Tease (Tease 1)

“What happens now?” I asked, in shock.

“The police are on their way, which is standard in all fatalities,” he explained. “We’ll wait here with you until they arrive.” His tone was so soft, so apologetic.

Did he even recognize her? Judging by his reaction, I doubted it.

“Are you feeling okay? You look like you might be going into shock.” His brow furrowed in concern. “Stand up for me, and we’ll sit you down on the sofa.”

I nodded, numb. I stood up, catching the towel just before it fell from my waist. He slowly walked me over to the living area, where I slumped down onto the soft cushions, stretching myself out as he placed a blanket over me. I was so cold. I shivered and rubbed my arms, trying to get my blood flowing.

“I’m just going to take your blood pressure, okay?”

Again, I nodded.

“Can you . . . should you cover her up or something?” I asked, freaking out. I gasped, feeling dizzy. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like I was sucking air through a straw.

She was just lying there, she looked so exposed, so vulnerable. I hated seeing her like that. God, what would her husband think? Her kids?

“I’m sorry, until the police get here we can’t contaminate the area.”

I nodded. In case I’d killed her. Is that what they were saying? I glanced down at myself. “Can I get dressed? And call someone?” I asked.

He looked surprised. “Don’t get dressed just yet. I want your blood pressure a little higher before you stand again, but you can call whoever you need to. I’ll get your phone for you.”

He looked at me, pity in his eyes, as he handed me my cell. I took a deep breath, which did fuck-all to calm my nerves, and dialed.

“Hey, Coop, what’s up?”

“Beth, I’m in a bit of shit. I need your help.” I had no idea what to say.

Hey, can you help me out? I’ve just killed a client.

My head was spinning, and my stomach churned, like I was going to throw up at any second. “Can you come to me? I’m at The Stanton, on Seventh.”

“Coop, you’re scaring me. What’s going on? Are you okay?” Her voice rose, the muffled sounds of traffic evident in the background. “I’m on my way. I was going to a meeting right near there, so I shouldn’t be long.”

“Thanks, see you soon. Oh, I’m in the penthouse,” I added, almost forgetting to tell her what room. Shutting off the phone, I looked up and saw that the paramedic who’d been speaking to me was talking to two police officers and a man in a suit, who I guessed was a detective.

I tried to calm the panic that was rising in my chest. Surely they didn’t send out detectives to every fatality? I glanced around for the other paramedic to find he’d disappeared.

The first paramedic nodded in my direction, and the detective turned to me, while the other two officers walked over to Melinda’s body.

I stiffened as he approached. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was a suspect. Maybe I’d watched too many detective shows, but something about the way he was looking at me made me uncomfortable.

I attempted to swallow, my throat suddenly dry and coarse, like sandpaper.

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“What’s your name, son?” He put his hand out.

I tentatively shook it. Son? The guy looked barely thirty. Either he was trying to intimidate me or he thought I looked younger than I was. Or maybe he looked younger than he actually was. Fuck, now I was just thinking shit.

“Liam,” I replied, forcing my voice to sound strong. “Liam Cooper.” He sat down in the armchair next to me. Now I sound like a contestant on The-fucking-Price is Right.

“Okay, Liam, why don’t you run through what happened here? Do you know her?” he asked, flipping open his notepad.

I laughed, earning myself a glare. Did I know her? She was naked in bed, and I was wearing only a towel. What, I just happened to wander into her room in my towel, and find her dead?

“Of course I knew her,” I said, unable to keep the attitude out of my voice.