She laughed. “Come on in, you can help me finish cooking dinner.”
THE FAMILY ROOM FIREPLACE was crackling, lit candles were flickering, and the smell of a merlot-based tomato basil reduction sauce filled the entire house. Vail removed the garlic bread from the oven while Robby drained the linguini noodles.
And they were already on their second glass of champagne.
Vail swiveled her head. “You know, I had some paperwork from the hospital somewhere, but I can’t find it. I’ve looked high and low and everywhere in between. Everywhere and in between,” she said, drawing out the last word.
Robby smiled. “Maybe it said not to mix alcohol and pain pills before surgery.”
She could feel a slight bead of perspiration on her forehead, her movements free and a bit easier than usual. The alcohol had hit her bloodstream.
“No shit, Sherlock. I know that, but Bledsoe told me to take my pain meds, codeine, can you believe that? I’d be, like, totally flying now if I’d done that. Codeine and alcohol. You know what that would’ve done to me? Can you believe how that would feel? I’d be, like, shit-faced right now.”
Robby placed his fingers on her lips and smiled. “Shh . . . I don’t know if I should tell you this, but you’re already shit-faced.”
“Not me. Not after only two glasses of champagne.”
“You’re a lightweight, Vail. I’m in total control of you.”
She pulled him close. “And what are you going to do with this control, you detective agent Rob-me Horny- andez?”
He pulled her from her chair and carried her out of the dining room into the adjacent living room, where he laid her on the couch. “I’m going to take advantage of you.”
“Oh, should I call a cop?”
“What’s a cop going to do about it, help us cop-ulate?” He chuckled.
She giggled.
“Maybe he’ll use these,” he said, pulling the handcuffs from his back pocket. But they dropped harmlessly to the floor as he leaned into her and planted a long kiss on her lips. She wormed her arms around his neck and held him close, continuing the kiss, the alcohol melting away the stresses of recent weeks. No, it wasn’t the alcohol, she suddenly realized as he unbuttoned her blouse. It was passion. Love. The release of letting oneself go so completely without fear of total consumption.
They made love over the next hour, the candles flickering above them, hearts fluttering within them. Warm bodies and hot breaths forging a union she had been yearning for all her life, but never had found. Until now.
They lay on the floor in each other’s arms, the fire dying out and the cool air chilling their naked bodies. She drew a throw blanket around her while Robby crawled to the coffee table, where he then peeled away the smooth, red wax sealing the bottle of madeira. He poured a glass for her, then for himself, and they both drank simultaneously. “Ooh, this is good,” Vail said. “Really good.” She instantly felt the rush as the brandy-infused wine slid down her throat.
“I’ll have to thank my friend—”
He was interrupted by the warble of his cell. Vail’s went off a second later. They shared a confused glance, then Robby rose to retrieve his phone. He helped Vail to her feet, but she let out a loud cry and crumpled in his arms. “My knee. Shit. I shouldn’t have been sitting on the floor like that. It’s locked. Shit.”
“I’ll get you some ice.” He carried her into the kitchen and set her down on a stool.
“There’s a gel pack in the freezer.”
He wrapped the pack in a paper towel, then handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She nodded toward the coffee table, where his cell sat. “Who’s it from?”
Robby made his way back to the family room. She watched his butt move as he walked, a pleasing sight that seemed to ease the pain a bit. But maybe it was just the freeze from the ice.
He lifted the phone and checked the display. He looked at Vail, his face turning pale, his eyes conveying confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
“Text from Bledsoe. Dead Eyes code.”
She sat there on the stool, fighting through her alcohol haze to process the meaning of this. Finally, she managed, “Can’t be.” Vail reached for the phone and dialed Bledsoe. He answered on the second ring. “Bledsoe, what’s—”
“All I know is first cop on the scene said it looks like a Dead Eyes job. I asked him, is the left hand severed, he said no. I asked if there was any writing in blood on the walls, he said no.”
“You’re thinking copycat?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. I’m in my car. Meet me there ASAP.”
She hung up and relayed the info to Robby, who had already gotten dressed. He was strapping on his shoulder holster, when she threw the ice aside and announced she was going to go with him.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve got surgery in the morning. Besides, you can’t even put weight on the leg. Stay here, ice the knee. I’ll call you as soon as I get there, walk you through the scene. I’ll take some photos and video and you can review it all as soon as I get back.”
“You okay to drive?”
“Hey, you’re the lightweight. I’m fine.”
“I hate being like this. I need to go and do, not sit around. I can’t just stay here.”
He shrugged on his wool overcoat and gave her a long kiss, then pulled away. “I’ll call you as soon as I look over the scene.” She grabbed his hand as he turned to leave. He looked at her over his shoulder. “I love you, Hernandez. Be careful.”
Bledsoe was the first of the task force members to arrive. He relieved the patrol officer, who had responded to the call and roped off the surrounding area with yellow crime scene tape.
“Lights were off inside,” the cop said. “I used my flashlight, didn’t touch anything. I even put the bedroom door back the way it was when I walked in.”
“Good,” Bledsoe said.
“My partner’s canvassing. He radioed in a few minutes ago. Nothing to report.”
“Who discovered the body?”
“Neighbor. But 911 didn’t get a name. They’re analyzing the tape now. It was a short call, sounded garbled like it came from a cell phone. They gave the address, said they were a neighbor, and then the signal dropped and we lost the call.”
“Male? Female?”
“Operator thought it was male, but wouldn’t swear to it.”
“What do we know about the vic?”
“Place is registered to a Laura Mackey. DOB 5-9-69. Dark brown hair, best I could tell with my flashlight. Looked like someone did a chop job on her hair, though.”
A chill bolted up Bledsoe’s spine. He nodded, then turned toward the front door.
“It’s bad, sir. Real bad. Be perfectly honest, I had to come outside and get a breath of air before I called you. Felt like throwing up.”
“I know the feeling.” Bledsoe patted his pocket, felt the air sickness bag, and said, “Okay, take your position. No one through except the task force. Forensics should be here soon.” As Bledsoe turned away from the cop, Robby and Manette pulled up to the curb. He waited for them at the front door.
“Sinclair and Del Monaco are on their way,” Bledsoe told them. He produced a bunch of latex gloves from his pocket and handed them out.
“Karen’s not coming,” Robby said, wiggling his left hand into the glove and snapping the rubber to position the fingers properly. “Knee’s real bad. She can’t even stand.”
Bledsoe looked up from his gloves. “Shit. I was really hoping she could give us some insight as to what the
