“I wish I had your breasts.”
With that, I’m quickly snapped back to the present and my conversation with Jessie. “I think they’re too big, personally.”
She snorts in disgust, then turns her chair back to her desk. “You’re coming out tonight, aren’t you?”
I turn and look at Jessie’s back. When I don’t answer straight away, she swings her head around and looks at me expectantly. “Yes, Jessie. Even Jake is coming.”
Her chair is soon moved back around as Jessie faces me again. “Mr. Boss-Man, huh? That means we will have to behave ourselves,” Jessie says, pouting a little.
“He said he wants to keep an eye on Tony. He thinks that if he has a few too many, he may make unwanted advances towards me.”
Her posture picks up. “Yet another man who wants you. And he’s shacked up with your mother of all people.”
I gasp at her comment. “Don’t be so silly. Besides, he just made a comment about his fatherly instincts this morning. I nearly puked.”
She stares at me for a second and frowns. What on earth is she thinking now?
Then, suddenly, her eyebrows rise. “Have you thought about it?”
Confused, I reply, “Thought about what?”
She has that impish grin back on her face. “You must have. I think every female in this station has had at least one thought about riding the Jake Bennett train at some point. He’s super fit, gorgeous, rich, and has plenty of power. Who wouldn’t?”
I cringe, wondering if she can read my mind. “You can’t be serious? He’s my mum’s fiancé!” I answer, sounding shocked. And I am in shock. I’m horrified at myself every time I think about his hands on me instead of her.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t think about it. Personally, if I were you, I would be driving myself crazy, sleeping in a room next to Mr. God himself. Oh, the fantasies!”
I’m mortified, but mostly because I wonder if she really can read my mind. “I’m going to get on with my work and pretend you never uttered those words.”
She looks up at me, and her eyes narrow before she swings her chair back round to her desk. “Miss Priss.”
I know Jessie is joking, but I feel a knot in my stomach at her comment. I haven’t been with a man for a very long time because I can’t get Jake out of my head. I have tried to go on dates and forget about him, but it’s just been impossible.
Six months ago, when I heard that Jake had asked Mum to marry him, I went out on a bender and ended up with a raging hangover the next morning. I also woke up next to a man I had never met before. I was mortified and have been celibate ever since. I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl, and I never have been. I just want to forget that night ever happened.
It turned out that the man I slept with, John, was a very nice guy. He is a police officer in Leesburg and a pretty handsome one at that. He wanted to see me again, saying that he had admired me from afar for a while before we actually got together. He also said he couldn’t believe his luck when I agreed to go home with him. I told him I was sorry, but I couldn’t go out with him again. I fed him the usual bullshit about how I was getting over someone, and I wasn’t ready for a relationship. He didn’t seem happy with that, but we remained friends. Things were a little bit strange afterwards, but he still calls me now and then, asking me if I’m ready yet. Trouble is, I don’t know if I will ever be ready. Jake’s like my drug, and I keep hanging around him like an anxious addict, waiting to see if I can get my fix. I know full well I can never have it, but I still can’t help myself.
With a shake of my head, I pull myself from my thoughts and look at the case files on my desk. There’s a serial killer on the loose who’s killing women around my age with blonde hair and blue eyes. They’re always strangled, but never interfered with sexually. It has been going on for six months, and we are still no closer to catching him. He’s killed seven girls that we know of so far, and yet the scene is always spotlessly clean. It has made my job—everyone’s jobs—that much harder.
“This asshole needs to be caught already. He did it again last night, and not only that, he lifted up her skirt, exposing her.”
My head snaps up to look at the lead detectives in the case, Michael and Tom. Their eyes quickly lock on mine, but they both seem uncomfortable when they see me.
“He altered his pattern this time. Did he rape her?” I ask.
Michael pulls at his collar like it is ninety degrees outside. It’s a beautiful day in May, but it certainly isn’t that hot yet. Plus, the air conditioning is on, so it’s quite cool inside.
“No, but you’re right. It is different this time. So, with this particular murder, we need to pay close attention to the why of it.” Tom elbows him. and I frown. What’s wrong with those two?
“Where did it happen, Michael?” He looks pained, and it starts getting me a little annoyed.
“Reston—”
His mouth shuts immediately at the sound of Jake’s voice booming across the room. “Michael, in my office. Now, please.”
I glance across at Jake, and he’s staring at me—eyes wide and intense. Is he mad at me?
“Coming, sir.”
Michael walks off with his tail between his legs, and Tom looks at me like he’s about to say something.
“Tom, back to work!” Jake shouts.
I flit my head around to find I have several sets of eyes staring at me. What on earth is wrong with everyone today?
“Someone must have their period.” I look across at Jessie, and she rolls her eyes at me. “He obviously didn’t get any from your mother last night.”
I cringe at her words. “Shut up!” I throw a paper clip at her. “I don’t want to hear about my mum getting it on with anyone.”
Least of all Jake.
I get back to work and go through a lot of mind-numbing data. I don’t want to think about Jake anymore, so I push on. I start searching through burglary arrests going back six months. By the time I get to around two years, I decide I need to stop and get something to eat.
Nipping out, I grab myself a salad for lunch and get back to work on one of my other disturbing cases. It involves two men in ski masks picking on the elderly. They tie their victims up while they search through everything, looking for anything that they think they can sell. Thankfully, they haven’t harmed them in any physical way so far, but the emotional trauma is bad enough. It’s obvious that the two thieves are targeting the elderly because they believe they’ll both possess more valuables and make easier prey than younger victims might.
I look at their targets from scratch. I examine the areas, dates, and times, trying to determine if there’s a pattern. I also use what I learn to extrapolate a list of potential locations for future attacks. I’m so engrossed in my work that before I know it, it’s after five.
“Are you ready, missy? We have ourselves some drinking to do, which will hopefully lead to you finally spending some quality time … what is it you Brits like to call it … shagging?”
I’m stunned by her inappropriate and all-too-blunt words, but I also can’t help laughing. It’s the way she pronounces shagging. It has me in stitches.