Sloane Monroe Series Boxed Set (Books 1-3)

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “It’s not a good idea to try and pet him until he knows you,” I said.

  Giovanni nodded.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “Pick you up at seven tomorrow night?”

  “See you then.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Months with warm weather were my favorite, and summer in Park City was no exception. Skiers had packed up and gone home to await the next season, and the town was replaced with cyclists, golfers, and those who enjoyed the warm weather and the great outdoors, and that group included me. On Wednesdays, the Farmer’s Market lured both residents and seasonal visitors with its wide array of locally grown fruits and vegetables and other novelties. And then there was the annual food and wine festival in July which lasted four days and celebrated at the end with a night of jazz, food from some of the best local restaurants in town, and wine tasting. But one of my favorite events was the summer concert series held at one of the local ski resorts, and tonight I would take my spot on the lawn alongside Giovanni and partake of the cool summer breeze Park City’s air had to offer.

  I selected a summery black tank dress for the evening and low peep-toe heels. Giovanni arrived on time and had forgone the suit, and for the first time since we met, he was dressed in designer jeans and a fitted polo shirt. I always had the impression he was on the slender side: but the shirt showed off something I hadn’t expected, a toned physique that hadn’t been shaped overnight. It was a different side of him, and I expected it was one of many.

  “You look beautiful,” he said when we arrived at the car.

  I reached for the handle.

  “Let me get that for you,” he said.

  I smiled and waited like a high school girl on her first date for him to advance around the side of the car and open my door. There was no way I could ever get used to him holding the car door open for me, it was just too weird.

  ***

  The grassy area surrounding the outdoor amphitheater was littered with blankets and picnic baskets packed with a wide array of different items from tea sandwiches to bottles of wine. Everyone seemed content just to be there to take in such a perfect night.

  “I should have brought a blanket,” I said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I walked out the door and forgot all about it.”

  Giovanni turned and smiled at me with his usual laid back attitude and then extended his right hand out with his palm up.

  “Here we are,” he said.

  On the grass in front of us was an entire set up—a blanket had been spread out, and in the middle of it was an open basket full of food and wine. He’d thought of everything.

  “I see you went ahead,” I said.

  “I had someone take care of this earlier,” he said. “Does this work for you?”

  We were in the exact center of the lawn about a quarter up from the stage with a perfect view of the amphitheater.

  I nodded.

  Right before the first act came out, Giovanni reached into the basket next to him and pulled out two glasses.

  “Red or white wine?” he said. “I wasn’t sure, so I brought both.”

  “Red.”

  He nodded and poured.

  “I’d like to know more about you,” he said.

  “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

  “Ladies first.”

  “Alright then,” I said. “Ask away.”

  “Have you always lived here?”

  “Not always. I grew up in a small town in California.”

  “Why move?”

  “My grandfather lived here. When I was a kid, I spent my summers in Park City with my sister.”

  “Gabrielle?”

  I nodded.

  “She was my only sibling,” I said. “It was always just the two of us. After I graduated, I came out for a visit and decided to stay, and I’ve been here ever since. Gabby stayed in California for a while and then joined me here about five years ago.”

  “Ever marry?”

  “Once,” I said.

  “Hmm.”

  “We were young,” I said. “Too young. And so different from each other. At the time I thought he was everything I could ask for in a person, but when I look back now, I realize I couldn’t have known what I wanted at the time. He saw things one way, and I saw things in another, and the two didn’t coincide. But even then, it was hard for me to walk away.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “When I commit to something or someone,” I said, “I’m all in, and it’s hard for me to back down, even when I know it’s the right thing to do.”

  “But you did.”

  I took a sip of wine, but what I really wanted was to grab the bottle and polish it off in one long swallow. It wasn’t easy for me to open up, and I was miles away from my comfort zone, but if I expected him to reciprocate, I knew I had to offer something.

  “He started drinking,” I said. “At first it was just a few beers here and there, but the months forged on and January turned into June, until one day he was a full-blown alcoholic.”

  “Do you know what caused him to get that way?”

  “Some days I thought it was me,” I said.

  Giovanni’s hand grazed my knee.

  “I doubt that.”

  “He wanted kids. I think he thought kids would solve our problems, and maybe if I got pregnant, I wouldn’t leave.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “I’ve always wanted children; it’s just that I haven’t been able to…”

  What was I doing? I’d divulged more to Giovanni in a couple hours than I had with Nick in three years together.

  “How did it end?”

  “At the time I wanted to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps and join the FBI, and I was taking steps to begin that process, and he didn’t approve. He actually told me he wouldn’t stand for it, like my life was at his discretion. It was too much. I left, and I never went back.”

  “And now?”

  “I live life on my terms.”

  He grinned and shook his head.

  “I meant to say, how is your relationship with Detective Calhoun?”

  Somehow I knew he would come up.

  “Hard to explain,” I said.

  “But you do have one?”

  “Had,” I said. “I ended it about a week ago.”

  It was all I wanted to say on the subject. Giovanni was quiet for several moments before he spoke again.

  “I never thought Detective Calhoun was the right man for you.”

  How could he possibly know whether he was or wasn’t?

  “Ah, I can tell from the look on your face I’ve offended you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I said. “It’s just that you hardly know me. Nick isn’t such a bad guy. I’m just at a point in my life where I…”

  What was it with me tonight? In one evening I’d turned into Chatty Cathy.

  “When I look at you I see an independent woman, one who doesn’t take no for an answer. Someone who never backs down from a challenge. You’re as passionate about the cases you take on as the clients you work for. You like being in a relationship, but you don’t need it to survive. Would you like me to go on?”

  I wanted to say something, but what, I didn’t know. He continued.

  “I believe what happened to your sister affected you in a profound way, and that you’ve never gotten past it, even though you’ve tried. Somehow you’ve persuaded yourself to believe that once you catch the killer things will change, but deep down you know it will never bring you the peace of mind you long for. There will always be a void in your life, a hole incapable of closing up. I too have lost the people I love—those closest to me. You learn to live with it, move on, and you do because you have to. But the pain doesn’t ever go away, not all of it.”

  There was a time when I thought Nick knew me so well, but no one had ever come close to what I’d experienced with Giovanni in such a short amount of time. I looked around and noticed ever
yone started to clap and had stood up and gathered their blankets, and I realized the concert was already over. I stood with Giovanni and then bent down and grabbed a corner of the blanket.

  He placed his hand on my wrist. “Leave it,” he said. “Someone else will take care of it.”

  The drive home was spent in an uncomfortable silence, for me anyway. Giovanni seemed content and had a permanent smile on his face for the entire ride. I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of my overshare, and I was surprised I’d reminisced over a past I tried hard to forget. Once again I came away with little more information about Giovanni than I already knew about him. It was a disappointment.

  We reached my house, and Giovanni shut the car off and reclined back in his seat and gazed at me, which gave me the impression he wanted to continue our little chat. I didn’t.

  “I need to say something,” I said.

  “Go on.”

  “I know it’s a sign of respect to open the door for a woman, but it’s too much. Please don’t take it the wrong way, but I can manage my own door from now on.” And with that, I opened the car door and got out and closed it behind me.

  Now what?

  Giovanni exited his side of the car, and when I turned to see how he’d taken what I just said, his hand was over his mouth and all I could see was his backside.

  “Are you laughing at me?” I said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s so funny?” I said.

  “You are.”

  “In what way?”

  “You are so different.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I said.

  “I’ve never met another woman quite like you.”

  We walked up the path that led to my front porch, and when I glanced in his direction, he still had a look of amusement on his face. I reached for the door and turned.

  “What is it that you want from me?” I said.

  He cupped his hand beneath my chin and leaned in and stared into my eyes for a moment and then gave me a kiss, but not on the lips—on the cheek of all places, which made me feel like I’d just bid a fond farewell to my brother, if I had one.

  “See you tomorrow,” he said.

  CHAPTER 30

  “He kissed you?”

  I nodded.

  “If you can call it a kiss.”

  I felt like a teenager who couldn’t wait to give the scoop to her girlfriend.

  “And what did you do?” Maddie said.

  “I’m not sure, it all happened kinda fast.”

  Maddie and I had just finished jujitsu class and were on our way to her lab. Her eyes were lit up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July.

  “Well, did you kiss him back or what?” she said.

  “On his cheek? Wouldn’t that seem a bit strange?”

  She popped a bubble with the green apple-flavored gum she swished around inside her mouth.

  “Girl, you should have slid your face over a few inches and gone in for the real deal. You know he wouldn’t have said no.”

  “I imagine one day our lips will make a connection and when they do it will be first-prize-at-the-fair good.”

  She smacked me on the shoulder, tossed her head back and laughed.

  “Good for you,” she said. “I can tell you’re looking forward to it.”

  “You don’t think it’s a big deal?”

  She shrugged. “Why would it be?”

  “I just got out of a relationship a week ago, Maddie. Shouldn’t I feel bad or something?”

  “Why, because you think it’s too soon?” she said.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “If he did kiss you, or tried something more—would you regret it?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well then, there’s your answer,” she said.

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I need to meet this guy though. Then I can tell you how I really feel.”

  We arrived at the lab and went in. Maddie walked over to her desk and opened a file.

  “Okay, this is what I wanted to show you,” she said.

  “What am I looking at?”

  “Hair follicles.”

  “These were found in the suspect’s car, right?”

  She nodded.

  “They’re an exact match to the last two victims,” she said.

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “It proves they were both in his car.”

  “So we have our killer?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I took a close look at the hair found in the car, I noticed something unusual,” she said. “It’s just a minor thing—but it’s been on my mind. Usually when hair is found like that, it’s a secondary transfer.”

  “Meaning?”

  “A piece has fallen out on its own and attached itself to whatever is there—the seat, fibers in the carpet, a floor mat, etc. If the hair falls out naturally, the root has a club shape which is easy for me to see. If the killer yanked it out on the other hand, the root is stretched and sometimes broken. Neither applies to the strands of hair I tested.”

  “Are you suggesting they might have been planted?” I said.

  “All I know is, both strands of hair had been cut like scissors were used to remove the individual pieces.”

  “He never did that with any of his victims. Why would he start now, and why leave just a few strands of cut hair in the car? That’s sloppy—careless, and it’s not like him at all.”

  CHAPTER 31

  I left the lab and placed a call to Giovanni.

  “I need a favor,” I said.

  “Name it.”

  “I want the address of the guy they have in custody for the Sinnerman murders.”

  “You heard the news then?”

  “I just left Maddie’s lab,” I said.

  “Can you hold on a minute?”

  After holding a short time, Giovanni returned to the line.

  “525 Spruce Street,” he said. “In some condos. Number nine. Should I ask why you want it?”

  “Better if you didn’t.”

  I thanked him and ended the call. By now I was sure everyone at the station had broken out the champagne to celebrate the capture of Sinnerman. But even with the evidence stacked a mile high against him, I had to be sure.

  ***

  The door at 525 Spruce Street #9 was unlocked, which was convenient, and at present no one was there. I expected forensics had already come and gone along with Park City’s finest. I knocked just in case he had roommates or a wife, but no one answered, so I went in. The living room was cluttered with all kinds of newspapers, magazines, and wadded-up computer paper that rested on the cheap blue plush carpet.

  In the corner of the room was a fish tank. From the looks of it, the tank hadn’t been cleaned in a while. A guppie floated upside down at the top. The walls in the room were adorned with posters from what I presumed were his favorite bands: The Grateful Dead, The Doors, and The Rolling Stones. The sink in the kitchen was full of dishes with hardened food stuck to them, and when I opened the fridge, it was barren except for a couple beers and a few to go boxes.

  I felt a strange sensation in my leg and jerked back. A fluffy grey cat the width of three cats leapt onto the counter and eyed me curiously. I reached over and lifted her off the counter and stroked her thick fur. “What’s your name then?” I said. She nuzzled up against me and purred, and then I released her back on the floor. She turned and walked down the hall toward a bedroom. I followed. It was the only other room in the house besides a Cracker Jack-sized bathroom. The queen-sized bed was hoisted up on a set of cinder blocks, but there was no comforter of any kind, only grey sheets and a single black blanket. A stack of comic books offered the only sign of organization in the entire house.

  Overall the place was trashed. The guy lived like a hermit with almost no possessions to speak of which made me wonder: if he liked to take Polaroid pictures of the women, where was the camera? And what
about the little mementos he kept; as grizzly as they were, there was no sign anyone had ever been brought here. Could he have taken the women somewhere else? I didn’t know how that was possible; it seemed he couldn’t even afford his current residence. And what if it wasn’t him—why did he have photos of the women in his car, and how did the hair get there?

  CHAPTER 32

  Giovanni stood in the corner of the room in my office. With his pointer finger and thumb he stroked his chin a few times and eyed the shrine to Sinnerman on my wall.

  “Quite the collection you have here. You’ve been at it awhile.”

  “I created it a few weeks after my sister died,” I said.

  “I can imagine how much this means to you, and I’m grateful you felt comfortable enough to share it with me.”

  I rose from the chair at my desk and walked over and stood next to him.

  “I wanted you to see this because what I am about to tell you—well, let’s just say I have my doubts anyone will believe me, but I thought if I had you in my corner…”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m not sure the right man is in custody,” I said.

  “Even after the evidence they found?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve been to his house, and something doesn’t add up,” I said. “It was a wreck, and from the profile I created and what we know of him, I believe he’s organized, almost to a fault. I looked into the eyes of the guy they’ve got locked up, and I’m confident they’re not the eyes of a killer.”

  Giovanni absorbed what I had to say and then looked at me for a moment like he wasn’t sure whether I was finished or not.

  “What else?”

  “He doesn’t make mistakes,” I said. “His crimes are orchestrated in such a perfect way that never once has he left behind any indication of who he is: not a print, not a drop of blood, nada. Until now we’ve had no indication about who this guy is, and yet I’m expected to believe within a twenty-four hour period, a killer who always covers his tracks leaves evidence in his car that his neighbor just happens to find and then attacks a woman in broad daylight who gets the best of him and manages to flee the scene?”