“Sure thing.” He leaned his chin toward the radio microphone on his shoulder to call it in.
“She was the kindest soul that ever walked this earth,” a man said as tears streamed down his face.
I hated this part of the job, to look into the family’s faces and try to reassure them we could find a killer in a world that had a population of nearly eight billion people.
“We will do whatever we can, sir.” I didn’t even believe my own words, but technology made it harder to hide these days. Everyone recorded everything, and you never knew what would trip him up.
“Bag up as much as you can.” I pointed to CSI. “I want everything at my door by nine a.m.”
“Yes, sir.”
I watched as everyone did their job, but when the rain started to pelt harder, I rushed back to my truck. There was nothing more I could do at this point. Besides, a Detective Green had shown up to relieve me.
The streets started to flood, which made everyone drive slower. I noticed the temperature had dropped ten degrees since this morning. Winter might be moving in faster than we expected. I groaned at the thought. Crime scenes in the winter weren’t fun.
My screen lit up in front of me.
Sarge: Did you speak with Spencer yet?
I waited for a red light and quickly responded.
Blake: Got caught with the crime scene. I will swing by her place on my way home.
Sarge: Thoughts on the case?
Blake: That makes two, same MO. I have a gut feeling…Serial killer?
Sarge: Damn! Okay, I’ll touch base with you later.
I struggled to take the case to the media and ask the public for help. Sometimes, that could work in our favor, but other times the media could make a shit storm and turned it into a drama, and families could be dragged through the mud. After all, it was only two victims, and I could be wrong about this.
I turned down her street and into the driveway. The windows that faced the road were tinted, which made it hard to see if she was there. Since I found out she doesn’t have a car, it made it much harder.
I hopped out, hunched my shoulders against the rain, and trotted up the steps to the protection of the porch. I knocked loudly on her rounded wooden door with its big, rustic hinges. It looked like a prop from the Hobbit movies.
The door opened slowly, and there was Spencer in a purple silk teddy that could be seen through the opening of the blanket that wrapped around her slim frame. Her hair looked glossy against the dull red coloring of the fabric.
“You left,” was all that came out.
“You sounded like you needed privacy.” She glanced over her shoulder, which made me wonder if she was alone. My stomach twisted at the possibility that I interrupted something.
“You didn’t go to the station.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Many reasons, but one of them was because I didn’t want you to get into trouble.” She leaned her head against the door, and I observed her nightgown that had tightened against her.
“There was another murder, down by the east side of the lake.”
“Really?” Her tone changed. “Same MO?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you said you were kidding. Do you think it really could be the same killer?” The corners of her lips lifted. “I’m impressed.”
She jumped when thunder cracked above us.
“You timed that well.” She tried to laugh off her nerves. “Want to come in?”
So, she was alone. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my arms on the doorframe to stop myself.
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“Spencer?” Someone in a dark jacket held a hand above their eyes to see us better in the rain.
Spencer tugged the blanket to cover more of her body. “Hi, Foster.”
“You should send your friend home now. You’ll lose all your heat from the fireplace.”
Who was this guy?
She cleared her throat like she tried to find her voice. “We’re good.”
As soon as her nosy neighbor caught sight of my police vest, he started to make his way over.
“Dammit,” she muttered.
“Friend of yours?” I asked.
“That is Foster.”
“Everything okay here?” Foster pulled down his hood to get a better look at us. He was a fifty-some-year-old man who stared too long at Spencer’s legs.
I cleared my throat as I felt myself getting frustrated. “Like the lady said, we’re good.”
“Yes, Foster.” Spencer reached for my hand and tugged me inside. “My friend was just coming in for the night.”
“I see.” He watched as I stood close behind her.
“Goodnight.” I shut the door on his peeping eyes.
Chapter Eleven
Spencer
“Thank you.” I covered my face to hide my embarrassment. “He was a friend of my parents’ when they first started to build this place, but by the time they were finished, they were trying to distance themselves from him. He was always creepy enough that you knew something was missing upstairs.”
I pulled back the blinds and saw he was at the end of the driveway, walking away.
Lloyd started to bat at Blake’s leg. He glanced down at the fat cat, who demanded to know what he was doing here.
“Sorry, he’s a bit territorial.”
He tried to use his shoe to push him away, but Lloyd wasn’t having it.
“I just moved in a bit ago,” I continued while he battled with my jerky cat, which was slightly entertaining. “I seem to be the talk of the town again.” I took a sip of my wine that I had left on the counter.
“Again?”
My eyes instinctively dropped to my hands. “Long story.”
“I’d like to hear it someday.”
“Someday, maybe.” I noticed Blake was taking in the place now that Lloyd found the shoelace on my tennis shoe. “Please don’t let me stop you from getting home and changing out of your wet clothes.”
“I have a change in the car,” he answered and moved over to the coffee table to finger my notebook.
I made quick work of crossing the hardwood floor to move it when he plucked it from my reach.
“You write for the newspaper.” He grinned. “Anything in here I should already know, correct?”
I bit my lip to hide my discomfort with someone reading my notes. They were my interpretation of what I saw and felt, and it was almost like a diary.
I jumped for the book, and his gaze shot down to my breasts and snapped back to my eyes in half a second. I tried to ignore how he smelled and how damn fine he was in his police vest.
I faked a move and tried to roll him to the side, but instead he fell back onto the couch, bringing me along with him.
I had to straddle him or fall, but he caught my arms before I smashed into his chest.
“Oh, my God,” I huffed with laugher, “that was not how that was supposed to go.”
“Is this part of your self-defense training you keep harping about?” He grinned, which gained me the perfect moment to knock the notebook out of his hand, and it tumbled to the floor. Both of his hands flew to my wrists so I couldn’t grab it. Suddenly, I was very aware I was straddling Detective Blake Daniels’s lap in my teddy with only a scrap of lace and jeans between us.