Everything looked normal. No dark car with lights on in the middle of the street. Dawn was about to break, but outside, the street was still dark.

  Empty.

  Wait! Movement. Lilith squinted hard.

  In the middle of the street that moved away from the river, the old homeless woman was pushing a grocery cart holding black bags filled with her possessions.

  Dressed only in a sheer negligee, Lilith slipped on shoes and ran to the coat closet, where she grabbed a raincoat. She fetched her keys and hurriedly unlocked the front door, but by the time she got out on the sidewalk, the woman had disappeared once more.

  She couldn’t have gotten far.

  Lilith took off down the street after her. Running in heels was a bitch, but she determined to talk to the only person who’d been witness to what happened the night Hannah was taken. Maybe there was something, some small thing, that could help her figure out the identity of the man.

  Away from the river, buildings multiplied – one of the old neighborhoods with apartment houses and two- and three-flats and single family homes a century and more old. Here alleys intersected blocks. Undoubtedly that’s where the elderly woman had been headed, to pick up items tossed out with the garbage.

  The alley turned into a T. When she got to the intersection, Lilith still saw no one.

  But she heard footfalls behind her. She whipped around. Saw movement in the shadows. Didn’t hesitate. Ran for her life.

  The slap-slap of leather on pavement followed.

  She could take care of herself. She could fight. But mentally, she simply wasn’t prepared. Not for this moment. Not for this place. This would be on his terms. She wanted them on hers.

  So she kept running, darted down a gangway between two apartment houses. Down several steps of an underpass beneath the first floor apartment. Breathing hard, she grew desperate to lose whoever followed.

  She could do it.

  Face him.

  Beat him.

  Just not now.

  She flew up several steps into a cement backyard.

  Where to go?

  Another alley.

  Catching her breath, she slipped out of the yard and crouched behind a lineup of black resin garbage cans on wheels. She rolled into a tight ball and tried not to breathe.

  In the pooled yellow alley light between cans, she saw dark-clad legs stop nearby. He was breathing heavily. Inching back slightly from the crack between two garbage cans, she prepared herself to start running again.

  The man’s legs turned one way, then the other, as if he were trying to decide which way to go. Finally, he moved off.

  Lilith stayed put. Waiting.

  Agonized.

  Demoralized.

  She could have ended it right there, one way or another, but she’d let fear take hold of her.

  Would she do any better if she finally met the killer face-to-face, even if it was on her terms?

  oOo

  IT WAS DAYBREAK by the time Lilith got back to Hannah’s place.

  Disappointed in herself, she slammed the front door and threw the dead bolt. Dropped the raincoat on the couch, went back to the bedroom where she rescued the tiger cat from the floor and brought it back to bed with her.

  She’d convinced herself she could do this, but could she or was she fooling herself?

  Good thoughts of Hannah, she told herself as lay there for who knew how long. Her mind kept going over and over the chase through the alleys. Eventually, exhaustion overtook her. She drifted off thinking, No more nightmares.The phone ringing woke her sometime later.

  Groaning, she rolled over and checked the clock. 9 a.m. She’d slept a few hours.

  No name on the caller ID. Her stomach churned as she picked up the phone anyway. Suspecting it was him, she demanded, “Who is this?”

  “You haven’t danced for me yet,” came the electronically altered voice.

  She sat straight up in bed. “What do you want?”

  “You may not be afraid for your own safety or your sister’s, but what about the girl’s?”

  “What are you talking about? What girl?”

  “She says her name is Carmen. If you want to see her alive again, you’ll dance for me. Tonight.”

  The click on the other end of the line told Lilith he’d hung up on her.

  “Carmen!”

  Panicked that the killer had even known the girl’s name, Lilith called her home.

  “Mrs. Vargas, it’s Lilith. Can I speak to Carmen, please.”

  “She’s not here. She don’t come after the class last night. I try calling you.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  The woman must have called while she was working. Why hadn’t she checked for messages on her cell?

  “Did you call the police?” Lilith asked.

  “No. She’s probably with a boy. If she gets pregnant...”

  If only that were the situation. “I’ll let you know if I hear from her.” She couldn’t tell Carmen’s parents a killer might have her. She couldn’t panic them before she knew for certain.

  “Gracias.”

  After hanging up, Lilith sat there, feeling more than a little lost. What was she going to do now? If the killer had Carmen, that was her fault. She never should have taken the waitress job and made herself up to look so much like her sister. Never should have taunted the man who’d taken her. It was one thing to put herself in danger. Another to put Carmen in danger.

  The whole situation was spinning out of her control. No matter which way she turned, she seemed to make it worse. She was beginning to understand how a woman could feel helpless, like a victim who didn’t know if she could get herself out of a mess she created.

  She couldn’t stop now, not when she was responsible for saving both Hannah and Carmen.

  Dear Lord, what if they died because of her?

  What was she going to do?

  Only one thing she could think of.

  She was going to dance.

  oOo

  PUCINSKI WAS IN HIS OFFICE, going over everything he knew about The Hunter Case when in walked Lilith Mitchell, undoubtedly to give him another going over. At least that’s what he thought until he saw her face.

  Uh-oh.

  “Miss Mitchell.” He sat back in his chair like he didn’t know she was about to unload on him. “Sit. What’s on your mind?”

  She didn’t sit. She paced.

  “Carmen Vargas. She’s the teenager I’ve been mentoring. She disappeared last night.”

  Where was she going with this? Pucinski wondered. How was it connected to the case?

  “Her parents make a complaint?”

  “They think she’s with a boy.”

  Her eyes looked watery, like she’d been crying. Ah, hell, he hated tears. Next thing he knew he would be patting her on the back, comforting her. He gripped the arms of his chair so he wouldn’t.

  Instead he asked, “And what’s your theory?”

  “He has her. The killer. He called me this morning and told me.”

  “He called you?” And him with no tap on that damn phone. “What else did he say?”

  “That if I didn’t dance for him – tonight – both Carmen and Hannah would die.”

  “Did he let you talk to them? Proof of life?”

  She shook her head. “He hung up too fast.”

  “Where was this Carmen last seen?”

  She was looking shaky now, like she was going to puke. He hoped not.

  “Last night, Carmen was at the gym with me. The Street Survival class. Afterward, I told her that I couldn’t see her today. I was worried that something would happen to her. I-I couldn’t explain. She was hurt and angry and stormed out of the locker room.”

  So she thought it was her fault.

  Pucinski had some thoughts on that, too – playing amateur detective just wasn’t smart – but he wasn’t going to share them with her. She was hauling a big load of guilt as i
t was.

  “Sit. Really. Please.” He indicated a chair at the edge of his desk and found a lined tablet. “You’re not related. I can’t officially take a report from you.”

  “So you’re not going to do anything?”

  “I didn’t say that. As soon as you give me the information I need, I’ll send my partner on this case to take a report from the girl’s parents. I’m assuming they don’t know anything about your involvement in The Hunter Case.”

  “Of course not.” Lilith started writing. “I couldn’t tell Mrs. Vargas.”

  “She’ll know soon enough.”

  Lilith’s expression tightened, but she kept writing. When she was done, she handed him the tablet. He checked over the information.

  Just then, DeSalvo wandered in, saying, “I was gonna get some lunch. You want anything?”

  “Perfect timing. I want you to do this before you do anything else.” Pucinski handed over the tablet and explained the situation.

  “Crap!” DeSalvo said. “Uh, sorry, Miss Mitchell.” DeSalvo shook his head. “I can’t believe he’s got two of them now.”

  “Neither can I.”

  “The faster you get going, the sooner we can start looking for her,” Pucinski said.

  “You got it.” DeSalvo nodded to Lilith and left.

  “I need you to do something else, Detective. Get a search warrant for Paul Ensdorf’s home and business.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “If he’s guilty, he has a heart-half that belonged to Hannah. He left the chain for me in my case at the club.”

  “How do you know it was him?”

  “She was wearing it the night she went missing. I saw it on her myself. And before you ask, yes, I’m absolutely positive it was hers.”

  “But you haven’t seen the chain or heart in Ensdorf’s possession.”

  “No.”

  “Sorry. I need probable cause to go before a judge.”

  “I was afraid you would say that.” Lilith sounded discouraged, but she wasn’t finished. “One more thing. What about Rudy Barnes?”

  Pucinski started. Sounded like she’d been a busy amateur sleuth. “You want a search warrant on his place, too?”