Deliver Me from Temptation (10 page)

Like any other psychopath before he went over the edge.

She looked over his shoulder to the front door. Would it be unlocked? Could she make it by him without him trying to stop her? Without her having to draw her gun?

An image of him, legs twisted awkwardly, eyes staring as blood bloomed from his chest onto the polished hardwood floors sprang into her mind, causing her to shudder. She told herself she could do it if she had to, but the trembling in her limbs told her a different story.

“There’s nothing I can say that would convince you I’m not that man, is there?” His voice seemed sad as he said this, but she refused to let that sway her.

“Probably not,” she said, forcing the image out of her mind. Deal with the now. This instant. She’d cross that bridge only if she were forced to.

He sighed, jiggling his keys as he pushed open the door. “Come on. I’ll drive you to your car. Unless you’d rather I call you a cab. Or maybe a friend?”

Okay, except maybe that. What stalker would tell her to call a friend? He could still be playing her, she supposed, but she didn’t think so. Or at least she didn’t want to think so.

She tapped her jacket pocket, comforted by the weight of her cell phone, but when she opened her mouth she said, “I’ll take the ride.”

He nodded, gesturing for her to go first. She walked down the steps, her brows rising as she took in the car and neighborhood. They screamed money. Both the understated yet classic lines of the Audi and the well-kept brownstones.

“What do you do?”

“I’m an antiquities consultant,” he said as he opened the passenger door and held it open for her.

She nodded, sliding into the passenger seat. Though she didn’t buy it at all. Not after seeing him fight, and not after being the recipient of that wow-fuck-me-now-please kiss.

And that was something she should not be thinking about. She looked straight ahead, ignoring everything other than the street signs as he drove them out of the neighborhood. Greenpoint. Brooklyn. One of those nice, quaint, Victorian streets with a pretty church at the end. And quite the jog back to the garage where her car had had its sleepover.

They did finally arrive, and she waited tensely as he got his ticket, then sucked in a breath as they drove forward, passing from the light of day into the artificial light of the garage, and then shivered as they took the ramp to the level where her car was parked. She made a point to stare directly at the spot where she was taken down, and then turned her gaze to the elevator where she imagined the third man. It made her tense, and a glaze of sweat slicked over her skin, but she had to do it.

Like getting back onto a bike.

Logan double-parked his car behind hers, the locks clicking to their unlocked position. She reached for the door handle but his hand on her arm stilled her.

She turned her head, then wished she hadn’t when their gazes lined up. Her breath caught at the intensity in his eyes. He held out a business card, his voice earnest as he spoke. “Promise me you’ll call if you need anything.”

She stared at the card like it was a snake, and shook her head. To take it would be akin to inviting temptation. Her reasoning was so far from acceptable where he was concerned.

“Please. Just in case.”

“Anything like what?”

He shrugged. “Help with anything. Or just to talk.”

And that was exactly what she was afraid of. It would be so easy to give in to her desire to know this man.

She stared at the card. Block letter script on white. Simple. Harmless unless she allowed herself to make it otherwise. “Just because I take it doesn’t mean I’ll ever call.”

“I know.” His eyes saddened as he said this, his mouth turned down in a grim line as if the thought of never seeing or hearing from her again was truly painful for him.

Oh yeah. Definitely a stalker. Yet…

She reached out, snapping the card from between his fingers and stuffing it into the back pocket of her jeans.

His eyes flared, stormy gray before warming to a bluish-green slate color, but all he said was a simple, “Thank you.”

“I’ve got to go,” she said and pushed out of the car, then jogged across the garage to her own.

Jessica felt acid eating the lining of her stomach as she approached the block of the crime scene. She’d barely stripped out of her ruined jacket when the call came from dispatch. She’d slapped on some new bandages on her arm and a healthy dose of concealer while dialing Mike’s cell. He was already on his way.

It had taken almost thirty-five minutes to get through the midday traffic, and the body wasn’t getting any fresher. Not that freshness would matter. If she were right, it had already been there for a while.

Pausing at a stoplight, Jessica checked her phone again. Its display confirmed what she already knew: no calls, no texts. Though what did she expect?

Heart thudding, she made the turn onto the street dispatch had indicated and cursed. Definitely the last one here. And didn’t that piss her off all over again. It was Logan’s fault. If he hadn’t brought her to his place. If he hadn’t seduced her with forest-fire kisses and mouth-watering omelets. If he hadn’t…
saved
you, Jessica? What then? Would you even be here to be late?

“Crap.” Striking Logan from her mind, she double-parked across the street from the crime scene and grabbed her phone. A couple buttons and she was redialing the same number she’d tried over a dozen times since she’d heard from dispatch. It rang. And rang.

“Come on. Come on!” Nothing. She cursed, ending the call. “This better not be you in there, Grim.”

Shoving the phone in her belt clip she stepped out of her car, a shudder running over her.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath and crossed the street to the dim alley she’d visited two nights before. Her boots rang on the hard pavement, drawing attention from the nearest officer. She was relieved to see it wasn’t some green-faced newbie, but one of the older cops nearing retirement.

Good. He’d keep it together and hold the line against any gawkers. Not that there were any. Even in the middle of the day, this place seemed to be all but abandoned.

“Yo, Jessica! I think this is a first. Mike even beat you,” Tony said.

Jessica tried to flash a rueful smile at him, but ended up grimacing instead as the movement pulled on the newly scabbed skin across her cheekbone. Tony’s eyes widened and he whistled. “Wow. What the heck happened to you?”

“Just a little mishap on the way to my car.”

“With what? Another car?”

“No, uh, just a couple of evening commuters.”

He shook his head. “Bastards. Did they at least say sorry when they knocked you down?”

“Not exactly.”

“Damn. What is the world coming to?” He sighed, holding up the yellow and black tape to let her through. “Go on back. Mike’s talking to the ME while they wait for the photographer and crime scene unit to finish.”

“Right.”

She made her way down the side street, the sounds of the investigative team playing like a homicide-cops urban symphony. The clicking of a camera was the erratic drummer, the scuff of boots on gritty pavement the counter beat, and the gruff voices lowered in funeral hall tones claimed the melody. It was punctuated by other sounds as well, the occasional static of the police scanner and the distant hum of midmorning traffic, but all in all the scene, right smack in the middle of the Bronx, was eerily subdued. The street clung to the isolation she’d felt the other night when she stood in its entrance at nearly three a.m.

Mike and the ME stood just on the outskirts of the CSU team, their arms folded in similar poses as they waited.

“So what do we have?” Jessica asked quietly, sidling up beside them.

“A dead body,” the ME, Melissa, deadpanned, breaking the unusual silence with a large snap of her gum. Melissa always had a piece of gum in her mouth, said it helped distract her from the odors. And though the snap caused a few heads to turn, no one was going to ask her to spit it out or give them a piece. Smart, considering Melissa, with her tree-trunk arms and spiky gray hair, looked more like a tough-edged biker than the grandmother she actually was, and the gum was her replacement for the cigarettes she used to suck down.

Jessica sighed. “Homicide I presume?”

Melissa shrugged. “Can’t tell for sure since the body is half buried in trash, but judging simply by the location?”

“Christ, Jessica, what happened to you?” Mike exclaimed, drawing another handful of stares. Even Melissa dragged her eagle-eyed focus away from the Dumpster to look at her. The ME’s eyes widened, and she whistled.

“Wow, purdy.”

“It’s noth—” Jessica flinched as Mike’s hand closed around her chin, turning her face to the side to get a better look at the angry looking scratches on her cheek. At least she’d managed to cover the bruise to her temple.

“Jesus.” He fingered her temple, sending off shots of pain beneath her skin across her forehead and scalp.

Okay, so the bruise might be hidden, but she guessed the lump wasn’t. She reached up, slapping at his hand. “Stop prodding it, will you?”

He glared at her and crossed his arms across his chest. “Well?”

“Well what?”

Jessica’s skin itched as her guilt levels spiked. Mike was concerned, and she was being a bitch. But she really didn’t want to get into what happened. Especially with others around. Nope, her stupidity was something she’d like to keep private, thank you very much. She shrugged. “Just a little mishap. Nothing big.”

“A mishap? What kind? Hit and run?”

“Yeah, you know those evening commuters.”

The skin around his eyes crinkled, his gaze narrowing. She was beginning to think the impending shake down and lecture might be unavoidable when someone whistled, drawing their attention.

“We’re going to have to remove the body to finish collecting evidence from the Dumpster. You want to get in here first?” one of the members of the CSU team asked them.

“Hell, yeah,” Melissa said, boots clicking on the pavement. Mike gave Jessica a look that said, “We’ll talk about this later,” and fell in beside her. They moved forward as the rest of the team moved back to the edge of the scene, taking a breather. Not that there could really be one, the smell of death already clogged the alley, though it was definitely worse next to the Dumpster. Jessica was tall, but she still had to lift onto her tip toes to get a good view inside. She didn’t even realize her gut had clenched up until the knots eased, allowing her to swallow. Not Grim. The body was beaten to a pulp, the limbs at odd angles, dried blood coating the fabric, but even though the face wasn’t visible this man was Caucasian and Grim was not.

“Did you do a preliminary time of death yet?” she asked Melissa, hoping against hope the ME would say last night or early this morning.

“No. But judging by the bloating and the smell? I’d say more than a day.”

Jessica swore. The coincidence that it was this alley, fewer than forty-eight hours after her botched meet and greet, was too much. Even with the garbage, she should have been able to smell a dead body rotting in the Dumpster—unless it was a fresh dead body. Which meant it was more than likely that this was the informant Grim had been trying to set her up with.

Damn, damn, damn. Of all the luck. Why her? And where the heck was Grim?

A hand touched her arm, drawing her back. Jessica turned to look into Mike’s baby-blue eyes, his stare accusing. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

Time to pay the piper.

She stretched her neck. One way, then the other. “I, uh, may have a lead on who our victim is.”

Mike sucked in a breath, glancing briefly at the Dumpster before returning his gaze to her. “How?”

Jessica sighed, nodding to Mike to step further away. She’d seen enough and wanted Melissa to do her thing and get them the details they needed.

“It could be coincidence, but there’s a good chance I was supposed to meet the man in there.”

“When? Why?”

“Two nights ago. Well, a day and a half really. It was more of an early morning meeting.”

Mike’s lips thinned, but he didn’t say anything, rolling his hand to indicate she should go on.

“One of my snitches who knew I was looking for leads on Thomas Rhodes claimed to know someone who knew something about Tom’s death. He was really spooked, though. Insisted on just me and the super secret meeting spot.”

Mike shook his head. “Who was it?”

“Not was. Is.” She glanced at the Dumpster. “Anyway Grim—my snitch—set me up to meet the guy. Grim was just going to show long enough to make introductions.”

“Not much blood other than on the body.” He lifted and dropped his shoulders. “Probably dumped.”

She nodded, but she’d wait for the ME’s and CSU’s report before she decided one way or the other and then take it from there. “Anyway, presuming our victim is the informant Grim was setting me up with, then he supposedly had some intel for me on Thomas Rhodes.”

“What kind of intel?”

“What offed Tom kind of intel.”

Mike folded his arms, looking back at the Dumpster. “Huh. You think he really had something?”

“Grim is usually reliable.”

Melissa scrambled down from her precarious perch on the Dumpster. She waved at a couple of her techs and they ran over with a stretcher, body bag unzipped and on top. Mike and Jessica were silent as they watched Melissa’s team pull the body and stuff it into the black bag and roll it out of the way for CSU to get to work on the contents of the Dumpster itself.

“Come on,” Jessica jerked her head toward where Melissa was bending over the stretcher. Mike followed with a sigh. Jessica couldn’t blame him. Smelling the body in the Dumpster would be bad enough. Seeing the full extent of the damage up close and personal? Not a job anyone enjoyed. But if doing so was a way to take the criminals off the streets, then she’d suck down as many breakfasts as she had to—not that she’d had one that morning. Damn, those omelets had smelled good.

Don’t think about it, Jess. Or him. Definitely not him.

“Anything interesting?” she asked Melissa when they were close.

Melissa glanced at them absently, motioning them to get closer. Not a good idea. Jessica may not have had breakfast but the pulverized face that stared back at her was porcelain-goddess-worthy anyway.

“Nice,” Mike said, his face as green as hers felt.

“And positively screaming his life story at me too,” Melissa put in excitedly, obviously not at all phased by the sight.

“How so?” Jessica sucked back down the bile to ask.

“See these scars?” Melissa pointed to some scarring around the throat. Jessica and Mike bent closer as they tried to pick out the marks against the bloated and bruised skin. To Jessica it didn’t look like anything but a mess of old scarring.

“What is that?”

“If I had to guess? Bite marks.”

Her head jerked up. “Bite marks. Like a dog?”

“Not exactly.”

“What then?”

“Not sure, but the other side is even better.” Melissa pressed her latex gloved fingers against the side of the corpse’s head, forcing it the other way so the left side of the neck was better exposed. “See this?” The ME pressed two fingers against the scarred flesh on that side, pointing out two spots where the scarring was thickest, then slid her fingers slightly lower and pointed out another couple of scabbed-over puncture wounds, two twin trails dried blood coming out from them. “And this?”

Jessica nodded, a tug of a memory drifting in and out of her mind before she could grasp it. Something about the partly scabbed wounds did look familiar. Like she’d seen a similar wound recently. Like maybe on…
Logan?

She shook the thought off, forcing herself to concentrate on what the ME was saying.

“Both this newer one and the older ones were formed the same way.” Melissa’s fingers moved back to the older scarring. “If you can get past the layers of scarring and recent bruising you can see these pairings on both sides of the neck. This is where the canines sunk in; the rest of the scarring, which isn’t as thick, is minor tear wounds.”

A chill ran down Jessica’s spine, making her shiver. Bite wounds. Punctures, scraped and torn flesh. What was it Grim had been spouting? Something about this guy knowing about shit that would make your hair stand on end. Paranormal crap like vampires. Creatures with sharp canines and superhuman strength. Maybe even claws? Claws that might match the strange puncture wounds she’d found under her bandages?

She rubbed her arm.
Has
to
be
another
explanation.
Those men last night had been strong and fast but then again, she’d been damn tired.

She shifted, indicating to Mike that he should take over. Hopefully, he thought she was letting him take the lead because she was mulling things over, not because she was mentally freaking out.

“So…punctures and tearing,” Mike drawled. “Wouldn’t that indicate some sort of animal? Like, you know, a dog?”

The ME shook her head. “I’ve seen scars from dog bites.” She fingered the punctures again. “These don’t strike me as that. Possibly another animal, but…”

“But what?” Mike pressed.

“Don’t laugh, but I think they’re fangs.” Melissa made a hissing noise, her mouth open as she used her two fingers to curl down like canines before her mouth. Jessica sucked in a breath, remembering the flash of the thug’s fucked-up teeth last night; her own momentary shock as Grim’s babblings leapt to the front of her thoughts, serving up a totally unreasonable explanation: vampires.

Not
possible
.

“Oh, come on,” Mike scoffed. “Fangs? As in vampires?”

“You seen some of the crap they’re doing with cosmetic dentistry recently?” Melissa asked him.

“You think a human did this?”

Melissa shrugged. “I’m just saying. There are some real wackos out there. Some people into some really freaky Goth shit.”

Jessica made some excuse and stepped away. For a few moments, she’d actually entertained the idea that the men she saw last night could have been vampires. But Melissa indicated their victim had been gnawed on not just once, but multiple times, to result in that sort of scarring. Which was asinine. No person, no matter what sort of freaky shit he was into, would lie there and willingly let someone gnaw on his neck—and come back for more. Obviously their ME had been watching way too much
True
Blood
recently. And Jessica had been getting too little sleep. Oh, she didn’t doubt that Melissa was partially right. Their victim had obviously been attacked at one point by something with enlarged canines, but even if it was human, the poor fool must have been restrained during the freaky Goth-vampire bloodletting session.