“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Doug said with as much disinterest as he could muster.
His chair squeaked in protest as he leaned both elbows on the desk and flipped through pictures of the crime scene and Ronald’s mutilated body. He had to get his head back in the game. Running his hands over his face, he turned his attention to the file on his desk, unwilling to look at Tom.
They’d only been partners for about two years, but the guy knew him better than almost anyone on the planet—the only one who knew him better was his former partner, Pete.
He could feel Tom staring at him.
“What?” Doug asked without looking up.
Tom’s desk butted up against his, and their computers were back-to-back, which normally worked out great, but right now it felt too close for comfort. Doug never told a soul about the sexy dreams he had of the mysterious redhead, and he would be damned if he was going to start now. If he was going to tell anyone, it would be Tom, but the middle of a murder investigation was not the time to talk about dreams.
He would have told Pete, but he had barely spoken to the guy in months. He had gotten really reclusive ever since he got married, and there was something else different about him too. Doug could not pinpoint what it was, and that nagged at him. He hated not being able to figure it out, but it was more than that. He missed his friend.
Tom leaned closer and lowered his voice, so that none of the other cops in the room would hear him. “You’ve got a serious hard-on for that tall drink of water from the club, and don’t try to deny it.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the other cops sitting outside the captain’s office playing games on their cell phones. Everyone was trying to stay awake and kill time before the shift change.
“In the two years I’ve known you, you have never been at a loss for words, and tonight you actually forgot how to speak for a second. I think all the blood rushed to your dick and out of that college-boy brain.”
“Me?” Doug responded with a wry grin and peered past the computer at his partner. “You practically drooled all over that Maya chick, and she’s a potential suspect.”
“You know I’ve always been a sucker for blonds,” he said with a wink.
Doug chuckled and shook his head. “Isn’t she a little young for you, old man?”
“Age is a state of mind, my friend.”
“Then that would make you about twelve.”
“Probably.” Tom laughed loudly and sat back in his chair as he scratched his balding head. “I’m sure my two ex-wives would agree. It’s a good thing I never had any kids. They would’ve ended up outgrowing me.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what happened with your last wife.”
“Most likely.” Tom groaned as he pushed himself out of his chair. “I’ll learn from my mistakes one of these days.” He shrugged on his jacket. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“You go ahead.” Doug waved and turned his attention back to the folder on his desk. “I want to check out a few more details before I head out.”
“Shit,” Tom sighed and started to take off his coat. “And here I thought I was going home before the sun came up.”
“Get off the cross, Tom,” Doug said without looking up. “There’s only room for Jesus.”
Tom burst out laughing and ran a hand over his head. “You sure, kid?”
“I’m only staying a few more minutes. I just want to see if I can find more information about that bartender he was hanging out with. Maybe she’s got a pissed off ex-boyfriend. Go on. Get the hell out of here. I’ll see you back here tonight, and we’ll hit it again.”
Tom waved as he disappeared through the doorway, and Doug heard his boisterous voice as he said good-bye to the various people he passed on his way downstairs. He shook his head and smirked. Tom was anything but stealthy, which was probably why he never did undercover work.
Doug jotted a few more observations in his notebook, mostly notes to himself about going back to the club and interviewing that bartender again. He knew in his gut that she was not the killer, but he also had a hunch she knew more than she was letting on. Getting to see Olivia again would be an added bonus. Doug shut down his computer, snagged his cell phone, and stuck it in his pants pocket.
“Night guys.”
The other detectives waved absently and mumbled their good-byes as Doug headed downstairs and passed through the front lobby of the precinct. He pushed open the heavy door and sucked in a deep breath of the late spring morning. Darkness would soon be replaced by gray as the sun crept its way up, but he reveled in the last breath of the fading night.
An array of city smells assaulted his senses. Garbage and exhaust from the passing cars dominated, but the fresh smell of bread baking from Spinelli’s Bakery around the corner managed to make it tolerable.
However, the moment his feet hit the sidewalk, his phone buzzed, and he cursed under his breath. A text at this hour was rarely good news.
His brow furrowed as he read the message.
Can you come down here? There’s something I want to show you.
It was from one of the coroners in the medical examiner’s office, but not just any coroner. Dr. Miranda Kelly was his ex-girlfriend.
Be there in 10. He texted a response quickly and stuffed the phone in his pocket.
Thank God for texting. He hated talking on the phone, and with an ex it was always better to keep communication to a minimum. It helped avoid the awkwardness that inevitably followed after he ended a relationship with a girlfriend.
Well, girlfriend was probably a generous description. They slept together a few times, and she wanted more, but he simply was unable go there. He never could, and likely never would. Luckily, they were able to maintain a professional relationship, at least so far.
He felt like a shithead. He did not want to hurt her. Doug knew the more he prolonged any type of physical relationship would only make breaking it off worse. Hell, he didn’t relish being alone night after night, but he knew it was better that way. Better to bail out in the beginning before anyone had a chance to really get hurt. No ties. No commitments. That was the way to go and the way he lived his life. At first it was circumstance, and after a while it became the norm.
Commitments.
He wondered if Olivia had any commitments. His jaw set at the idea of her with another man, which was ridiculous. He barely knew the woman, so what right did he have to suffer from caveman-like territorialism? None at all. But that did not squelch the jealousy that bubbled up from the mere idea of her with another man.
His thoughts went to Ronald Davis and the bartender Maya. She was a pretty thing, and he bet that plenty of men wanted to claim her. Maybe Olivia could fill him in on the bartender’s private life?
Doug snagged his phone out of his jacket and stopped at the corner as he fished around in his back pocket for Olivia’s business card. He found the private number, dialed it, and pressed send before he could talk himself out of it.
She was probably sleeping.
He told himself that he would leave a message, and that was it. As the phone rang in his ear he knew he was full of shit. He just wanted to talk to her, to hear that sweet voice one more time.
Doug squeezed his eyes shut as it rang for the fourth time, and as he was about to chicken out and hit the end button—she answered.
“Hello?” Her honeyed voice drifted into his head, and his body froze as he struggled to remember why he called in the first place. The dagger on his back tingled. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
“Ms. Hollingsworth?” Doug said after clearing his throat. “It’s Detective Paxton. I—I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No,” she said with the hint of a smile in her voice. “I’m wide awake. What can I do for you?”
“I needed to ask one more question about Maya, your bartender.” Doug leaned against the brick wall of the building and watched two pigeons fight over a piece of hot dog bun. “Did she have an old boyfri
end, the jealous type? Maybe someone who might be bothered by her flirtatious behavior with Ronald Davis?”
Silence hung on the line. Doug butted his head against the wall as he prayed she would not see through his bullshit reason for calling.
“His attack was particularly savage, a crime of passion. If it had been some random attack or mugging, there would be one, or maybe two, wounds, but Davis was hacked up.” Doug opened his eyes again and watched as the pigeons hopped out of the path of an oncoming car. “This was like an act of revenge, completely rage-driven.”
“I’m sorry, but Maya doesn’t ever stick with one guy for long.” Olivia laughed softly. “She likes to play the field, so to speak, and rarely goes out with the same guy twice. I wish I had more helpful information for you.”
Doug stuck his free hand in his pocket and fiddled with her business card.
“Actually, that is helpful.” He started walking again toward Miranda’s office. “Looks like we can rule out an old boyfriend, and sometimes ruling things out is the quickest way to get to where we want to be.” He paused before continuing, knew asking the next question was a mistake, and asked it anyway. “How about you, Ms. Hollingsworth?”
“Me?” she asked in a low, husky voice.
“It was your club he was hanging out at. Could you have an enemy or an old boyfriend who wants to cause trouble?”
To his surprise, she laughed. It was a smoky, sexy laugh that made him stop dead in his tracks. He fought the urge to turn and go back to the club so he could hear it in person, but he shook his head and kept on his present course.
“No, detective.”
“Doug,” he interrupted.
“Alright,” she said through a chuckle. “No, Doug, I don’t have any enemies, at least none that would’ve messed with Ronald Davis, and I definitely don’t have any old boyfriends looking to cause trouble.”
“Current boyfriend?” he asked quietly as he looked over his shoulder, worried that someone would overhear.
“No,” she said slowly. “I’m quite single. Not so much as a dinner date in a long time. You could say that it feels like centuries.”
Doug stopped at the corner and looked both ways before jogging across the street.
“How about Mexican?”
“Mexican boyfriends?”
“No.” Doug laughed loudly and ran one hand over his head. “Mexican food. Do you like Mexican food?”
Nail-biting silence filled the line as he waited for her to respond. He started to sweat. Doug suspected he overstepped his bounds, and just as he was about to take it back, she answered.
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“That depends.”
“Oh really?” She laughed again. “On what?”
“Would you say yes?”
“Maybe.”
Doug tried to suppress the grin that bubbled up. She was flirting with him as much as he was with her.
“Maybe, huh?”
“Is there anything else that I can do for you?”
Doug bit his tongue because he thought of about a hundred different things she could do for him, to him, and with him, but instead, he replied, “I’ll be sure to let you know. Don’t leave town or anything,” he said playfully. “I may have a question or two tomorrow.”
“I can assure you that I’m not going anywhere, except to bed… alone.”
Before he could say another word, she hung up, leaving him with the beginnings of a hard-on and a blanket of guilt. Doug shook his head and stuck the phone in his pocket. He really was going off the deep end. Asking her out in the middle of an investigation? What the hell was wrong with him?
Doug made it the rest of the way to the examiner’s office in record time. He was beat and wanted nothing more than to crash in his crappy apartment and sleep for a week, but his curiosity about Miranda’s text trumped his exhaustion.
He peered through the small window on the door to the exam room and saw Miranda perched over the body of Ronald Davis. He swung it open and was instantly hit with the stink of death and antiseptic. Doug knew he should be used to the smell by now, but it still made his stomach lurch.
Miranda glanced over her shoulder and waved him closer. “Thanks for coming.”
Her brown hair was tied back tightly and went well with her strictly business attitude. She was professional, which made the tension in his shoulders ease, but it flared again when he set eyes on Ronald’s mutilated body. Granted, some of the damage was from the autopsy—but not the worst of it.
“Someone did a fucking number on this guy,” Doug said without looking at Miranda.
This was definitely a crime of passion. Doug would bet money that if Maya had not pissed off an old boyfriend, perhaps Ronald cock-blocked someone else.
“Someone or something,” Miranda said evenly.
“What do you mean?” Doug asked warily.
He turned his attention to Miranda and shifted his weight when her serious brown eyes met his. To his surprise, she removed the protective eyeglasses and burst out laughing.
“Relax, Paxton.” She held both gloved hands up in surrender. “I’m not going to jump your bones or stab you with a scalpel.”
A smile cracked his face, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Am I that transparent?”
“Pretty much,” she said, dropping her hands. “We had fun. I’m married to my job, and you… well, you’re married to not being married.”
“Right.” He nodded, but a little voice inside said, nope.
Not that he had anything against marriage as an institution, but he had a hunch he would suck at it. Besides, in his experience, most people leave. His father split before he was born. His mother died. Foster families were like layovers at random airports. You never stayed for long, and if you did, you wished like hell you didn’t.
Miranda shook her head and put the glasses back on as she turned Ronald Davis’s head, giving Doug a better view of his neck. “Look at this,” she said, pointing at the jagged wounds. “This wasn’t done by a knife or any other kind of weapon, at least not one that I can match it to.”
Doug squinted and leaned closer. “How the hell can you tell? It looks like chopped meat.”
“The edges are jagged.” She stepped away from the autopsy table and stripped off her latex gloves before tossing them into a wastebasket. “I thought it might be a dog bite, so I swabbed the wound and had a closer look.”
She went to a table on the other side of the room, which was littered with various pieces of lab equipment, and tossed her glasses on the counter. Miranda leaned back on the edge of the counter and nodded toward the microscope next to her.
“Have a look.”
Doug sighed. “Give me the short version. I won’t even know what I’m looking at.”
“Oh, you’re no fun.” She crossed her arms, and he knew she wanted him to play her game, but he held his ground. “Fine.” She sighed. “There was saliva in the wound, but it wasn’t from a dog.” She grabbed a folder and held it out. “I had a sample from that pit bull attack we had a couple of weeks ago and compared it to the saliva that I found on Ronald. No match. It wasn’t a dog.”
Dread crawled up his back as he glanced at the data she handed him. “It’s not another fucking freak biting people again, is it? The press will have a damn field day. I can see the headline now: Zombies in New York.”
“No, it’s not from a person either.”
Doug furrowed his brow and glanced at Ronald’s body. “I don’t get it. If it wasn’t a dog or some doper hopped up on crack, then what was it?”
“I don’t know, but he’s practically drained of blood. From what the crime scene report said, there wasn’t much at the scene.”
“I know.” Doug nodded. “He was killed somewhere else and dumped where we found him.”
Miranda pushed herself off the counter and met his concerned gaze. “I’m sending the sample to the lab for analysis.”
“Shit. You mean we could have some psycho
out there with a vicious animal that’s attacking people?” Doug ran a hand through his hair and gave her back the folder. “How long is that gonna take?”
Miranda let out a short laugh. “A few weeks, if you’re lucky.”
“Damn.” Doug sighed. “Those guys on television have it easy. They get their answers after the first commercial break.”
“I’ll see if I can get them to move it along, but you know how things work.” She gave him a weak smile. “You look exhausted. When was the last time you slept?”
“Don’t ask.” He lifted one shoulder. “Sleep is overrated.”
Silence hung between them. Her pale brown eyes looked at him with the unmistakable twinkle of invitation. He knew she still wanted him. Hell, Miranda was beautiful and smart, and most guys would probably give their left nut to go home with her. Up until a few hours ago, he probably would have asked her to come back to his place, but all he could think about was Olivia Hollingsworth.
He didn’t even know the woman. What was his problem?
The sound of the door opening caught his attention and interrupted what was sure to be an awkward exit. Miranda cleared her throat and went back to that strictly business attitude that she wore when he first arrived.
A young guy, probably no more than twenty-two, stood there holding the door open. He pushed his glasses up with his free hand and glanced nervously between the two.
“What is it, Henry?” Miranda asked with mild irritation.
“Sorry to interrupt you, Dr. Kelly, but you asked me to come and get you at five fifteen because you always forget what time it is and don’t remember to eat.”
He let out a short, nervous laugh and pushed his glasses back up his nose.
“Of course,” Miranda said with less bite than before. “Thank you, Henry.”
“Um, you also said that you would be willing to have a look at my thesis over coffee.” He flicked a glance to Doug, who was doing his best not to laugh at the poor kid. “Would—would that still be a possibility?”
“Absolutely. Why don’t you grab a table in the cafeteria, and I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Kelly.” The kid tripped and stumbled out the door.
Tall, Dark, and Vampire ditc-1 Page 5
