Dead Women Tell No Lies (27 page)

Rose stood up and fastened her gaze on Luke. He could read the hope in her eyes.

“Did you learn anything new?”

He shook his head and pulled the snack out of his pocket that he’d bought from the vending machine at the station earlier. “It’s a Power Bar. Eat it.” He pressed it into her hands.

Her shoulders tightened as she set the bar next to her tea cup. “How’s Cassie’s mom? Did you reach her?”

“She arrived an hour ago and identified her daughter. She’s settled in a hotel for the evening.”

“I should join her. She shouldn’t be alone.” Rose grabbed her purse and dug inside for her keys. “Where is she?”

“She’s at the Hightail Hotel, but she needs privacy to grieve, and she’s not alone. Her husband and brother arrived half an hour ago. They’re all together. Speak to her tomorrow. Tonight’s not a good time. The reporter from the local channel is circling the area even at this hour. She could have followed me and staked out the building. If you leave, she’ll trail and hound you and Cassie’s parents.”

Rose stuck out her chin. “They’d better not bother her family. Did you find any clues at the river?”

“We’ll know more tomorrow when we process all the information.” The last thing he wanted was to discuss the case. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of her body. He wanted her alive and breathing in his arms.

Frank gathered up the playing cards and stuffed them in his pocket. “Everyone will have a theory in the morning.”

She nodded, dropped her keys into her purse and sank onto the chair. “What about my neighbor, Bike Boy?”

“I sent a uniform over to take his aunt’s statement. She changed her story and claimed Todd’s not missing, just visiting friends she can’t name. She finally confessed she hadn’t heard from him in over a month but waved aside our concerns about his safety. Of course she could be lying and know where he is. I put out a BOLO for him.”

Frank pulled on his beige coat and walked to the door. “Now that we’ve got the changing of the guards, I’ll hit the road.”

“I’ll lock up.” Luke walked with Frank out into the hall and down the stairs. His mind refused to budge from the image of Rose waiting for him upstairs. In the entryway, he paused and put a restraining hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Thanks for staying with her, and remember, don’t go near Buddy Drown. I don’t want to arrest you for stalking.”

“I wouldn’t dream of driving to his home and then sitting outside his house for the rest of the night. I’d lose my beauty sleep.”

“I mean it, Frank.”

The older man waved a hand in the air. “Did the pretty newscaster from Channel 23 follow you? I could get lucky and she’d interview me.” He marched out the doorway and paused on the step. “Remember your own advice. Keep Rose safe and away from Buddy Drown.”

“I won’t forget, and don’t let the blonde newswoman worm details out of you.”

“I’d love her to try.” Frank dropped his voice. “Don’t let this investigation blind you to what’s in front of you. Rose Blue isn’t worth throwing away to prove you can solve a murder. Take it from someone who did it all wrong.”

“Frank, I intend to make the right arrest. One more thing, you’re a great detective.”

“I’m not talking about the job. Forgetting what matters most happens to the best of us. I’d hate for you to repeat the pattern.”

Was he referring to his father or himself? The familiar urge to change the subject attacked him. “I’ll do my job, Frank. The investigation comes first.”

“Don’t forget what’s in front of you. That’s all. Night, Detective.”

Luke listened to the sound of his friend’s footsteps. Lennox dead bolted the door and turned to find Rose in the middle of the staircase. Her tight face and stiff posture warned him she’d overheard his conversation.

“You’re going back to work?”

“I can stay for a cup of coffee.” The flare in her eyes and soft curl of her lips drew him up the steps. He followed her into her apartment. “How many pots of coffee have you had?”

“Two or eight.” She raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t have Espresso but you might like the French Roast.”

“As long as it doesn’t taste like mud, I’ll drink it.”

“Gosh, mudslide was my specialty.” She set to work at the counter. “I’m sure Frank was happy to leave. I couldn’t concentrate on the game. He must have wanted to give me one of those card games for dummies books.” She measured the grinds, releasing their fresh fragrance before she poured them into the coffeemaker. “I’ve been thinking. I’m sorry about the way I acted down at the river. I was a babbling idiot.” She turned to him, her hair falling in her eyes.

“You were in shock. Don’t beat yourself up.” He closed the space between them and brushed the strands from her face. Desire hit him sharp and deep. He wanted to kiss away her pain, and forget duty and regrets.

“I know the truth about Cassie’s death.”

He itched to touch her again. What did she say? She’d withheld information from him? “What do you mean?”

She fiddled with the v-neck collar of her shirt as though trying to loosen it. “Cassie died because the killer was following me the day she visited and probably saw you watching me. He took Cassie when he couldn’t get to me. I should be the one on the riverbank.”

“You’re not making sense. No one deserves to be murdered. Your friend’s death wasn’t a competition.” Rose was talking crazy.

“You misunderstood me if you think that’s what I meant.”

Luke edged closer, and before his brain could shout, stop, his mouth was on hers. His hands moved over her curves, the angles he’d longed to touch. He traced her full lower lip with his tongue, brushed her hair aside and kissed her earlobe.

Sensations curled through him, urging him to touch her everywhere. He took her mouth in a rough kiss. The hint of hazelnut lingered on her tongue.

“Luke,” she murmured before he stole her lips away again. She hooked her hands around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest.

He raised his face and cradled hers in his hands. “Rose, you should—”

She cupped her palm over his mouth. “Let me give you a hint.” She dropped her hand. “Don’t talk. I can’t take any more rejection or hurt.”

He didn’t need any further encouragement. He lifted her chin and kissed her lips gently. She returned the kiss with passion as he slid his hand over her breast. Aroused, he backed her up to the wall. She gasped into his mouth. No, tonight he’d take time for her, for them. He forced himself to step away.

“What are you doing? Are you leaving?” She reached out to stop him.

“I’m all yours.” He swept her up in his arms.

“Wait! Put me down.”

She’d changed her mind? How had he misread her? Women, he’d never understand them. He lowered her to a stand.

She ran to the coffeemaker and pushed the off button. “We don’t want to be interrupted by the fire department.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

He grinned and held out his hand. She linked her fingers through his and led him to the sleeper. Together they laid down on the beige spread. The scent of freshness from the pillowcase and sheets lingered around him. For a moment, he stared into her large hazel-green eyes. She was gorgeous. What luck had brought her to him? Damn if he knew, and he wasn’t going to waste time finding out. He skimmed a finger over her cheek.

“I’ve dreamed about us, alone, together,” she whispered, snuggling closer.

“Are we alone?” He shot glances around the room.

Her lips twitched upward. “Dahlia’s not here. I can’t speak for your ghosts, Lennox.”

“Mine are smart enough to keep out of sight.”

Her amusement faded and her eyes narrowed with sadness. “Hold me. I can’t get the last memory of Cassie out of my mind. Make me forget.”

He needed no encouragement. His fingers traveled down her shirt, coaxing the buttons through their holes. He wasted no time admiring her lingerie except to note it was his favorite shade of blue. He unfastened her bra and kissed each section of her bare skin. She tasted salty like a good whisky sour. Her skin felt smooth beneath his palm as he ran his hands over the length of her body. Her body was soft and hot, hot for him, not the cold of death.

She whispered his name and pressed him to hurry while tugging his shirt away and off his shoulders. He lowered his hands to her jeans as she kissed his jaw, his throat. His anticipation sizzled and ran fast, pushing him to take more, now. He tugged on the zipper of her pants. It refused to budge. He pulled again and muttered an oath of impatience.

“Run into trouble, detective?”

The humor in her voice seemed like a challenge. He yanked the zipper down with restrained strength. The click of the metal teeth announced the success and he removed her last pieces of clothing before speaking to her. “Your turn. I’m at your mercy.” He lay back with a gleam in his eyes.

She attacked him with unexpected energy, tossing aside his pants, shirt and boxers over her shoulder with a devilish grin. “It’s too late for excuses, Lennox!”

“I can’t think of one.”

He rolled them over to her spot on the mattress. Something poked into his upper chest. Raising himself up, he saw the necklace around her throat. He reached down and picked up the butterfly pendant. The one she cherished. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed the ornament.

Her eyes glistened with tears, and she drew his head down to her. All thoughts left him except the fact he wanted her. He kissed her skin with his lips and teeth. Taking his time, he worked his way over every part to savor the taste of her. Her soft cries drove him until he couldn’t wait.

With her legs wrapped around him, he plunged into her. He felt their bodies joined together when a wave of emotion hit him and he became lost in feelings, allowing her soft cries to drive him on.

When he could barely raise a brow he tugged her against his chest and held onto her until his heart calmed. Then he turned on his side, crushing her against him. This was right. This was as it should be. They lay quiet for a long time. She was his, all his. He forgot about dead women, warped killers and the world outside.

He listened to the beat of their hearts tapping its message of happiness. Was that what he’d felt, love, or was it simply old fashion lust? He loosened his grip. She increased hers. Love. He could fall in love with her.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Rose.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled.

He wanted to say more, but caution whispered to not be a fool and enjoy the moment. Finally he gave up the struggle to speak his mind. He threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her mouth to his.

Chapter 21

Luke woke to find the spot next to him empty. He glanced at the clock, five a.m. He’d overslept. When he worked a case, he went to bed after midnight and got up at four to arrive at the station before anyone else. He loved the quiet. He grabbed his pants and went to find Rose. She was seated and writing at the table. Her head was bent, and the sight of her blonde, rumpled hair around her face increased his craving for her.

She raised her mug and caught sight of him. “Good morning, would you like coffee?”

“You couldn’t wait for daylight to inhale your first cup of the day.”

“I plead guilty and an old nightmare woke me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’ve had the dream for years. My mother is tucking me into bed and when she leans down to kiss me goodnight, her eyes are gone.” Rose’s lips trembled. “I know the dream was caused by one of the kids at school who used to taunt me and Dahlia. He told us spiders crawled into my mom’s coffin to eat her flesh, especially her eyes.”

“Delightful.” He’d love to meet the bully. “He’s probably a serial killer now.” “Congressman.” She raised her head and grinned. “I got even though. One day I kicked him good between the legs when he started taunting us. The teacher kept me in from the next recess, but it was worth it.”

“I understand your fear of eight legged creatures better.” He put a hand on her shoulder and bent forward, enjoying her heat under his palm, the scent of her body after lovemaking and gave her a kiss.

She sighed and put her chin in her hand. “I used to hope if my Mom lived she’d be like my Gram. You know, sensible and a homebody who wanted to stay with us and not roam around chasing men.”

He straddled the chair next to her. This was not the conversation he’d expected, but he’d go with it for a short time, and then he intended to start his morning with Rose Blue, not coffee.

“Do you speak to your mother?”

The corner of her mouth tilted upward. “Is this a sanity quiz? Afraid you slept with an unbalanced woman?”

“I can handle the idea.” He leaned forward and kissed her. She tasted of cinnamon. “Hmm, I approve your coffee choice,” he said, breaking away.

“Glad you approve.” Rose gulped down a mouthful of drink and then continued. “My mother’s too busy even in death to speak to me. Family was never important to her. If she talks to anyone from the grave, it’s probably an old boyfriend. I’d like to think maybe it’s my father, but no one knows about him.”

“Your Gram didn’t know your dad either?”