by Vella Day
“What?”
“I received a call from a Mrs. Szemansky about Jane Doe #4. She thinks the woman may be her granddaughter.”
Kerry grabbed his shoulder and her heat seared his skin. Her smile moved him, sending a rush of desire straight to his groin. Though the dark circles under Kerry’s eyes worried him, her renewed energy gave him a jolt. A car behind them honked.
Green light meant go. He took off.
“That’s great. Did this Mrs. Szemansky give you any details as to why she thought the model might be her granddaughter?”
Before he could answer, a car sped past his cruiser, going at least twenty-five miles over the speed limit. Idiot. While he didn’t stop folks for speeding anymore, he was tempted to put his siren on and tail the guy.
“No. Talking seemed to be an effort for her, so I cut the conversation short. We’ll know soon enough. We’re on our way there now.”
“That’s wonderful news.”
He kept his eyes peeled for the Bearss Avenue exit. Fifteen minutes later he turned off the interstate. After a few turns, he found the woman’s street, near where a prostitute had been brutally slain last week. White paper mixed with brown leaves blew and floated along the side of the road.
Kerry waved the scrap of paper he’d written the directions on. “That’s it.” She pointed to a small, pale yellow house.
Hunter pulled to a stop in front of the mailbox. The grass needed some cutting and the house could use a fresh coat of paint, but the blooming flowers showed someone cared. They slipped out, and he locked the car doors. No use tempting fate, especially around here.
The humidity had taken a small holiday and a cool breeze blew enough to relieve the intense heat. Hunter pressed a hand to her back and led Kerry to the front door. She stiffened but didn’t move out of his reach, a sure sign she was thawing toward him.
A woman in her late sixties answered his knock. The condition of the house was a palace compared to the landscape of the woman’s face. Only because she was standing did he know she was alive.
“Mrs. Szemansky?”
“No. That’s my mother. I’m Bea Flower.” Her voice came out hoarse, like she smoked three packs a day.
He introduced himself and Kerry. “May we come in?”
“Sorry. I don’t know where my manners are.” Shoulders slumped, she showed them in. “Please sit.”
A sweater and a shirt were tossed on the back of the sofa, and two full ashtrays along with a half-full plate of something unrecognizable sat on a side table.
Two kids ran past an elderly woman in a wheelchair, one waving a plastic sword and the other fending off the attack with plastic nunchucks. The old lady smiled a toothless grin. From all the eye rolling and pursed lips, the older girl, who was in her early teens, was doing her best to pretend she was enjoying herself. The younger sister, dressed in a Tae Kwon Do outfit, was screeching and laughing. Both were mirror images of each other.
An unexpected stirring shot through him at the thought of Melissa having another child to play with.
Hunter refocused as he took in the living room. Books and toys littered the room, and a small television that flickered displaying some cartoons had the sound muted. The furniture had mismatched flowered covers tossed over them, and small figurines were stuffed to the max on the bookcase. He sneezed. The dust quotient was out of control.
“Molly and Danielle, go play in the den,” Mrs. Flower yelled. She coughed, and then pulled out a pack of Marlboros.
She lit one, and the acrid tang slid down his throat and made him choke. Damn allergies.
Bea Flower took a deep drag as though it would be her last breath.
Kerry’s face fell, for she too must have sensed this woman was at the end of her proverbial rope.
“Mrs. Szemansky and Mrs. Flower, I’ve brought a photo of the reconstruction.” Hunter handed the picture to Mrs. Flower.
Bea’s hand clawed at her shirt and her face paled. She dropped the photo on her mother’s lap. “It could be my daughter, Deidre. Her eyes were set close together like this woman’s and they both had high cheekbones and a small chin.”
Both waited for the elderly woman to agree or disagree. “The nose isn’t quite right, and Deidre never wore her hair that way.” The elderly woman glanced up. Pain dragged her mouth as she covered the photo with her palm.
“I guessed at the hairstyle,” Kerry said. “Same with the ears, nose and lip thickness.”
Mrs. Szemansky nodded. “Then maybe it is her, but I can’t be positive.”
The older lady flipped the photo face down on her lap, and Hunter took it back from her.
“Can you tell me what happened to Deidre?” Hunter didn’t address either of them in particular.
The smell of popcorn floated in from the kitchen. The kids giggled, as if they knew they should wait for dinner.
“Deidre and Trent were married fifteen years ago,” Bea Flower began. “Everything was going real good until about two years ago.” She turned back toward the kitchen. “Deidre was supposed to be at work. She had two jobs, you know, trying to support the family. She did some accounting work for an elderly gentleman. When took sick one day, she came home early.”
Bea took another drag and seemed to savor the taste, the smell, and the high. “She, ah, caught Trent pawing Molly—she’s Deidre’s eldest. Molly was only twelve at the time.”
Kerry drew in an audible breath and squeezed the arms of the chair. “That’s despicable.” A small bubble flew from her mouth, and she swiped her lips.
He wanted to take Kerry away and comfort her, but she’d protest and insist they finish the interview.
“What happened?” Hunter kept his voice low, but his heart pounded in his chest at the injustice.
“They were at their house, mind you, so I only heard this second hand. Deidre went after him with a kitchen knife. That’s when things got real ugly. She cut him on the arm. He then grabbed the knife from her and sliced up her face. Deidre was able to reach the phone and call 9-1-1. Trent got scared and split.”
Hunter scribbled a note to himself to look up the call. “Were charges filed?”
“Yes. The bastard’s in jail, thank God. Doesn’t help Molly though. He already ruined her. She’s only now enjoying herself again.”
So much for the husband killing the wife. “Mrs. Flower, if the woman we have in the morgue is your daughter, did you know she was pregnant?”
Bea’s hand flew to her mouth and her brows arched. She choked out a response. “No.” Her body crumpled onto the chair next to them, her breaths rapid.
“Was she dating anyone?” With her hubby already in jail, Deidre would have been with someone at least two to three months before her death.
It took a moment before she answered. “Yes. Chris. Chris Auger. He showed no interest in the kids, so Deidre thought he was safe. Too bad he wasn’t nice to my daughter.”
“Was she injured again?”
Her bottom lip protruded over her top lip. “Yes, but Deidre claimed she’d been in a car accident. Her injury occurred right before she disappeared. She said the airbag exploded and smashed her face up pretty bad. Broke the bone above her eye, but I never believed her.”
“Did you think Chris abused her?”
“Yes. I didn’t have the heart to ask the kids about it. I didn’t want to scare them.”
“Can you give me Chris’ address?” He’d definitely check out the guy.
“Sure.” She reached into the coffee table drawer and withdrew a notebook. “Here it is.”
Hunter copied it down.
“Did she have surgery to repair the eye socket?” Kerry asked.
Hunter was glad Kerry had popped back to the realm of the living.
Bea sniffled. “Yes. She went to a plastic surgeon.” A hint of a smile lifted one corner of her lips. “And then she sent the bill to Chris. Apparently, when he saw the amount for the procedure, he went ballistic. Deidre called me that night, crying, saying she had to
leave him. She was worried about the children. I told her I’d watch the kids while she figured out what to do.” Her lips trembled. “That was the last time I heard from her.”
Hunter had to ask as Kerry looked lost in thought again. “Do you recall the name of this surgeon?”
“Yes. I’ll never forget. She was so excited he made room for her in his busy schedule. It was Dr. Dalton. He works over on 56th Street.”
Anger stabbed at him. Proof. Somehow he’d get the proof the bastard killed those women. “Thank you.”
Hunter stood and Kerry reached out a hand to stop him. “Mrs. Flower, do you have a hairbrush of Deidre’s?” She explained the DNA process.
“Everything of hers is boxed up in the garage. I suppose I can look through her things.”
“We’d appreciate it.”
Hunter grabbed Kerry’s hand. It was cold and lifeless. Something other than losing her baby had thrown her for a loop while talking to Mrs. Flower, and he was determined to find out what had shaken her to the core.
27
Kerry suggested Domino’s Pizza for a dinner to-go. She sure as hell didn’t feel like cooking. Hunter agreed and picked up a large Pepperoni pizza along with a couple of Cokes.
As they headed home, she couldn’t pry her mind off of poor Molly. How could a father touch his own daughter? It was beyond detestable.
Her mind skipped back in time. Dad and Susan—together. That was worse than a snake slithering into your crotch while your hands and legs were tied.
Move on, Kerry before you break down and cry. She swiped a tissue across her nose but refused to let the tears fall.
Hunter jerked the cruiser to a stop in front of their remote cabin but left the engine running and the air conditioner going full blast. Pinpricks of light filtered across the pond from the neighbors.
He faced her. “You haven’t said much since we left Bea Flower’s place. Is something wrong?”
Now it was Hunter’s turn to question her silence? “Her story is sad, that’s all.” She tried to brush it off, hoping he’d drop the topic. Her own ache cut too deep.
He rubbed her arm. “There’s something more, isn’t there? Her story hit home.”
His tender tone flipped a switch inside her brain. Dare she tell him about the abuse, how unloved she’d felt her whole life? Light from the three-quarter moon mingled with the illumination from the front porch lamp and streamed inside the cab. His blue eyes pooled with sympathy.
Tell him. Tell him.
“Yes, there’s more.” There. She’d said it, though she had no idea how he’d take her confession. She felt like she’d jumped off a cliff into the warm water below. Were there ragged rocks under the surface, or soft sand?
Hunter took her hand. This time she didn’t pull away.
“Tell me.”
Kerry inhaled. “My father abused my sister.” She waited for a negative reaction but none came. His hands clasped hers more firmly, urging her on. “It wasn’t until this visit that I learned Susan had protected me from my own father, the man I thought I could trust. All these years, I believed she’d left me to go play with her friends. I thought Susan was like my mom who frequently deserted us to audition for some play, but I had been so wrong about my sister.” Kerry pulled one hand from his grasp and wiped her eyes. “I’ve lost so many years of knowing her. Susan suffered a lot more than I ever did.”
Then the dam broke. Tears gushed from her eyes and down her face. Sobs racked her body. Hunter drew her close and caressed her back with a tender hand, helping to calm her. Kerry struggled to push back the guilt, the betrayal, and the lost time. She sniffed.
“You were young, right?”
“Yes, but I should have f-f-found out about what my dad was doing to Susan. I was so angry when my sister didn’t come to our mother’s funeral, I never stopped to think she may have had a good reason.” Kerry used the hem of her shirt to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I didn’t know she was in hiding from her abusive boyfriend either.” The guilt nearly made her burst into tears again, the vulnerability still raw. “Once my parents died, I balled up all my insecurities and fears and placed them on her.”
Hunter looked upward for a moment, and then lowered his chin. He stroked her cheek. “I can understand why you reacted the way you did.”
She believed him. For the first time in her life, someone understood who she was and how the events in her life had shaped her as a person. “Thank you.”
“It’s not your fault you jumped to that conclusion,” Hunter said. “Abuse is insidious. It causes all kinds of hurt. You did what you had to do and so did Susan. You protected yourself by building a wall around your heart.”
She sucked in a sob. Could the man really see into her soul?
He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. “As long as we’re sharing our deepest, darkest secrets, you might as well hear mine.”
She swallowed, her pulse speeding. “Is it about your wife?”
“No, my sister, Denise.” He gazed at the ceiling. “Man, she was amazing. She had the brains of the family.” He let out a low chuckle. “Ivy League education, followed by Harvard law. She even became a prosecuting attorney at a prestigious, downtown law firm. She was unstoppable when it came to going after the bad guys. Denise was my hero.” His tone came out wistful.
“What happened to her?” Kerry’s heart nearly split from the pain pouring off him.
He cupped his hands behind his head. “Someone broke into her house one night and bludgeoned her to death. He then dumped her body in an orange grove not far from here.” His lips curled. “Left her there to rot. It was months before a migrant worker found her body.”
Kerry gasped and grabbed his arm. “I’m so sorry. Was Denise older?”
“Yeah, by ten years. I was a senior in college when the police found her. That’s when I decided to go back to school and go for another degree, this time in law enforcement.”
Her heart nearly broke at the trauma he’d suffered. “What had you majored in the first time?”
“Math, can you believe it?”
“From the way you analyze every situation, yes I can.”
“I’m happy I moved into law enforcement though.”
For that she was glad. “Did they find her killer?”
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “No. All that was left of my sister was her bones. It took them quite a while to even identify her.”
The image of the four women skated across her mind. “Oh, Hunter. Seeing those women in the graves must have been so difficult for you.”
The pieces to the puzzle slipped into place. Hunter’s passion and his loner attitude probably stemmed in part from Denise’s death. Toss in a wife who he believed died because of his carelessness, and she could see why he acted so protective toward her.
“Yes. I kept thinking one of them could have been Denise.” He looked over at her. “I think we should go inside.”
“Sure.”
Hunter grabbed the pizza, cut the engine, and jetted out of the seat to come around to her side. He pulled open the door, and she swung her legs out. He cradled his arm around her waist and helped her stand. Their gazes caught. Naked. Vulnerable. Trusting.
Trust? Did she trust him? Her heart screamed, yes. She’d shared her innermost fears and he’d shared his. Both understood each other’s pain.
Hunter set the box on the car roof and then reached behind her to close the passenger door. He guided her back against the cruiser, never taking his gaze off her. His lips parted and her heart stopped. The grief that had speared and shredded her composure raced to the far recesses of her mind. Hunter was hurting, just like she was. They were one.
The wind whistled through the trees. Pine scented the air. She inhaled to enjoy the moment and to forget the past. His hands cupped her chin and raised her face a notch. Kerry sealed her mind from the hurt, from the pain, from the despair, and allowed only Hunter to enter her soul...her heart.
The second hi
s lips met hers, her body melted against him. It was as if she’d finally given herself permission to let go and explore. Her fingers molded over his sculpted chest. The censure in her mind gave a final gasp, and she dared to move her itchy fingers lower. She pulled his shirt from his pants as her tongue dipped into his mouth that tasted of cinnamon, spicy, and everything nice.
After a few tugs and a couple of popped buttons, his shirt drifted downward and pooled around their feet. Hunter undid her blouse and bra and dropped them. She leaned back to catch her breath, to look at his marvelous body that was rippled and tough and amazingly sexy.
He flicked a thumb over her hard nipple. “I think we should go inside. It’s too hot out here—and too buggy.” His voice turned raspy.
“Yes.” The inside of a volcano would be cooler, though she was sure it wasn’t the air temperature heating her core.
The gentle breeze kissed her nipples as she wrapped her arms around his neck and backpedaled into the house. No way was she going to let him go. Not now, not ever.
Over his shoulder, Kerry caught sight of Hunter’s blue shirt and her white lacy bra strewn on the ground.
xxxHunter kissed her all the way into the house. He picked her up and crossed the bedroom threshold. They tumbled onto his bed with the cool, crumpled sheets that smelled like him—all man and musky.
When he nipped her breast with his teeth, a torrent of lust slammed her so hard she couldn’t breathe. She loved the way he kissed and couldn’t wait to explore the hard planes and contours of his body and face. He was all muscle, sinew, and raw power. Kerry’s heart wanted to go slow, but her body wanted warp speed. God, she felt like a nervous virgin.
Hunter pulled off her shoes and pants with ease, and then cupped her hot sex. She sucked in a breath. Not letting him have the upper hand, she grabbed his crotch. Oh my God. His erection peeked above his low cut jeans, straining to get out.
Her eyes widened. Hunter laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”
Her mind froze for a moment. How could she go from zero to sixty in five seconds? Was she rushing into something she shouldn’t?
