Insatiable Desire (12 page)
Like being on her hands and knees and loving him. Even now, with anxiety over the evil in the town needling her, she felt drawn to him, knew that if he ever took her to bed she’d let him do whatever he wanted to with her.
Deputy Bluster stormed into the room, muttering under his breath, but paused when he noticed Clarissa. His expression immediately changed into a smile. “Morning, Clarissa.”
She struggled for composure. “Hi, Tim.”
Vincent’s expression hardened, but he stepped aside, and Tim moved nearer as if to claim his territory.
Vincent poured himself a cup of coffee, then filled a second one and handed it to her. “You called the sheriff about another missing girl?”
She nodded, surprised at his gesture. “Yes. He used snakes this time.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened. “You don’t have a name or face?”
She shook her head, mentally straining for a clear picture of the girl’s face, but everything was vague. “Not yet. But I hope she’ll talk to me again.”
“How about Mrs. Canton? I thought you were bringing her in.”
“She wasn’t feeling well.” Clarissa sipped the coffee, grateful for something to do with her hands. “I suggested she try to eat something, said we’d stop by later.”
Waller loped in, pulled at his chin, the craggy lines of his face more pronounced this morning, as if the case had already added ten years. “Clarissa, you know anything else about the girl?”
“I’m afraid not. Have you heard anything?”
He rubbed a hand across his cell phone where it was belted to his waist. “No bodies have turned up, but I just got a call from Trina Lamar. She babysits little Petey, Sadie Sue LaCoy’s little boy. She said Sadie Sue didn’t come home last night at all.”
Tim sighed. “You know she works at the Bare-It-All. She probably got hooked up with a john and just hasn’t shown up yet.”
“Maybe.” Sheriff Waller shrugged. “But Trina’s worried and upset. Petey is crying for his mama, and Trina says that Sadie Sue is always home by five. She’s obsessive about being there in the mornings when the baby wakes up.”
Vincent brushed Clarissa’s arm, a gentle touch that took her off guard.
She expected him to argue, but instead he cleared his throat. “Let’s go check it out. Then I want to talk to Mrs. Canton.”
Their gazes locked, the heat between them simmering as his dark eyes pierced hers. She read his distrust, suspicion, hesitation. For a brief second, something else flickered in his eyes, a moment of truth, as if he accepted, maybe even suspected that she might be right.
Or had she imagined it because she wanted him to believe in her more than she’d wanted anyone’s approval in a long time?
Daisy Wilson had crawled in bed as soon as she’d arrived home this morning at seven a.m. She’d been working the swing shift for so long that she’d adjusted to the hours and slept during the day, but the heat in the house woke her midmorning.
Or maybe it was the noise.
She jerked her eyes open and reached to tear off her sleep mask, but before she could rip it off, a breath fanned her cheek.
J.J.? Had he slipped inside without her hearing him come in? Was he here to surprise her? Tell her he’d stopped drinking, that he wanted to be with her more than he wanted the bottle? Or that he wouldn’t ask her to play out his twisted fantasies?
The scent of something rancid teased her.
When J.J. was drunk, he liked to get rough. The very reason she’d broken it off with him.
She tried to scream. But two large hands pressed her down into the mattress. She tried to fight, but her body was paralyzed.
What had he done to her? Why couldn’t she move her arms and legs? Had he drugged her in her sleep?
Please, J.J., she whispered. But no sound emerged from her mouth. Only the sound of him moving. Suddenly she realized he was undressing her. She tried to see his face, but the room was so dark, all she could make out was shadows. A hulking, large black shadow.
Panic seized her. Was it J.J., or someone else?
Hot air seared her skin, air that she realized was his breath as he moved down her body, pulling at her clothes until she lay completely naked.
A sob caught in her throat, and tears spilled down her eyes. He was going to rape her, then kill her.
But instead of climbing on top of her, he tore off a long strip of plastic wrap and wound it around her feet.
Oh, God . . .
He bound them tightly, then worked upward, winding the wrap around her legs, then around her midriff and breasts, stretching it so tautly that it cut off her circulation. He bound her arms to her sides and wound the plastic wrap around them, gluing them to her body like a mummy, then lifted her head and began to wind it up her throat.
A scream echoed in her mind. God help her. Please. She’d always been terrified of being suffocated.
The room spun. She felt light-headed and nauseated. Then a numbness seeped through her, robbing her of feeling. Snippets of her life flashed in the darkness. A time when she was little and played dolls with her sister. The day she’d buried her mama. Her brother’s wedding last year, when she’d been a bridesmaid. The babies at the hospital that she tended to daily.
The fact that she wanted one of her own and hadn’t had a chance to have one.
He secured the plastic wrap totally around her mouth, then her nose and eyes, and pure terror shot through her. She gasped for air, struggling to make her lungs work, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe . . .
“Give me your soul and I’ll let you live,” he murmured against her ear.
What?
“Your soul,” he whispered.
Then a sliver of light shattered the darkness. Her mother’s hand reaching for her.
“Don’t give in to him,” her mother whispered. “He’s evil, Daisy. He’ll make you evil, as well.” Her mother began to sing a hymn about redeeming grace that Daisy remembered from childhood, the very song she had sung at her mother’s funeral. “There’ll be no sorrow in heaven . . .”
Daisy’s chest heaved for a breath, but it was futile. Her mother’s hand brushed Daisy’s head, soft and beckoning, comforting. Daisy stopped fighting and latched on to her voice.
“Come with me—heaven is beautiful.”
She reached for her mother, let the darkness swallow her completely, knowing that the light waited for her on the other side.
That her mother would help her enter it. And then the pain would be over.
V
incent followed Clarissa and the sheriff outside, leaving the deputy to man the station.
“Valtrez, check Sadie Sue’s house. I’m going to look around town for her,” Waller said.
Vincent gestured toward his Land Rover, and Clarissa climbed in, knotting her hands in her lap.
“You’ll have to give me directions to where she lives.”
“Go through town and turn left on Greenbriar Road,” Clarissa said. “She has a trailer about a mile up on the left.”
He shifted into gear, wound through the square, the sun nearly blinding him on the curve around the bluff as they left town. Clarissa pointed out a dirt road, and he veered onto it, gravel spewing from his wheels.
“Tell me about Sadie Sue,” Vincent said. “Are you sure she wouldn’t just take off and abandon her kid?”
Clarissa winced. “I don’t think so. She had it rough growing up, and her mother threw her out when she became pregnant. But she loves that baby. She’d never just leave him.” She chewed her bottom lip, then glanced out the window. “You may not approve of how she makes her living, but she’s stripping to give her little boy a better life.”
Vincent tried to ignore the worry in her voice, just as he tried not to notice the way the sun streaked her auburn hair and made it shimmer, and the fine bones of her hands as she stroked her arms.
Vincent spotted the run-down trailer sitting on the hill and turned into the drive. What little grass had survived the heat in the weed-infested yard was brown, and several tree stumps and broken limbs were scattered around the ground from a storm. A Chevy with peeling paint and a dented fender that probably hadn’t run in years was parked in back, weeds overtaking it. A wading pool filled with water and pine needles, a cheap plastic ball, and a worn stroller sat near the sagging porch.
Without speaking, he parked and they climbed out, the sun beating down on his neck as they waded through the weeds to the steps. Clarissa knocked, and a baby’s shrill cry echoed from inside, making him tense.
Children didn’t like him, and he didn’t belong in their innocent world.
The door swung open, and a haggard-looking older woman with Coke bottle glasses stared up at them, the crying baby propped on her ample hip. She smelled like strained peas and sweat and wore the evidence on her baggy housedress.
“Miss Trina,” Clarissa said. “This is Agent Vincent Valtrez from the FBI.”
Trina jiggled the baby, but the more she bounced him, the more he screamed and waved his chunky fists.
“Did you find Sadie Sue?” the woman asked.
“No,” Clarissa answered. “But the sheriff is combing the town looking for her.”
“Can we come in?” Vincent asked.
“Sure.” She gestured toward the entry, and he followed Clarissa inside the cluttered room. The smell of baby formula, dirty diapers, and musty clothing permeated the air. The den was filled with tattered furniture, a TV set with a rabbit-eared antenna, and a playpen full of plastic toys.
“I just can’t seem to quiet Petey.” Miss Trina ran a hand through her tangled hair as she swept aside a stack of laundry piled on the sofa, then gestured for them to sit down. Instead of sitting, though, Clarissa cooed at the baby, clapped her hands softly, and reached for him.
“Come here, sugar. I’m sure Miss Trina’s worn out, and you need some fresh arms.”
Clarissa patted him gently, her voice so soft that it soothed the baby’s screams. Like a woman born with natural mothering instincts, she claimed the rocking chair and hummed a lullaby as she rocked the baby in her arms.
The door screeched open, and Trina rushed to greet Sadie Sue. “Sadie Sue, oh, my word. We’ve been worried sick about you.”
Vincent sized up the young woman immediately. Thick, glossy red hair, big tits showcased by a low-cut black top, and heels that made a man fantasize about screwing her wearing nothing but the stilettos.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a rush. “I had car trouble, but Hadley Crane stopped by and jumped me off.”
He bet the man had jumped her. “Who’s Hadley Crane?”
“He’s the gravedigger at the cemetery,” Clarissa said.
“He has some emotional problems,” Miss Trina added.
“Oh, but he’s harmless,” Sadie Sue said with a wicked grin. She glanced at Clarissa and frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“I was worried about you,” Clarissa said.
Sadie Sue rolled her eyes. “You’re just as crazy as your mama and granny. I don’t want you near my son.” She grabbed the baby from Clarissa and clutched him to her chest.
Hurt strained Clarissa’s face, rousing Vincent’s protective instincts, but he refrained from comment.
Clarissa’s premonition had been wrong this time. Sadie Sue hadn’t been missing, hadn’t been attacked by venomous snakes. She had simply been screwing some john.
And just when Vincent was beginning to believe her.
The redhead offered him a tentative smile, and Miss Trina introduced him, her expression changing to interest as she looked him up and down. “I heard there was an agent in town. Didn’t know he looked like you, darlin’.”
Clarissa’s shoulders snapped back as she stood and walked toward the door. “We’re glad you’re all right, Sadie Sue. But next time you might call, especially since three women have died around here in the past few weeks. The sheriff is out hunting for you.”
Her face blanched. “I . . . I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t think . . .”
“Forget it. But do call next time.” Clarissa walked through the door and down the steps to the car.
Vincent headed to the door behind her, but Sadie Sue caught his arm. “I’m really sorry, Agent Valtrez. If you want to stop by the Bare-It-All tonight, I’ll give you a free lap dance to make up for your time.”
He pulled away, heat scalding his neck as he descended the rickety steps and crossed the drive to the car. Sadie Sue was damned attractive and had just offered him an out for his sexual needs. Maybe he’d take her up on her offer.
After all, he needed something to distract him from Clarissa.
Seeing her with the child had disturbed him. He didn’t want to like her, but he couldn’t help but admire those protective motherly instincts she had for another woman’s baby.
What would she do if a child of her own were attacked?
The same thing his mother had done—protect him with her life.
Yes, Clarissa was the type of woman who would want a family, who needed one to be complete. Another reason he couldn’t touch her.
But he could sate his hunger with Sadie Sue tonight at the Bare-It-All. A double whammy—he’d question the bartenders and workers for anyone suspicious, a predator hunting down women.
The sooner he caught this killer, the sooner he could leave this hellhole of a town and forget about Clarissa and his past.
Because the longer he stayed here, the stronger his memories were becoming. The more he thought his father’s spirit was still close by. That evil thrived in this town and wanted to own him, just as it had his father.
And the only way to escape the darkness was to leave this place forever.
Clarissa clenched the door handle, swung it open, and climbed in the car, steam oozing from her pores. How dare Sadie Sue leave her son all night without calling, letting everyone worry. How dare she accuse Clarissa of being crazy.
And how dare she blatantly come on to Vincent in front of her child and Miss Trina.
Not that Clarissa cared if the man got it on with Sadie Sue, but he was here on business. And Sadie Sue was a slut.
Vincent slid into the driver’s seat, started the Land Rover, and headed down the graveled drive without speaking.
She’d been so certain that Sadie Sue had died.
He probably thought she was crazy with her visions of snakes. But the images had been so real, she could still see the rattlesnake’s cold scales, the creature slithering across the woman’s skin. She could still hear her shrill, desperate cry for help.
