He dropped his gaze to her leg and smoothed his hand over her thigh and then over the knee that still bore the scar of her surgery. He traced his finger over the light-pink semicircle. “Does it ever bother you?” he asked.
“Not really. Distance running is a thing of the past, and I can predict rainy days before they happen. I’ve gotten used to the minor aches and pains.”
He nodded toward the stack of photos she had pulled off the walls barely two days ago. “I’m assuming he was your husband.”
“Jeff. He was one hell of a cop. And an all-around good guy. He was healthy as a horse and had finished a marathon three days before he died. They tell me he was at the courthouse to get a search warrant when the first headache brought him to his knees. We’d just spoken, and he had said he was on the way to our favorite restaurant.” She set her cup down with deliberate care. “I’d been waiting at the restaurant for thirty minutes when his captain called me.”
“I’m sorry.” He kept his hand on her knee.
She pushed away the images of that restaurant and the days and years that followed. “Life isn’t always a party. I’m guessing you’re not a single parent by choice.”
“Divorce. It was better for everyone, but I know it hurt Nate.”
“How old was he when you and your wife divorced?”
“Five. Motherhood and being a cop’s wife were too much for her.”
“The principal at the school mentioned that she died.”
“Long after the divorce. I was sorry for Nate,” he said. “Despite it all, she was his mother.”
Zoe laid her hand over his. “I’m sorry for him and you. She was the mother of your child.”
“Yeah.”
They sat together for several seconds. “We still have a couple of hours to kill before we have to be at the lab. We could catch a few hours of sleep.”
He held up his empty cup. “I’ll never get back to sleep.”
“Neither will I.”
He slid his hand up under the robe and ran his fingers over her soft curls. She reached for the belt on her robe and undid it. It slid from her shoulders and settled on her chair.
She rose and stood between his legs. He cupped her buttocks and again suckled that nipple. The last time he had tortured her with wanting. Now it was her turn.
She lowered to her knees, and as she ran her tongue over her lips, she unfastened his belt. She cupped his erection and teased it with the underside of her thumb.
“I won’t last long if you keep that up.” His tone was seasoned with a dark humor.
She smiled. “Two can play this game.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Wednesday, August 14, 11:00 p.m.
Arlington, Virginia
Forty Hours after the 911 Call
He should be satisfied. Hadley Foster was lying in cold storage in the medical examiner’s office, covered in knife wounds. That beautiful body she had worked so hard to maintain, the Botox injections, and the acrylic nails had been reduced to a lump of decaying skin and bones. Eventually, she would be dust.
He had dreamed about and planned for this moment for weeks, months, hell, even years. He should feel like he was on top of the world. He had won, and the cops would never nail him for the crime. It did not get any better than that.
But instead of elation, he felt let down, like a kid seconds after the Christmas Day presents were opened. That’s it? No more goodies? Now what dark fantasies would he dream about to get him off each morning?
He sat in his car, staring blindly at the strip of bars in Arlington. They weren’t the fancy clubs of the young, upwardly mobile hotshots hoping to make it big in the nation’s capital or strike it rich with one of the consulting firms. No, these bars served the working man. The guys and gals who built the upscale, modern buildings, cleaned the toilets, or cut the lawns. They were the invisible people. The ones their betters did not want to acknowledge.
He liked moving and hunting among the unseen because they were the easiest to murder. And right now, he needed a kill more than anything.
His phone dinged with a text saying that his “date” for the evening was waiting for him on the corner. He had agreed to pay extra if she came to the motel room of his choosing and not the one she normally worked out of. He wanted home-field advantage. Besides, there was something about fucking on sheets after another guy that disgusted him.
A rap on the window, and he looked to see the woman. He’d ordered a blonde, preferably with blue eyes and a small frame. Big tits were good, but it was hard to get the entire package each time. As long as this one looked a little like Hadley, that would be enough.
The woman waiting for him now was a little too tall for his tastes, and her tits were not spectacular, but she was blond. A good fuck would take the edge off the raw anger clawing at his insides.
He clicked the lock button open, and she slid into the car, tossing him a practiced smile seen by more men than even she could count. As he nodded, he locked the car doors. The click made her flinch, but she kept smiling. A pro.
“Where’re we going?” A heavy dose of cheap perfume filled the car as she snapped on her seat belt.
He was amused she was concerned about highway safety, considering she had gotten into a stranger’s car. “I have a room. It’s a few blocks from here.”
“You’ve paid for three hours. That includes travel time.”
“I get that.” He put the car in drive and slowly pulled away from the curb. He wove through the traffic, careful not to look rushed. He wanted his driving to be as nondescript as his vehicle.
She fussed with the hem of her short skirt, running her hand over the fishnet covering her exposed thigh in a practiced way. With her hand on the door, she relaxed back into her seat. “Feels good to sit down.”
“I thought you girls didn’t walk the streets anymore. I thought it was all phone calls and shit.”
“It is. But it’s been a long night.” She coiled a blond curl around her finger.
The stoplight turned yellow, so he slowed. It turned red, and he reached for the radio and switched on a rock station. Sometimes when he played the older stuff, it reminded him of when he was younger. In those days, he had still been angry, but he’d also had hope he would get his shit together and live the dream. Now he knew the dream was nothing but smoke and mirrors.
He adjusted his tight grip on the steering wheel several times before the light turned green. He pressed the accelerator and drove two more blocks to his motel. It was an older place, but what he liked about it was the front desk took cash. It also did not have cameras.
He shut off the car engine and unhooked his seat belt. “I’m on the first floor.”
That automatic smile returned, and when he unlocked the car doors, she reached to open hers. As she rose, he glanced at her ass. He would bet she was already thinking about what moves she would run through with him so she could get him off fast so she could catch a little sleep.
He moved around the car and met up with her, and the two walked toward the room. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk, and a side-eye glance caught the swell of those tits in the V of her low-cut top. She already was working him, and they had not even gotten inside the room.
He opened the door, clicked on the light, and waited for her to enter. He closed the door behind him and watched as she set her purse by the edge of the bed closest to the door. She walked to the bathroom, looked inside, and then faced him. “What’s your pleasure?”