Crave (4 page)

Nothing can harm me.

“You know.” Her voice was thick. She heard it, and she didn’t care.

“I do.”

“How?”

His eyes were kind when she glanced up. “I told you, Detective. There are no secrets here. It came up when I did a search for related crimes searching the back database.”

“Who else?” A spike of adrenaline shot through her. God. That was all she needed. Tampon jokes were bad enough. Now she’d have to deal with even worse if this got out.

“No one else knows. I redacted the file and replaced it.”

“You can do that?”

“No,” he cleared his throat and looked away. “I can’t, but I did. There were some awful things done to you but I also know this: you don’t stop when you start a case. If this one feels personal, it is.”

Linnet shivered. So
personal
she couldn’t believe it. “I’ve been following it a little. How many now?”

“This would be number seven. All of them submissives. All of them brown hair, brown eyes.”

“Like me.” Correction. Like she had been.

They’d never found the bastard. He’d apparently been thrown out on his ass and that was it. Until the police report they took at the hospital when they did the rape kit. The people at the club didn’t even get his real name. He might as well have been a ghost. She eyed the scars on her wrists from where the straps cut into her flesh. The rest of her body bore similar flaws. But the worst thing? He’d taken something from her that she could never replace.

Gage.

When she’d woken up in the hospital, she didn’t want him to see her. At first it was because she blamed him for letting her fall prey to her nameless attacker. Then as the years went on and she went through therapy she understood what it really was. She didn’t want him to witness her ruined body. She was scarred inside and out, and she couldn’t bear to see the pity in his eyes. He was there in her dreams. It would have to be enough. She didn’t need that part of her life anymore. At least that’s what she told herself. But she’d always regretted running away and not speaking with Gage.

So she’d made up her mind never to be weak again. To take back control of her life one piece at a time. Therapy led to an awakening that she wanted to be a cop. She could catch bastards like the one who had hurt her. The Sex Crimes unit was the logical choice. Now here she was, the case she’d been dreaming of staring her in the face.

It had to be him. God.

Captain Ramkin met her gaze. “Are you up for it? ’Cause if you’re not, I’ll let Dean and Graceling keep tripping down the rabbit hole. They don’t know what they’re doing, and I need someone who understands the ins and outs of this world to make a difference.”

“What if it’s him?” She let the photograph flutter back onto the desk where it joined other images so profane it hurt to look for long.

“What do you remember?”

Linnet swallowed. “Everything.”

“Hello? Earth to Linnet…” Jonesy tapped the glass of the driver’s side door, and she almost wet her pants.

“Dammit, Jonesy! You’re going to give me a heart attack.” The panicked beating of her heart slowly subsided to a more natural rhythm, and she flung open the car door. As she did, the Texas air sucked out the air conditioning and replaced it with a swampy humid mess. Lost in her memories, she didn’t even hear him get out of the car.

“Missed.”

“I won’t next time.”

“Got you off your butt, didn’t I?”

Linnet blinked. He did. She’d forgotten her discomfort in her moment of anger. “Yeah. Wow.”

She thought she’d learned more control than that, but apparently this case was already pressing some of her buttons. Hell, she hadn’t even gotten inside the building yet.

“God, you’re easy. Come on. Let’s go see what has the captain’s knickers in a twist, shall we?” He gave her a wink, his hazel eyes sparkling in the mid afternoon sun. His bald head and
café au lait
complexion were no nonsense until you looked down. Her partner had a penchant for loud Hawaiian shirts that always made her grin. 

Her phone went off, a text flashing across her screen.

There will be a psychologist on site. Dr. Ryder Jamison. I want you to liaison with him.

“He sent a shrink?”

Was it for the scene or for her? Bastard.

“What?” Jones stopped, his look searching.

“Cap is up to no good again.”

“Let me see.” Jones took the phone and whistled. “Are you going to tell me why?”

“No.” Linnet snatched the phone from his hands and stuffed it into the holster at her waist. Right next to her gun. Two seconds in and she’d already forgotten she was the one on the other side of the fence this time. The one with the power. Linnet took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s go.”

The gravel in the parking lot crunched underneath her boots, and Linnet smoothed her hands down her jeans. Tugging the suit jacket down, she felt the familiar weight of her gun beneath it and kept walking.

Jones held the tape up for her, and she ducked beneath it, swinging right into the middle of the fray. Uniformed cops walked the club floor, poking fun at the accoutrements hanging on the wall. Dean and Graceling were up ahead talking to some of what looked like regular club-goers. The man wore leathers and the woman a corset and a barely-there thong with heels. No doubt their adventuresome evening had ended much differently from what they’d originally planned.

In the light of day, the club looked tired and worn. She glanced up at the moniker on the wall and clucked her tongue on the upper roof of her mouth. Ruins. Not even the name of the club sounded appealing. Her nerves were on edge, and she pressed them down. With every step, she came closer and closer to confronting a demon seven years in the making.

“Excuse me. Are you Detective Adams?” A man stepped into her path, and Linnet nearly ran into him. Longish dark hair swept around his chiseled features and full lips. A white button-down long-sleeved shirt strained against the muscular form beneath and was tucked into a very docile looking pair of khaki slacks. Brown shoes completed the outfit, and Linnet had to smile for the contrast of his attire and the environment they were in.

“I am.”

“Oh. You must be the shrink.” Jones eyed the newcomer with thinly veiled distain. “Are you here for the crime scene or my partner?”

“Jonesy!” Linnet’s eyes opened wide, and her teeth ground together. “Why don’t you go talk to Dean and Graceling. I’ll be over in a second.”

“You sure?” The question seemed casual, but she could read the concern brewing behind his gaze.

“Yes. Go ahead. I’ll be fine.” She took a breath and turned back to the stranger. “I’m sorry. My captain just informed me you would be here.”

“Dr. Ryder Jamison. I hope I can help.” His warm brown eyes simmered with kindness, and she wanted to fall inside of their somehow familiar depths.

Why did it seem like she’d met him before?

His gaze trailed over her, and a warm sensation pooled low in her stomach.
God.
Of all the times for her to go all girly, this was not it.

“Have we met?”

“I think I’d remember you, Detective. So no. I don’t believe we have.” But even as he said it, she could see the lie in his words. He was hiding something. For a moment, she considered responding but decided against it. She would confront him later when they weren’t surrounded by death and about a thousand cops of all flavors.

“What exactly are you here to help with?”

He cleared his throat. “Your captain informed me that you might require some assistance on the case. I’m considered an expert in these types of crimes.”

“So you’ve helped with the previous crime scenes?”

“Yes.” His answer was clipped, and his eyes traveled somewhere else for a moment, no doubt revisiting the horrors she’d only glanced at in photographs. “Seven years. We’ve been trying to find the murderer, and finally it seems we have a common denominator.”

“What?”

“You.”

She swallowed.

“Are you part of the community, Doctor?”

He met her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes, Detective. I am.”

She nodded, unsure how to respond. “So he didn’t tell you exactly why I’ve been called to the scene then?” Linnet didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed at her boss but at the moment she didn’t care. Like it or not, Jamison had hit the nail on the head. She was the common denominator, and it made her sick.

“Only that you had experience in this area as well but would need my particular type of assistance.” His eyes slid away, focusing instead on the spanking bench in the distance.

Another lie. Well. Now that was interesting.

“Let’s walk.”

“As you wish.” He held out his arm and she passed him, winding her way through the landscape of tables and chairs and finally into the more intimate areas. She made her way forward but couldn’t shake the sensation of his eyes moving over her body. It should have creeped her out, but strangely enough she felt comfortable for the first time since she’d entered the club.

The floor was much like other clubs, a spanking bench then a space for exhibition. A series of hallways branched off, and techs lingered at the entrance to one  cluster fuck of a crime scene.

“We go in here.” She snagged a pair of booties and handed him a set.

They’d taken two steps and were stopped by a uniformed officer. Linnet flashed her badge and was allowed clearance, but Dr. Jamison was stopped.

“He’s with me.”

“It’s not authorized.”

“It is now. Unless you want to argue about it with Ramkin, I’d let the man pass.” Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her chin, daring him to continue to challenge her.

“Fine. Don’t puke on the corpse.” He turned his back and resumed the conversation he was having with another uniformed officer.

“That’s weird he didn’t put you on the list.”

“I agree, Detective. But he didn’t realize our murderer would be ahead of schedule by two days.” He tugged on the booties and was ready in moments.

“Okay then. Don’t step in any blood.” She had no idea what to say to that. Linnet turned from him and proceeded into the room but stopped dead when she came face to face with the crime scene. The head crime scene tech approached them and gave a nod.

“Detective Adams. I’m glad you’re here.” The tall Asian man brushed an unruly strand of bangs out of his eyes. He felt around in his white coat for something and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. “Dr. Jamison. Good to see you as well. It’s been awhile.”

“Yes, Chris. Thankfully it has.” He shook the tech’s hand.

“Hey, Chris.” She took the paper. “What’s this?”

“Ramkin asked me to leave the scene intact until you arrived in case you had any questions. He also wanted me to give you some of the stats on this and the other cases. Said you’d be lending some of your experience to the scene. “

“So nice of him,” she said wryly.

Chris chuckled. “Yeah. If you’ll hurry and have a look, we can get this mess processed as soon as possible.”

“Thanks.” Linnet urged Jamison forward with a nod of her head.  She stepped carefully, making sure she didn’t contaminate the scene. The honey pine wooden cross was huge and took up the back half of the room. The woman hung by her wrists, the weight of her body dragging down toward the ground.

Don’t think about it. Just do your job.

Fear choked her as the memories she’d fought so hard to suppress came crashing back into her present tense. The sensation of the straps on her wrists… the strike of the whip as it grazed her back… the horror of him touching her and not being able to escape.

Linnet clenched her teeth and forced herself to stare at the paper in her hand. She couldn’t read a word of it. It was shaking too badly.

Shit.

“Let me.” His eyes met hers, and a jolt of awareness shuttled through her. She did know him. Those eyes… Jamison took the paper and scanned its contents. His lips thinned and he glanced up at the body. “So you think she died from her wounds? A bleed out?”

“I do.” Chris pointed at the slices along her skin. “Of course an autopsy will tell us conclusively, but the amount of blood and the spray patterns tell a story, and I believe that’s how she died.”

“He kept her for hours.” Linnet spoke softly, but the two men heard her.

“Yes. I should think so. The only question is, why didn’t the Dungeon Monitors catch this guy in the act?” Jamison frowned and approached the body, taking care not to step in any of the evidence. As he walked around behind the back of the cross he called out to Chris.

“Can you come back here?”

“What did you see?” The crime scene tech scurried back, his white coat flying out behind him.

“What is it?” Linnet wanted to move, but her feet were bolted firmly to the ground, her eyes riveted on the body.

“Did they get a picture of this?” Jamison barked out a question, and Linnet started.

Chris floundered, flipping through pages of documentation. “I don’t know. They must have, but no one said anything. Otherwise…”

“Was this at the other scenes?”

“No one saw it.” The tech pressed his lips together. “I’ll have them go over the photos again. You have to remember it’s been seven years.”

“Then I think you may consider checking. A woman’s life is on the line here.” Jamison’s voice was tight, and his eyes flashed anger as he emerged from behind the cross. “We need to leave, Linnet. I’m sorry your captain thought it would be good to bring you here.”

“What’s happened?”

Jones approached, and Jamison waylaid him. “A word, please.” The doctor waved him back toward where Chris now worked with a photographer and another analyst.

“What the fuck?” Jones exclaimed, his gaze hot when his eyes swiveled toward Linnet.

What the hell was going on?

“I know. If the captain had any idea he never would have assigned her. And if he did… God.”

“We have to get her out. Now. Then we get answers.” Jones came around from behind the cross, his face grim.

“Agreed. I’ll follow.”

Alarm skittered down Linnet’s back. They were keeping something from her. Something important. She pushed her fear down and started forward. Time for her Domme face, mask or not.