The Tease (The Darling Killer Trilogy) (21 page)

“Wait,” I said, putting a hand on his arm as everything flooded back. Tish’s body. Tish kissing Kevin. Lisa. Detective Brack’s cold accusations. Max, the client I’d failed. Grant’s arm was warm, solid, anchoring me to the moment. “It’s ok. It’s… nice. We’re friends, right?”

“Of course,” he said, searching my face.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I said. “Please just stay.”

The tension in his arm relaxed. “As long as you want,” he said.

I lay back down and he curled around me, his arm around my waist again. I leaned back into his body, feeling the rise and fall of his breath behind me.

It felt natural.

I felt safe.

Within moments, I drifted off to sleep again.

• • •

The smell of bacon and coffee greeted my nose, and before I opened my eyes, the sizzle of bacon frying and the gurgle of my coffeemaker entered my awareness. I opened my eyes and sunlight spilled over the bed. I stretched and turned over.

Damn
. 12:38. I haven’t slept that long since… since I couldn’t remember.

I walked into the bathroom, splashed some water on my face, and rinsed the old toothpaste flavor out of my mouth. I grimaced at the state of my hair and brushed it without much optimism before walking down the hall.

I turned the corner to see Grant in my galley kitchen; barefoot, still in his sweats, hair pulled neatly back. A red bell pepper, a bulb of garlic, and an orange sat on the cutting board; eggs and cheese sat on the counter next to it.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling. His teeth were so straight and white. I loved his smile. I always had.

“Good morning,” I replied. “You made coffee?”

“I did,” he said.

I poured myself a mug. “You’re the most wonderful person in the world.”

“Your kitchen is laid out very sensibly,” he said. “It’s easy to find everything.”

That made me inexplicably happy. “It’s so nice of you.”

“I thought I’d make breakfast to thank you for letting me crash here.”

“Thank
me
?” I said. “I should thank you for making sure I got home ok. I was in rough shape.”

“I know,” he said.

“You really don’t have to do all this,” I said. I took a sip of the coffee. It was heavenly.

“I know that,” he said. He used kitchen tongs to move the bacon around the pan. I’d never seen that before. I’d always used a spatula, which got grease all over me when I flipped it. “You take care of everyone else,” he continued. “People came to you to see what to do when Tish wasn’t looking. People go to you for advice. You even take care of other people for a living. Maybe it’s your turn now. Let someone take care of you.”

I set down the coffee mug and hugged him.

His body froze for a moment, and then I heard the clatter of tongs on the counter as he dropped them to put his arms around me. He lifted my chin and kissed me.

My body thrilled. He kissed me warmly, deeply, his fingertips curling in my hair at the nape of my neck.

It felt natural.

I felt safe.

I don’t know how long I just fell into the kiss before our lips separated gently once, twice, and then he rested his jaw on top of my head, holding me close.

“Still friends?” he asked, with a shaky chuckle.

“Nope,” I said, and kissed him again.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, lifted me up, and spun once in a tight circle. “This is awesome,” he said. I couldn’t see his face because his forehead rested against mine and my eyes were closed, but I could hear the grin in his voice.

“Mm hmm,” I agreed.

He set me down and glanced at the stove. “How about I
don’t
start the day by burning your apartment down?” he said.

“That would be nice,” I said.

He kissed the tip of my nose. I reluctantly let go of him, picked up the coffee mug, and leaned against the counter so the murder board wasn’t even in my peripheral vision.

“I, um,” he said, as he turned the bacon again. “I wasn’t expecting that at all.”

“Me either,” I said.

“Not that I mind,” he said. “I’ve always really liked you.”

My heart fluttered. “I’ve always really liked you, too.”

“I never said anything because of the show,” he said. “I didn’t want it to be awkward if I said something and you didn’t…”

“But I do.”

He beamed, then looked back down at the pan. “I hope you like your bacon crispy.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, sipping my coffee and enjoying a glowing sensation in my body.

Of course. It’s an escape from the pain about Kevin and Tish and when the body is aroused by fear it reacts to the threat of death by affirming life with the nearest partner—

I resolutely stuffed the thought away. I’d been attracted to Grant since we met. If the timing wasn’t great, well, too bad. The right person doesn’t always show up at the right time.

But if a client said that to you—

No.
I’d known Grant for over a year. I trusted him. I felt like I knew what I was getting into.
I am not analyzing myself. Just today, just once, just let me feel something without thinking it to death.

My phone beeped. I ignored it. I watched him move around the kitchen, his movements efficient and graceful.

My phone beeped again.

“I’m going to go turn that off,” I said.

I headed over to my purse, pulled out my phone, and swore. I had missed fifty-seven calls, and three text messages awaited me.

One was from Jeff.

I thought you had the day off already for the exam?

it said.

One was from Monica.

Sweetie r u watching the news? U ok?

The last was from my dad.

Please call when you can.

My stomach twisted. I headed to the TV and switched to one of the network stations.

The picture hummed into life with an image of me outside the theater in my Very Recognizeable Overcoat. A chaos of microphones and shouting reporters framed the image, probably from across the street. Uniformed officers were holding their hands up in the universal gesture of
stay back
. I was getting into a squad car, followed by Grant,
Breaking News
, announced a yellow text ribbon at, “…was questioned early this morning after another murder at the Cat’s Meow theater,” a female reporter’s voice announced. The camera cut to a performance shot of the Chicago Cabaret during one of our troupe numbers. I was center stage, laughing, strutting across the stage in a glittery red corset and fishnet stockings, with a black feather boa wrapped around my shoulders. “The police Office of News Affairs issued a press release this morning, stating that they have questioned witnesses, but have not filed charges against anyone yet.”

The next shot showed the reporter standing across the street from the police station, talking into a microphone, her orange hair coiffed neatly around her artfully concerned face. I couldn’t hear another word she said.

The worst is happening
, I thought.
The worst is happening now.
Jeff must know. My dad must know. The clinical exam was already over; fifteen hundred dollars down the drain. And I’d be a laughingstock professionally: the stripper therapist.

Grant walked over and sat next to me, putting an arm around my shoulder. I leaned into him.

“My life is over,” I said.

“It’s not over,” Grant said.

I gestured at the TV screen.

“You can sue them,” he said. “For defamation of character.”

“I can’t sue them for showing a real photo,” I said. “It’s on the Chicago Cabaret website.” Which has a much, much smaller audience than the network news.

“Did they really let him go?” Grant asked.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I’m going to call and find out what I can.”

He nodded and kissed my cheek.

I called Detective Santiago. I wanted to freak out about my photo splashing all over the news, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. “Detective, what’s going on?” I asked instead. “I thought you had him.”

“Miss Zendel, I can’t say too much,” he said. “But we couldn’t hold him.”

“How is the stocking not enough evidence?” I asked. Grant squeezed my hand in his.

“He had an alibi.”

“But the stocking was in his jacket,” I said.

“
A
stocking was in his pocket,” he said. “It could’ve come from anywhere. Stockings don’t fingerprint. He has a good attorney, and the DNA could take weeks.”

“I thought you had him,” I said miserably. “I thought it was over.”
I just ruined this guy’s faith in therapy and he didn’t even do it—

“Miss Zendel,” he said, “this is important. Have you dated anyone other than Kevin Haynes in the past six months to a year?”

“No,” I said.

“Has anyone asked you out?”

I just made out with a guy in my kitchen, but you’ve already questioned him twice
. “No,” I said. “I know, it’s pretty sad.”

“You need to be very, very careful,” he said. “I’m serious.”

“I will,” I said, and got off the phone.

“What happened?” Grant brushed my hair out of my eyes. Up close and in daylight, his eyes weren’t solid brown. They were a muddy hazel, hints of green and gold in a band of dark brown.

“The killer is still out there—” I started shaking.

He put his arms around me. “He’ll have to get through me first,” he said. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

I welcomed his warm body, his strong arms. “Thank you,” I said.

“C’mon,” he said, leading me back towards the kitchen. “We’ll have breakfast and figure out what to do.”

I followed him, setting my phone on the table with numb fingers. “He knows where I live,” I said.

“He’s known where you live for weeks,” he pointed out.

“That’s true,” I said. “You’re being awfully reasonable.”

He shrugged. “I’ve never been good at worrying.”

Yikes. Two people in a relationship who can compartmentalize. What if—

I shoved the thought away. “I just completely blew my clinical exam,” I said.

“Won’t they let you reschedule it?” he asked. “You just saw a murder last night. You must be able to say extreme circumstances.”

I stopped myself from arguing.
Men are fixers. It’s okay. Let him be who he is.

“You can stay with me,” Grant said, opening the carton and taking out an egg. “I’ll make you breakfast every morning.”

“I’d be late for work,” I said, smiling in spite of myself. “If I still have a job.”

“Not if we’re on the road,” he said. He picked up the garlic clove and pepper and started juggling them with the egg. “We’ll join the Vaudeville revival. No one can catch us if we’re a travelling act.”

I laughed. He was calming me down. He was just what I needed.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, snatching the egg, garlic, and pepper out of the air and setting them on the counter. “I already ran that guy off once.”

“That’s true,” I said, feeling that warm glow as I remembered the way he stood up to Max outside the theater.

He tossed the egg behind his back and caught it. His hands were so deft, so quick. I grinned, remembering the way he unhooked my bra so easily.

Sleight of hand
, I thought, and my stomach bottomed out.

When he shoved Max at the theater… he put the stocking in the jacket pocket.

No. No way could Grant hurt anyone. He found Lisa’s body with me… and Tish’s… he was so sickened…

He was at every crime scene.

He had control of how the bodies were discovered.

He relished my reaction.

For God’s sake, I told him they couldn’t hold Max, and he’s juggling. He’s not scared at all.

He knows he doesn’t need to be.

“Velvet?” he said, looking puzzled. “Beautiful, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. Detective Brack’s accusation echoed through my mind:
That sounds like a pattern to me.

“You had the oddest look on your face,” he said, crossing the room and holding his arms out for me. “What is it?”

Panic took over. I bolted.

He grabbed me from behind, wrapping his arm around my waist and yanking me back against his body. He wrapped his arms over me, pinning mine. I struggled, but he was taller and stronger.

“What has gotten into you?” he whispered into my ear.

I couldn’t help myself. I started to shriek, and he clapped a hand over my mouth.

“Please don’t do that,” he said, a chilling note in his soft voice. I nodded, and he took his hand away. “We were having such a perfect morning. What are you doing?”

Perfect he likes things to be perfect—
My breath came in short, shallow bursts. “Please don’t kill me,” was all I could think to say.

“Don’t… kill you?” he asked. “I would never – how could you say that?”

I shuddered. “Lisa,” I whispered.

He sighed, his head relaxing against mine. “That was an accident.”

I whimpered and struggled again. He held my arms close to my body, whispering “Shhh, shhh, shhh,” until I stopped. The adrenaline coursed through my body and spilled into tears.

“It was just an accident,” he said. “That’s all.”

“How can something like that be an accident?”

He nuzzled my neck. I grimaced, turning my face away.
His other hand creeping toward my throat his arm was too heavy around my waist and it was going to hurt—

“I thought she liked me,” he said. “So I kissed her, and she…,” his arm tightened around my waist. “
She laughed.
”

“You’re hurting me,” I said.

“I’m sorry.” His arm relaxed fractionally.

Good. He doesn’t want to do this.
My mind raced through my options. He was bigger than I was, and stronger. I didn’t have much going for me. I was a flexible dancer, but only marginally more graceful. I certainly couldn’t overpower him.
Damn. Why did I do yoga instead of martial arts?

Yoga.

I was trained to make my body relax. Maybe I could catch him off guard.

I focused on my breath, on letting my muscles go slack, as if I was melting back into him. His arms softened a little and he nuzzled my neck again. I steeled myself to let him.