Cut and Run (Criminal Profiler 2)

“He’s cleaning house?” Brogan asked.

“Crow, Macy, Heather, and Garnet all had some connection to those girls in the basement.”

“Dirk also might be considered connected to this,” Brogan said.

So was Faith.

The pounding on Dirk’s trailer door woke him from a sound sleep. He lurched to his feet, causing empty beer cans to rattle from his lap to the floor. He staggered forward and looked out the window to find a man in a dark suit, his eyes hooded with sunglasses. Fuck. The cops.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he blinked and sniffed in a lungful of what passed for fresh air in his trailer. He opened the door. “Yeah.”

The man looked up at him, and even with dark glasses, his gaze felt cold and heavy. “Dirk Crow?”

“That’s right.”

“I need to ask you a few questions.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Thursday, June 28, 9:00 p.m.

Faith poured a glass of wine and sipped it slowly, closing her eyes as she tried to forget the day. She carried the glass into the living room and sat in her favorite chair. She sipped again as she kicked off her shoes, leaving them where they fell.

The doorbell rang and she moved leisurely to the door, peering through the peephole. Mitchell Hayden towered on her front porch.

She opened the door. “Hayden.”

He removed his hat. “Mind if I come in?”

She was glad to see him. “Sure.” And when he stepped inside, she said, “Can I get you a wine or beer?”

“Beer, if you have it.”

“Coming right up.” She closed the door behind him. “Follow me.”

She sensed his curiosity as he moved through her house, staring at her odd blend of artwork. He paused to study the oil painting featuring exquisitely detailed flowers in a vase done by a Russian artist in Washington, DC.

“Nice place. Some art collection.”

She opened the refrigerator, selected a craft beer, twisted off the top, and handed it to him. “My grandmother started it,” she said. “She and my mother introduced me to art when I was a child. A lot of what you see is their collection. I’ve only had the money in the last few years to begin collecting for myself.”

He took a sip, his gaze on her. “I wouldn’t know good art if it broadsided me.”

“It’s not complicated. If you like it and it makes you feel good, then that’s all that matters.”

“What pieces did you buy?”

“With my very own money?” She sipped her wine and moved to an acrylic seascape with a young woman and her two small blond children. The three all looked toward the ocean, their faces either turned away or covered with the brim of a hat. “When I think about it now, it’s kind of prophetic. A faceless mother with two blond children.”

His frown deepened as he looked at her. “How are you doing?”

“Me? I’m a champ.”

“Seriously?”

This conversation felt more intimate in some ways than the sex they’d had. “Confused. Angry. Hurt. More confused. Where the hell did I come from?” She shook her head. “I always wondered why my parents weren’t more honest about my adoption. Now I know.”

“I can only assume they thought they were protecting you.”

“Or themselves.”

She didn’t want to talk about herself or her issues any longer. “How is the excavation going?”

“They unearthed the last two bodies this afternoon. They’re also female. We’ll be viewing all the remains tomorrow. Now it’s a matter of confirming they’re who we think they are.” He took a pull on the beer. She set down her wine glass, took his beer, and set it on the counter as well. “Garnet and his coworker were found murdered tonight.”

“What?” Her first reaction was frustration. She feared now that it might never get sorted out.

“Neither one of them died easy. We still don’t know who or why, but the forensic team is going over their murder scenes now. There were supplies for a newborn at both crime scenes.”

She wasn’t sorry for either one of them. That wasn’t a very Christian thought, but she still couldn’t begin to imagine the pain and suffering those two monsters had caused.

There was so much death and loss. And in this moment she was tired of trying to process it all. “Do you have to be anywhere in the next hour?”

“Nope.”

She smiled. “Can I take your jacket?”

“Sure.” He shrugged it off and handed it to her. She laid it on the chair. She’d never brought him back to her home. Up until now it had been hotel rooms, and they’d kept whatever it was between them at arm’s distance.

She reached for his tie and loosened the knot. “You look tense.”

He ran his hand up and down her arm. “Do I?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. She was tall for a woman but still had to stretch to reach his lips. He banded an arm around her waist and pulled her firmly against him. The malaise that had dogged her when she’d pushed through her front door faded away and was replaced by a delicious excitement that made her forget everything but this moment.

His full erection pressed against her, kicking up her heartbeat several clicks. Her fingers skimmed down his shirt over his flat belly, and she reached for his belt buckle. His breathing deepened as her long fingers unfastened the top button on his pants and slowly pulled down his zipper. She slid her hand down and wrapped it around him.

He sucked in a breath, kissing her again and cupping her backside with his hand. He squeezed, kneaded, and pressed himself against her.

“It’s going to be right here and right now if we don’t find a bed quick.”

She considered the carpet on her living room floor but saved that idea for another time. She released him. “Down the hallway.”

Faith started down the hallway, not looking back, knowing he would follow. As she moved, she reached for the hem of her sweater and pulled it off,

the same as she had done, alone, countless times before. She let the sweater fall to the floor and reached for the hook in her bra. She paused at her bedroom door, unlatched her bra, and slid it off. It dropped to the floor.

When she looked up, he had paused to watch. “Still interested?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She moved into her bedroom, sliding off her jeans and tossing them aside. She loosened the clip in her hair and let it fall loosely around her shoulders.

The light from the hallway dimmed, and she knew he was watching her. Good. Just the idea of him watching her tip her head back and cup her breast lightly made her hot.

She heard his clothes hit the floor. She didn’t turn, didn’t coax him, but waited for him to come up behind her and pull her close.

She didn’t have long to wait. Barely seconds passed before she heard the steady beat of his bare feet cross the hard wood. Strong hands rested on her shoulders. Next, he kissed her on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, giving herself over to the sensations.

This was how it had been for them. She always faced away from him as he entered her from behind, never saying a word. She liked the impersonal nature of their sex. No emotion. Just physical sensation.

This time he turned her around. She considered making a joke about the conventional nature of the move, but when she caught him staring at her breasts, she forgot what she was thinking.

He kissed her nipple, sucking it until all she could do was tip her head back and give in to the firing nerve endings that threatened to short-circuit her brain.

He kissed her lips and cupped her bottom again, but this time when he took her hand, he guided her toward the bed. “Move to the center,” he said.

She could have argued, but she didn’t want any words to get between them. So she sat on the edge of the bed and very slowly scooted her bottom to the middle of the mattress. He watched, clearly savoring the sight of her slim legs and narrow waist.

“Put the pillow behind your back and lay back,” he said.