“What threat?” Her voice goes high. “He’s back in Baltimore. He wouldn’t dare touch me. Sloan’s pretty sick, but he’s not stupid enough to cross you.”
“I wish I could agree, but I’ve seen too many cases like this. I know how they go.”
She tries to leave the bed, but I catch her and bring her back. “You have to trust me on this, Mel.”
“You mean I have to live in fear all the time, looking over my shoulder? I won’t do it. I can’t.”
“I’m not asking you to live in fear.”
“And I won’t have you jeopardizing our future by doing something potentially illegal just to… what? Get revenge?”
My lips tighten at her words. I know she’s saying these things because she wants to convince me, but she’s only partially informed. Reaching up, I rest my palm on the side of her face and run my thumb lightly over her scar.
“Every time I see this, I want to kill him. I know exactly how I’ll do it, too.”
She reaches up to take my hand and fold it in both of hers. “My scar reminds me of how strong I am. What I can survive.”
A familiar anger tightens in my chest that she would even need a physical reminder of such a thing.
“I wish I’d never shown you that picture.” Her voice is quiet as she traces her fingertip over the back of my hand. “It was unfair, and now you can never un-see it.”
“Jessica Black is dead.”
Her body goes still. For a moment I’m not sure if she’s breathing.
“Mel?”
Now when her eyes travel up to mine, they’re worried. “How…”
“I don’t know, but I have a hunch.”
Blinking quickly, her head moves side to side as she’s processing what I’m not saying. “He didn’t… he wouldn’t…” She squeezes her blue eyes closed, and I’m worried she’ll cry. She doesn’t. Instead when she opens her eyes this time acceptance is in her voice. “But why?”
“Have you ever seen a picture of her?”
“I never saw pictures of any of them.”
“I’d be willing to bet they all have a similar look, and it’s long, dark waves, petite with fair skin.”
She’s off the bed now, scooping up my shirt and wrapping it around her body. Her arms are crossed over her midsection, and she’s pacing the room still shaking her head. “No. He’s an abusive, controlling son of a bitch, but he’s not a murderer.”
Picking up my jeans, I quickly step in and pull them up my hips before crossing the room to pull her into my arms. “You say that, but you didn’t believe he’d hurt you either.”
I feel the tremors moving through her, and I hug her tighter against my chest. “Shh… I’m here now, and I’m not leaving until he’s no longer a threat to you. Or the baby.”
Another shiver moves through her, but she’s fighting it. “Do you have some reason to believe he’s responsible? The girl was a hooker. She lived a dangerous life. She could’ve been killed for any number of reasons.”
“She was living in Baltimore. She’d moved there a year ago, and it appears she was one of Sloan’s regulars. It’s probably why he got careless, and you found out.”
“That’s a big leap with no evidence.”
“Police records have a mug shot of her beaten. It’s what caught my attention in the first place. The image looks… very similar to what you showed me.”
“Oh, god.” She covers her face with her hands.
Guiding her back to the bed, we sit on the foot. I pull her onto my lap and wrap my arms around her, preparing to hold her for as long as she needs. Not surprisingly, it isn’t very long.
She pushes back and seems to shake herself. Standing again, I see her find that strength I know is inside her. It’s amazing to watch.