Dance With Me

by Kristen Proby

  “Of course, you didn’t.”

  “I was so fucked up after it happened.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head mournfully. “And I will admit—to you—that I thought about killing myself.”

  My hands fist on the countertop, the movement catching her eye.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No. Keep going.”

  She pauses. “I had it all planned out. I had a bottle full of a mish-mash of pills that I’d been prescribed for anxiety and insomnia. A bunch of stuff. And I was just going to take them all at once and go to sleep.”

  My gut churns. My eyes burn. The thought of Starla hurting herself, of never knowing her is a searing slash to my very soul.

  “What stopped you?”

  “Meredith called me that afternoon and said she was on her way to spend a few days with me. That Mark had things handled at home, and she wanted to be with me. It gave me something to be happy about. Something to look forward to. And I knew that if I followed through with my plan, she and Jax would be devastated, and I didn’t want to put them through that.

  “So, I took the bottle into the bathroom and flushed all of the pills. Since then, I still don’t sleep well, but I refuse to take meds for it. I never fill the prescriptions. It’s not because I want to hurt myself, but because I don’t want them. I have been doing fine.”

  I shift my head to the side as if what she said didn’t make sense at all.

  Because it doesn’t.

  “Everything you just said does not sound fine.”

  “I know, but I really am. After the first six months or so, I fell into a rhythm. Record, promote, tour. Over and over again. Constant work. Come to Seattle to see Jax and Mer and the kids, then back to it. I worked hard, and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished in the past five years. My career has skyrocketed, thanks to that hard work.”

  “And you’re dizzy and passing out.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “I went to the doctor and took his advice to rest. I hated the idea of it, trust me, but here I am. And it worked out because I reconnected with you, and I get to see Mer and Jax whenever I want. I’m writing songs, and I’m dancing, but I’m not fixated on the work anymore.

  “And, yes, I feel guilty that I enjoy you so much. That not just the sex but everything feels amazingly easy with you. Rick would not want that. But, damn it, I’m here, and I’m not going to just exist anymore. I’m going to live my life.”

  “Good girl,” I whisper, watching her from the other side of the island. I want to hurry to her and sweep her into my arms, kiss her silly.

  “You can run away if you want to. I wouldn’t blame you. I’m a mess.”

  I stand, but I don’t run away. I walk around to her and pull her against me, smiling against her hair when she clings to me in relief.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Okay. Good.” She kisses my bare chest. “You should have put a shirt on because telling you that story when you’re half-naked was really distracting.”

  “You did great.”

  My phone rings beside the bed in the early morning light, and I answer before the first ring is finished.

  “Crawford,” I whisper as I pad to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

  “Hey, it’s Matt Montgomery. Sorry to call so early, but I’m at the Lubbock residence. Jeremy and Karen. You were here a couple of days ago?”

  “Yeah, he’s being stalked by Francesca Smith.”

  “You might want to get over here,” Matt says grimly. “Now.”

  “On my way.”

  I don’t question him further. I end the call and splash cold water on my face and over my hair. I quickly brush my teeth, push my fingers through my hair, and walk into the bedroom to pull on some clothes.

  “What is it?” Starla asks from the bed, her voice heavy with sleep. She actually slept the entire night.

  “I need to go follow up on a case I had a few days ago. There’s an emergency, it seems. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “I’m fine,” she insists and rubs her eyes. “Honestly, I am. Go do your job. I’m safe here.”

  I prop my hands on my hips and watch her. The threat yesterday was real, and not something to take lightly.

  “I’ll assign a uniform to sit on the street in an unmarked car.”

  “There’s no need for that.”

  “Humor me.” I kiss her lips and hurry out. “I’ll call when I can.”

  “Bye!”

  It’s before six, so the drive through the city to the other side of town doesn’t take long. The Lubbock house has been taped off, and the street is blocked off with cruisers.

  “Crawford,” I say immediately to the uniform at the door.

  “Yes, sir. Montgomery is inside.” He passes me a pair of sterile booties to go over my shoes.

  I nod and step in, then stop in my tracks.

  There is blood everywhere. On the walls, the floor, up the stairs to the second floor.

  Red and fresh.

  “Jesus,” I mutter, pulling latex gloves out of my pocket and immediately pulling them on, then slip the booties over my shoes. This crime scene is intense and won’t be tainted with any of my prints or DNA.

  I’m too fucking smart for that.

  “Up here,” Montgomery calls out, and I do my best to avoid most of the blood on the stairs as I climb them. “In the bedroom.”

  I stop at the doorway. “What do we have?”

  Matt squats beside the body of Francesca. “This is one of two vics.”

  “Where’s the other?”

  His eyes turn up to mine. “In the bathroom. Before you go in there, know that it’s maybe the most gruesome thing I’ve ever seen in my twenty years on the force.”

  I cock a brow. “I take it that’s where all the blood came from? Because she’s not stabbed.” I indicate Francesca’s prone form.

  “Affirmative,” Matt says with a nod. “Francesca was shot. Once.”

  And from the looks of it, in the head.

  I walk into the bathroom and have to close my eyes against the immediate onslaught of nausea. I’ve seen everything on this job.

  Or I thought I had, until this.

  “Fuck me,” I mutter and feel Montgomery walk up behind me, taking in the scene with me.

  “Yeah.”

  Karen Lubbock, or what’s left of her, is in the bathtub. She’s cut from her throat to her pubic bone, and all of her internal organs are no longer internal. More blood practically paints the walls and pools on the floor. Her head is scalped. Her eyes are gouged out.

  I glance into the sink and have to cover my mouth. “Are those her teeth?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Fuck, Matt, she literally dismantled her.”

  “We think Karen answered the door to Fran, and Fran immediately stabbed her, pushing her inside. Kept stabbing her, and dragged her up the stairs, through the bedroom, and in here. Karen was long dead when she was disemboweled.”

  “She was more than disemboweled,” I reply. “I don’t even know what this is.”

  “Jeremy Lubbock was at work, working an extra night shift. Whether Fran knew that or not, we don’t know.”

  “She probably did.” I bend over and look in the tub, then immediately regret my decision. “Was she pregnant?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jesus Christ, Matt.”

  “Jeremy came in and found them. He retrieved his handgun and shot Fran. Once. Then called us.”

  “Where is he? And the kids?”

  “His parents came to get the kids, and he’s at the police station, giving a statement and being evaluated.”

  I walk out of the bathroom, unable to look any longer at the holes in Karen’s head where her eyes should be.

  Fran is on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Lifeless.

  “I arrested her two days ago for stalking and harassment. She bit the hell out of Anderson, sending him to the hospital.”

  “I know,” Matt sa
ys. “She posted bail yesterday morning.”

  “And came here seeking revenge.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “She was one fucked-up woman. You’re not going to charge him.” It’s not a question, and Matt shakes his head no.

  “It was self-defense.”

  “Agreed. God. How can I help?”

  “I’ll need copies of your reports, and Jeremy asked to speak to you. So, if you don’t mind going to the office and talking with him, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Done. What do you say to someone whose pregnant wife was literally gutted in his bathroom?”

  Matt just shakes his head. “I’m so fucking pissed off, I would kill her myself if he hadn’t finished the job. And that makes me a shitty cop.”

  “It makes you a good cop and a good man. You have a wife.”

  “And a baby on the way,” he says. “I can’t imagine it.”

  “The medical examiner on the way?”

  “He’s outside. I asked him to wait until after you got here. I’d also like you to take a look around, make sure nothing is different from two days ago when you were here. I don’t want to miss anything.”

  “I’ll look around on my way out, but aside from the blood, nothing stands out.”

  He nods, and I walk out, checking through the rooms I was in before. It doesn’t look like Fran was in there. Nothing is broken or moved. Nothing seems suspicious.

  But when I turn to walk outside, one word is written in red on the back of the door.

  Mine.

  ~Starla~

  I’ve gone over this line sixty times, and I just can’t get it right. I don’t love the melody, and I certainly don’t like the lyrics.

  I lean my forehead on the piano. I’ve been at it too long. I’m tired, which is unusual for me at midnight, but I can’t go to bed.

  I haven’t heard from Levi all day. I knew he was busy at work, so I didn’t try to text or call until after six, but he never responded.

  And that’s not like him.

  I didn’t want to seem like the crazy girlfriend, so I didn’t try again, but I’m worried now. And maybe a little crazy.

  So, I try to call again, but it goes to voicemail.

  I know he keeps the ringer on for work, so either something’s wrong, or he’s ghosting me. Both options give me anxiety.

  I decide to throw caution to the wind and call Lia.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Starla. I know it’s super late, so I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  “You didn’t,” she assures me. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but I haven’t heard back from Levi all day, and I’m kind of worried. Have you guys talked to him?”

  “I haven’t, but let me ask Wyatt.” She doesn’t cover the phone when she turns her attention to her husband, who must be sitting close by. “Have you talked to Levi tonight? . . . When? . . . Is he okay?”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he talked to him earlier this evening. Levi was at home.”

  I stand and march to my handbag, grabbing it and my keys.

  “What’s his address?”

  She rattles it off. “Oh, you can park under his building in one of the guest slots.”

  “Perfect, thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  She hangs up, and I hurry to my car, pull out of the driveway, and head toward town, following the instructions on the GPS on my phone.

  I notice that the cop who’s been parked outside my place all day follows me, but I don’t care.

  The least Levi could have done was text me back to tell me that he was okay and just needed some time alone. Hell, I understand needing some space. Needs space is my middle name.

  But ignoring me? That’s not okay. And, yes, I see the irony here. If this is half as bad as he felt when I didn’t reply to him after our first night together, I feel even worse about it now. That was a bitchy thing to do, and I’ll regret it forever.

  I find his address, and just like Lia said, I pull under the building and find an empty space marked guest. I hurry to the elevator and punch in his floor.

  When the doors open, I hurry out and down the hallway to his door, pounding on it when I get there.

  It takes about thirty seconds for him to answer. Maybe he was asleep? I don’t know, but when he pulls open the door, I scowl at what I see before me.

  Levi’s hair is disheveled, his face is dark with stubble, and he’s only wearing boxers.

  “If I interrupted you with someone—”

  “For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, taking my hand and pulling me inside. “No one is here, Star.”

  “Were you sleeping?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” He sinks into a reclining chair and rubs his hand over his eyes. There’s a bottle of scotch next to him, along with a half-full glass.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “No.” His brown eyes hold mine as I perch on the edge of the couch across from him.

  “You look horrible.”

  I want to climb into his lap and hold him tightly, to assure him that whatever is going on will be okay.

  “Thanks.”

  “Levi, what’s going on? Why didn’t you reply to my calls or texts?”

  “I’m sorry about that,” he says, rubbing his eyes again as if he’s trying to scrub something away. “I should have replied. It’s just been a rough day.”

  “I see that.” My voice is soft as I watch him. “Did someone die?”

  He grins humorlessly and looks over at me. “Yeah. Two someones, actually. Well, three if you count the baby.”

  “What in the world? I didn’t think you worked homicide?”

  “And I won’t be.” He takes a sip of his scotch. “Not after today. I’m not going to fill your head with what I saw today, sweetheart. And I’m not great company right now, so I just came home to brood and get a little drunk.”

  “I guess being with a cop means there will be tough days like this.”

  His eyes meet mine again in surprise. “There are some rough days, yes.”

  “So, in the future, if there are bad moments, can I expect you to just disappear? I shouldn’t worry? I’m not trying to flip you shit for this, Levi. I’m honestly not, I just want to be ready if it happens again.”

  “Come here.”

  Finally. I comply, and he pulls me into his lap and buries his face in my neck, holding on tightly.

  “You can always talk to me,” I remind him as I push my fingers through his hair, soothing us both. “Always. I might not understand, but that doesn’t mean I can’t listen.”

  “Today was too horrible,” he mumbles against my skin. “Too gruesome to talk about. And I can’t really talk about it. But you’re right, I should have gone to you rather than try to protect you from it because having you here for less than ten minutes has already calmed me.”

  I smile and kiss his temple. “I’m glad. Are you tired?”

  “Bone-tired.”

  “Does this thing recline?”

  He reaches to the side, and suddenly, we’re rocked back. I stretch out, half on him and half off, my head on his chest. We don’t say anything at all, we just listen to the stillness of the night around us in the apartment. Before long, Levi is snoring softly.

  With my ear pressed to his chest, listening to the soothing, rhythmic beat of his heart, I follow him into a deep slumber.

  “For Christ’s sake, Jax, you’re going to break my freaking tailbone.”

  I rub the spot with indignation, pissed as all get out that Jax just threw me on my ass.

  “Stick the landing, and you won’t have a sore ass,” he retorts. “You’ve done that move a million times.”

  “Yeah, when I was in shape for the tour, not when I’ve been off the road for a month.” I stand and walk to the edge of the studio to retrieve my water bottle. “Why are you so damn intense today?”

  “I’m just doing my job.”

  “No.” I cock my
head to the side, watching him. “You don’t usually toss me around like that unless you’re pissed. What are you pissed about?”

  He turns his back on me and yanks his white towel off the bar to wipe his face.

  “Logan irritates the fuck out of me sometimes.”

  “Lover’s spat.” I nod and take another drink. “That’ll do it. For the betterment of my ass, could you tone it down just a smidge? I’m going to be bruised.”

  “He can be so damn inconsiderate.”

  I suppose we’d better hammer this out so I don’t leave here with a broken wrist. “What did he do? You guys don’t usually fight.”

  “His mother,” Jax says with a sigh, making me grin. “It’s not funny. That woman is the worst.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She wants us to come to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “How horrifying of her.” I smile as he glares at me.

  “We already had plans, Star. Tickets to see a show we’ve wanted to see for a long time, and they weren’t cheap. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.”

  “Gotcha. Okay, so Logan just tells her it’ll have to be another night.”

  “One would think. But, no. No, he pretty much does whatever his mom wants him to do. So, instead of seeing the show, we’re going to have dinner with that woman.”

  “Why can’t he just tell her you have other plans?”

  “Because she has cancer,” Jax says and holds up a hand. “Now before you call me insensitive, hear me out. She has stage 0 breast cancer. The tiny lump has been removed, and the doctors don’t even suggest she have a mastectomy or any other treatment. It’s just gone. But she calls the goddamn c-card as often as she can, and he falls for it.”

  “Yikes.” I scrunch up my face in sympathy. “Yeah, it does sound like she’s using it as a way to manipulate Logan.”

  “Yes!” Jax points to me. “Exactly! But when I said that, you’d have thought I told him to just put her to sleep to put her out of her misery. He was livid.”

  “Maybe the cancer scared him, even if it was minor.” I shrug. “I don’t know, I’m not good at family stuff. When did it happen?”

  “Two weeks ago.”