by Macy Largo
“Okay. Thanks.” Mark headed for the door, but before he got there, John called out, “You grew up in Mitchell, didn’t you? Did you ever see him?”
Mark’s body stiffened as he turned. After a long moment, he softly spoke. “When I was a kid, I’d heard stories of the murder. One new moon night I took a dare and went looking for the site.”
Another wave of gooseflesh passed over him, and every hair on John’s body that hadn’t been shaved for surgery to fix his broken bones stood on end. “What did you see?”
Mark visibly shuddered. “I saw him get murdered. I had fallen asleep in my car, and when I woke up, I watched the son of a bitch finish raping him and pull out his knife. And when I screamed at him to stop and got out of my car, the son of a whore turned and looked at me and grinned before they both disappeared. If you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it to my dying day. I’ve never told another soul.” He turned and left without a look back.
* * * *
Sarah sat, stunned, as John finished his story.
“So you see,” he finally continued, “I do believe you when you say you have intuition or flashes or whatever.”
“Where was that?”
“Where was what?”
“The spot. Where did your wreck happen?”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Can you take me there?”
“I’d rather not.” It took him a year after regaining the ability to drive to force himself to take that highway. When he rode it with Del, he always closed his eyes a mile before the site, waiting until Del gave the all clear to open them again.
“I have a theory.” She shivered. “A really bad one.”
He stood and grabbed her hand. “The miracle of the computer age. Come on.” He led her to the office and fired up his computer. A moment later he was looking at an official copy of Del’s report on the murder. His fingers slowed over the keyboard as he realized what she wanted to know.
Hesitating, and knowing it wouldn’t change the inevitable result, he pulled up a map and found the location of his wreck.
Silently staring at it for a long moment, it took him a while to admit it.
“Tell me,” she demanded.
He sat back in his chair. “I don’t have to,” he quietly said. “You already know the answer.”
* * * *
John didn’t get any sleep that night after he finally sent Sarah to bed. In the soft early light just after dawn, Del sat at their table and shook his head after John finished telling him about his conversation with Sarah.
“That’s too freaky for words, that they were murdered almost exactly where your wreck happened. You realize it, right?” he asked John.
John suspected Del had been too upset over the discovery of the dead couple and focused on his duties at the time to put that together himself. “Of course I realize it.” He also realized he’d gotten up several times throughout the night, his 9mm in hand, and checked all the windows and doors except for the window in Sarah’s room. He hoped it was locked, but he didn’t want to freak her out by coming in and checking it.
Del blew out a long breath as he held the steaming mug of chamomile tea in front of him. John didn’t dare give him coffee, because he’d never get any sleep. “You’re saying the murder of that boy, and those other accidents, and your wreck, are all somehow tied to a modern-day serial killer?”
“I’m saying that you and I live here and we didn’t even know about the stories. Maybe because my family was from Rapid City and yours from Sioux Falls, but Mark knew about it. Others do. I’m not saying a ghost is murdering people on new moon nights, but I’m saying maybe a local who also heard the stories has decided on a little murder and mayhem of his own. Copycat. Awfully coincidental that one murder happened right in that same spot and their throats were cut.” He thought for a moment. “You had two shootings, a bludgeoning, and now two killed like this.”
“He’s smart enough to vary the pattern,” Del said. “Thinks it’ll throw us off the path.”
“He varied the locations and method. But he’s not smart enough to not kill on a different night of the month.”
Del slowly nodded.
“Why not kill every month once he got a taste for it?”
“He didn’t want to draw suspicion to himself,” Del suggested. “Or maybe that’s accidental, and he didn’t have opportunity.”
“Or maybe he has regularly scheduled trips?” John thought some more. “I’m not an FBI profiler.”
“They’re calling one in.”
“Terrific. Brass will want everyone in with bells on.” He looked at Del. “Are they at least recognizing you for picking up on the pattern a few months before everyone else?”
“Yeah. Mark made note of it, said I’ll get a commendation.”
John’s hand closed over Del’s. “Good. You deserve it.”
“Not that it’ll help Shelly and Dan Engalls.”
* * * *
They showered together before crawling into bed. Del rolled on top of him. “I’m not too exhausted to take care of you this morning.”
“Oh, good. I’m horny as hell.” John smiled. “Fill me up, buttercup.”
Del snickered as he reached over to the bedside table for a bottle of lube. “I’ll fill you up all right.”
John rolled to his side, and Del didn’t need to be psychic to know his lover must be hurting that morning. They both favored missionary, but when in pain, John couldn’t pull his legs up or tolerate doggy style and preferred spooning instead.
Del trailed hot kisses down John’s arm as he curled his body behind him. He reached across his hip and wrapped his fingers around John’s cock. A little pre-come had already leaked from the slit, and he used his thumb to smooth it over the engorged head and sensitive ridge.
John closed his eyes and moaned, working his hips in time with Del’s hand.
“You like that, baby?” Del whispered in his ear before nipping at the lobe. “You like it when I stroke your cock like that?”
“Yeah!”
He let go of John’s cock and brushed his hand up, over his light treasure trail, to his nipples, tormenting them for a while and drawing more happy moans from him.
With his cock rubbing against the seam of John’s ass, it grew hard and ready to play. He quickly slicked himself and nudged into position, sliding home in John’s ass and making both men groan before Del started teasing his cock again.
“How’s my cock feel inside you, baby?” Del asked. John threw his head back, tipping his chin so he could kiss him hard and thrusting his tongue into his lover’s mouth in time with the cock buried in his ass.
“Good!” he finally said when Del let him speak.
He could make love to him all day long, but didn’t want to make John hurt any worse than he did. Before the wreck, it wasn’t uncommon for them to spend more than half a day off in bed together, enjoying each other’s bodies.
“Tell me what you want me to do. Tell me how you want me to fuck this sweet ass of yours.”
John’s head lolled back on Del’s shoulder, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust. “Fuck me hard, baby. Fuck that sweet cock inside my ass so hard you make me come with you.”
Del nipped the side of his neck. “Maybe I want to keep you on edge for a while. Tease you.”
“No, man, I need it. Please, I need you.”
Del’s heart swelled, the longing in his lover’s voice melting him the way it always did. He captured his mouth again in a bruising kiss as his fingers wrapped around John’s cock. He stroked in time with his thrusts, feeling how hot and hard he was, how ready.
Then he increased the tempo, harder, faster, deeper, matching his cock’s pistoning motions with his hand on John’s shaft.
“If you want me to keep fucking you, give it to me, baby,” Del growled in his ear. “Give me that fucking come or I’ll pull out and finish myself.”
“No…ah!” Hot juices coated Del’s hand as John’s body went rigid against him
. Del held him even tighter.
“That’s it, baby. Give it to me.”
When John finally went limp, Del quit holding back. In a few, hard thrusts, he buried his dick deep inside his lover’s chute, hot juices exploding from his balls and racing out his cock. He pressed his mouth against John’s shoulder to muffle the sound of his cries before he too fell limp.
He kissed John between the shoulders. “So fucking good, man. You are so fucking good. Jesus, you have no idea how much I love you.”
A sleepy, satisfied smile curled John’s lips. “You’re not so bad yourself, kid. Love you, too.”
Del smiled at the familiar endearment. They laced fingers and curled up tightly like that, Del’s softening cock still embedded inside John, and fell asleep.
Chapter Five
Sarah sleepily smiled as she smelled coffee. That wasn’t what made her smile, though. The soft, guttural man-grunts coming from behind the door down the hall did that. She closed her eyes again and let the feeling wash over her. Having her crazy psychic flashes was definitely worth it, if she could keep feeling this. That John didn’t think she was crazy was a bonus. She didn’t know if Del would share his lover’s views of her trippy little psychic passenger, but it was enough to know John believed her.
And enough to bask in the metaphorical glow she felt from the men’s love.
With a sigh, she climbed out of bed and went to pour herself some coffee. She grabbed a shower, a content smile plastered to her face. By the time she finished, the house lay quiet, and she sensed they’d both fallen asleep.
Good, they need it.
She fired up her mp3 player and booted her laptop. She could work on her own projects until John got up and gave her another assignment. Working for him meant she could eventually replace her car and have enough money to move down to Miami.
Realistically, she knew there was no way she could ever drive her old Subaru again. Not from the dark energy she felt. She’d worried maybe her own stuff would be tainted by that dark cloud, but when they got everything home, it seemed okay.
The thought of leaving stilled her fingers on the keyboard. If she managed to make it to Miami. The killer was a local, she sensed that. Definitely a man, from the feelings that washed over her and what little she saw of him that night.
She was making herself a sandwich for lunch when John emerged from the men’s bedroom, still looking half-asleep. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Sar. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging this morning.”
She grinned, unable to help herself. “It’s okay. I kept myself busy.” She sat to eat. “Any breaks in the case yet?”
“No. Del said they didn’t get anything usable from the gas station video footage. They saw you pumping gas and looking at the road all of a sudden, but the angles of the cameras didn’t catch the highway. Nothing turned up from other local stations either.”
“Promise me something?”
He was pouring himself a cup of coffee. “What?”
“You guys won’t keep info from me, even if you think it’ll upset me. I need to know.”
He sat down across from her. “That I can promise you.”
Halfway through her sandwich, her appetite departed. “You think I’m right, though, don’t you? That he won’t stop looking for me unless you guys catch him or he kills me first?”
He pursed his lips together before taking a sip of coffee. “Unfortunately, I think you’re absolutely right.”
* * * *
Sarah didn’t miss how John clipped a holstered handgun to his back waistband around nightfall. She also didn’t miss how he checked all the doors and windows several times, including the one in her room, making sure they were locked and the blinds drawn.
“Will he know I’m here?”
He looked at her from the front door, where he’d checked it again for the third time in an hour. “Say again?”
“The killer. Will he know I’m here?”
“I don’t know. I hope not. It depends on who he is and where he’s from. Mitchell’s not a huge town, relatively speaking, but it’s about the largest one between Rapid City and Sioux Falls. Lots of tourists come through here. If he’s from town, and if he’s well-connected, maybe. You want my gut instinct?”
She nodded.
“Right now, I doubt he knows where you are, much less who you are. That doesn’t mean once it hits the newspapers at some point that he won’t narrow down his choices. If he wrote down your license plate, he can find out your name if he’s willing to hire a private eye and pay for the info. I’d be willing to bet we’ve already been in touch with Washington State to put a flag on your file on anyone other than law enforcement trying to access the information. We won’t release your name as a material witness…” He must have realized what he said. “The Highway Patrol won’t release your name.” He smiled. “I was in a lot of years. Hard to remember I’m not on the job anymore sometimes.”
“I’m sorry I’ve dragged you both into this.”
“You didn’t drag us into anything.” He sat next to her on the couch and propped his cane between his legs. “Truthfully, it’s nice having someone else around. Not like you leave toenail clippings in the sink or anything.” He grinned, making her laugh.
“So at least for a few days I’m safe.”
“I’d be willing to bet.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “So chill out, relax, and feel free to gripe about your boss.”
She laughed again. “No complaints so far.”
* * * *
Told that other units would take up the slack, Del had been ordered to stay close to Mitchell on his patrols. There had been talk about mentioning to reporters that “the witness” was still around, to try to bait the killer, but Del put his foot down at the idea of putting her in harm’s way.
Unfortunately, one of the tabloid websites had discovered Robert Thompson’s murder and started asking questions about it. It’d only be a matter of time before they put two and two together. South Dakota wasn’t exactly the death statistics capital of the world, and once someone started plugging accident and homicide locations into Google Earth and coming up with an interesting pattern, it meant all hell would explode.
Del inwardly groaned. He never forgot Mark’s advice to him after John’s wreck that they keep their mouths shut. Del hadn’t been a believer in the supernatural until he saw the video and the evidence Mark showed him.
He also agreed that silence, in that case, wasn’t golden—it was pure platinum. At the time of John’s wreck, they’d been living together six years. They’d met through the job, of course, and started out as roommates before becoming lovers. By the time a few of their closest colleagues caught on to that fact, no one cared because it wasn’t like they went around holding hands or snogging in public.
Joint vacations to places like San Francisco and Key West were welcomed diversions, opportunities to go where no one knew them and they were able to relax without care.
They kept their private life to themselves, although they had a wide circle of friends.
His ears perked up at radio chatter over a traffic stop closer to Sioux Falls, then relaxed when it was just a speeder in a yellow VW Bug. A little after midnight, he stopped by an open convenience store to refill his coffee and empty his bladder. He was chatting with the clerk when Tom Davies walked in, also carrying a large travel mug.
“Hey, Del.” He walked over after filling his mug. “Any news on that case?”
He shook his head. “Nope. The psycho’s still out there.”
“Those vehicles, especially that car, give me the frigging willies, man. The sooner y’all get ’em out of my place, the happier I’ll be.” He hesitated. “The woman that owns that Subaru, she gonna want it, or will she need another?”
“I have a feeling she won’t want it back, but I can’t swear to it. Why?”
“I’ve got a little Ford Ranger for sale. Just got the title yesterday. Liened it for repair costs. I’ll make her a
good deal on it if she wants to come in and look at it.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her when I get home.”
“She staying with you and John?”
“Yeah, poor kid’s scared witless. John gave her a job working for him to help her earn some money. She does web design.”
“I need to talk to him one of these days about doing me a website.” The wrecker driver reached into his grubby work pants pocket for money to pay for his coffee and pulled out a pair of used and inside-out disposable blue nitrile gloves instead. He dumped them into the garbage can at the end of the counter, tried again, and found a few wadded one dollar bills. Del glanced outside and saw a Lexus sedan with Ohio plates loaded on his rollback.
“Breakdown?” Del asked, nodding toward it. He hadn’t heard any calls about a disabled vehicle.
“Yeah, the battery’s toast.” He picked up his change. “I don’t have one that’ll fit it at the shop, and Napa’s closed this time of night, obviously. Tourists staying over at the Motel 6. I’ll have Cindy deliver it to them in the morning. They can run her back.”
“I don’t envy you. At least this kind of weather’s not so bad. Bet you hate winters.”
Tom snorted. “Lived here all my life. Same as you. Rather be here than down in hurricane country.” He grinned. “Besides, I make good money in the winter pulling cars out of snow banks and defrosting engine blocks.” He headed for the door. “Stay safe.”
“You too.” Del watched him return to the wrecker, then realized the clerk, Kendra, was staring at him in wide-eyed fear. “What?”
“That killer’s still out there, right?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s to say he won’t come in here one night?”
“I thought you had a concealed carry license? Didn’t I take your fingerprints myself for the license at the class they had in town?”
“Oh, I’ve got it, and I’m carrying. That don’t mean anything if he’s that crazy.”
Somehow Del figured the last place the killer would want to be was inside the store. He pointed to the six security cameras he knew about, the ones out in the open, as well as the accompanying, “Smile! You’re on camera!” signs. “He’ll pick a target in the middle of nowhere, Kendra. James has this place wired better than a damn TV studio.”
