The older, red-faced detective took in a breath, then sighed. “He’s had a few IA cases. The usual bullshit about use of force we had to clear. No problem there.”
“But?”
“He had a domestic that was a little ugly.”
“What happened to him?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean ‘nothing'?”
“I mean his girlfriend at the time clammed up, then changed her story. There were other factors, so we had to shit-can the investigation.”
“But you remember this guy from that?”
He leveled his brown, bloodshot eyes at Stallings and said, “Stall, think about it. If I remember this guy, the incident was ugly.”
He felt his erection stiffen as Holly wiggled in his lap, kissing him and nibbling his ear. The flashlight cast an errant beam against a bare wall. He was as excited at the prospect of what he was going to do to claim his kill as he was by the sexual activity. The longer this went on, the more he considered using the knife just as he had in New Orleans a few years ago. This time he decided he wanted to face her, looking into the beautiful blue eyes when he jammed the blade into her soft neck. He wondered if her eyes would pop open or slam shut when he did it. But first he had to slip his dick into her.
He twisted and laid her down on the couch, so he could be on top of her. He slid one hand under her blouse and felt her small breast with an erect nipple in the palm of his hand.
Holly giggled and slid away from him, then sat up on the arm of the couch. “You’ve got naughty thoughts.” Her smile was broad and inviting.
He said, “You have no idea.” His eyes kept staring at the nose stud he wanted for his souvenir case. The tiny, clear stone picking up the beam of the flashlight.
Holly said, “Oh, yeah? What do you want to do to me?”
“Get wild. What about you? What do you want to do to me?”
She paused, placed her small hand on his sleeve, and said, “You know what I’d really like to do?”
“No, what?” He felt for the knife in his pocket.
“I would love to eat you.” Then she let out a laugh, jumped up, and darted to the far side of the room. “But first you have to catch me.”
He started to stand, wondering if he might try killing her first.
Holly said, “Count to three, then chase me. But my advantage is that I know this old house a lot better than you.”
He said, “One, two, three,” in a blur, then sprang up after her as she sprinted off in a wild fit of laughter. She had no idea how short her future was.
It was time to take the evening up a notch. In the blink of an eye, Holly shed her bookworm persona and decided it was time to be a stripper. In her mind she felt like a superhero as she whipped off her glasses and shook out her hair. She added a subtle, sexy sway to her walk and then slid into his lap like a stripper getting paid for a lap dance. She immediately felt his reaction and transferred it to her as excitement. It was like electricity, and she couldn’t keep from kissing him deep and hard. She felt her tongue up against his and let it explore his mouth. It was almost as if she was tasting his essence from the outside.
She felt his erection grow, as well as the pace of his petting and rubbing. The intensity of his kisses grew as he used his tongue to taste her as well. She had to be careful or this would be over too soon. She didn’t want to put the brakes on too hard and break the mood. She liked the effect she was having and decided to add the role of stripper to her repertoire. It was certainly a lot more fun than the bookworm. She’d never been to a strip club and only seen the idealized versions of dancers in movies where they all had big boobs and rhythm and aspired to be showgirls in Las Vegas. She suspected that was a lie. The strip clubs she saw in Jacksonville were not nearly as glamorous and the girls not nearly as talented. Still it wouldn’t hurt to go to one and hone her own ability. That would give her five distinct personalities she could use: bookworm, stupid barista, stripper, underage babysitter, and track star at the University of North Florida. She had the body for it and was fast for short distances. She doubted anyone would ever test her beyond that.
As much fun as grinding on his lap was that she had to put an end to this and find another way to keep him interested. Then she thought of the rabbit and the fox. She’d run and see if he could chase her. The only question was who was the rabbit and who was the fox?
Tony Mazzetti felt his body sag as a breeze kicked in from the eastern part of the county. The quieter zone, closer to the ocean. Right now he was near the stadium outside a small house with three bodies and about fifty bullet holes in it. He and his partner, Christina Hogrebe, had been called out an hour ago when reports of gunfire started rolling into the communications center and responding patrol officers found the bodies. It took Mazzetti about thirty seconds to figure out it was a drug rip. The three bodies were all members of a street gang called Street Cred that dealt crack in this area of the city. Someone had entered the house, shot them each in the head, then sprayed the house with nine-millimeter bullets on the way out. The way the victims were close together and didn’t defend themselves made it seem as if they knew the killer.
Now the trick would be finding whom they owed money to, had crossed in a deal, or were fighting for territory. Not the most complicated whodunit in the world, but certainly one he’d be able to clear to keep his record looking good. In these drug rip-offs someone always bragged about it and wanted people to know who did it so they would get the message and no one else would have to be killed. The problem with that theory was that the cops found out at the same time. With snitches in every neighborhood and rewards coaxing residents out of silence, nothing said on the street stayed quiet for very long. Not in Jacksonville or any other city in the country.
A teenage girl had been in the house at the time of the shooting. The mother and another daughter were only a couple of houses away, visiting a family member. One of the victims was her twenty-two-year-old son. The older daughter, Tosha, had seen a car drive by, but she had already changed her story from black males to Hispanic males. He didn’t know if she was naturally a little flaky or stoned, but she was a mess. No one would admit there were guns in the house. He made a quick search and couldn’t find any. But the three victims were all known dealers and all had a history of gun violence. Had the killers taken the guns?
He finished up some notes on who needed to be interviewed immediately when the new sergeant, Yvonne Zuni, strolled over from the edge of the scene.
She said, “You gonna need some extra detectives?”
“I think me and Hoagie can handle it.”
“What about your other cases?”
“We’re still waiting on the lab results on the suicide and the girl that overdosed on X, Allie Marsh. The files are on my desk, and they can sit till we sort this shit out.”
The sergeant shook her head. “We’ll leave Marsh open. There are other considerations there. I’ll let Stall and Patty run with it. They’re already trying to find who gave her the X.”
Normally Mazzetti would’ve raised hell about losing one of his cases to anyone, especially Stallings. But this shooting would be all over the news and a major case. No one but her mother cared much about the Marsh girl.
The sergeant focused those beautiful eyes on him and said, “I want this solved with arrests as soon as possible. Am I understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He could see where she got the nickname Yvonne the Terrible. She’d just scared the crap out of him.
He watched as Holly scampered up the old, creaky, wooden stairs and smiled as he followed at a slower pace. He liked her little game because the longer it went on, the more excited he became. Like a drug, he had found he needed more stimuli to reach the same level of satisfaction. That was one of the reasons he’d picked up the pace of his hunts recently.
At the top of the stairs he caught her cute butt, in tight shorts, as it disappeared into a room at the end of a long hallway. The solid wooden door slammed shut behind her, cutting off a squeal. She was enjoying this as much as he was.
He paused outside the door, confident that there was no other exit and figuring that she intended him to come into this room because it had a bed or maybe a window for some fresh night air. He thought about pulling his
