Hardass (Bad Bitch) (18 page)

“I know it is. It’s not the sort of man I am. At least it wasn’t. Not until you.” He slid his fingertips down to my collarbone. “Now I’m losing my mind if another man so much as smiles at you.”

Breathing eluded me as his deep gaze swallowed me whole. His touch was light, yet erotic. He moved even closer. All I had to do was push up on my toes and I would taste him again.

A static-filled walkie-talkie blared from the tangle of police cruisers. Wash dropped his hand and backed away, the moment gone. I felt exposed without his body covering mine, without his heat reflecting my own. I stepped away from the car and squared my shoulders.
Get it together.

He ran his hand through his hair, and I suspected he might have had the same thought. If we could both get our shit together, maybe we could actually investigate the crime scene instead of pawing at each other.

“Come on.” He turned and stalked through the row of cars.

I followed, avoiding the muddy potholes and taking his hand as he helped me down a leaf-strewn embankment on the far side of the road. We picked our way through the trees, following the sound of voices.

Up ahead the tributary sparkled in the sunlight and would have reflected the sky had it been clear instead of a muddy brown. The officers had their backs to us as we approached, though a couple gave us questioning glances. Wash seemed to pick out a particular state trooper and beelined for him.

“Toby.” Wash pulled me alongside him, my boots already covered in muck.

The trooper turned around and took both of us in. He looked to be in his forties. His smooth brown skin was marred with a jagged scar along his jaw and down his neck. I wondered what sort of story was behind such a mark. He tipped his wide-brimmed hat at me and smiled warmly at Wash. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy beating up on the local cops. I try not to tangle with the professional trooper types like yourself.”

The trooper laughed. “Buttering me up already? You must be in need of a big favor, my man.”

Wash put his hand on the small of my back. “Toby, this is Caroline, my associate.”

“Hi.” I smiled, though I kept trying to peer around Toby’s impossibly broad chest to see what was going on. All I could catch was the edges of yellow tarps and other officers milling in and out of my line of sight.

“Nice to meet you. Sorry it’s under such awful circumstances.” Toby’s smile faded a bit.

“You know why I’m here. I just want to keep up with my case.” Wash’s easy charm rolled off him like pleasant cologne.

“Last time I let you into a crime scene, Cap chewed my ass for a week straight.”

“Cap was going to chew your ass anyway. Didn’t get your ticket quota. Didn’t press your shirt just right. Didn’t give a good enough reach-around. You know, same old shit.”

Toby shook his head and grinned. “Good to know you’re still a son of a bitch.” He glanced to me. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“No.” I returned his grin. “He is definitely a son of a bitch. Please go on.”

Toby raised his eyebrows and looked to Wash. “This one’s a keeper.”

“I’m aware.” Wash moved his hand lower toward my ass. “Now, back to business. How about you let us just look? I won’t touch anything.”

“How about you, Miss Caroline? You going to touch anything?” Toby winked at me.

“Depends on if I see something I like.” I pretended I was Scarlett O’Hara, total coquette. “You never know with me.”

Wash’s hand moved lower and gripped my ass hard through my jeans.

“I think that answer deserves at least a peek. Come on.” Toby put his arm out, and I took it. He led me through the dozen or so uniformed officers.

Wash followed close behind. I could almost feel his irritation at Toby’s harmless flirting, and I couldn’t stop my smirk.

We were nearly to the front of the crowd when someone called my name. I turned toward the voice and saw Matt Turnbull barreling down the nearest embankment.

Toby glanced to me. “Matt a friend of yours?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

He squeezed my hand in the crook of his elbow. “This should be fun to watch.”

Matt came blustering up, waving his hand around at Wash and me. “You two can’t be here. This is a goddamn crime scene.”

Wash stepped in front of me. “We have every right to be here to defend the interests of our client.”

I moved closer to Toby to get a better view. Some of the other officers turned to watch, though they looked more amused than anything else.

“This is a state investigation. This is my turf. And I want both of you gone.” Matt jabbed a finger at Wash.

Bad idea
.
Wash stepped toward him, but Toby put a quick hand on his shoulder before saying, “You’re right, this is a state investigation. I’m the ranking officer at this crime scene, and unless anyone else would like to say different”—Toby surveyed the silent crowd in blue—“this is under my jurisdiction. So I say they stay, Matt.”

Matt’s eyes bugged a bit, and he put a petulant hand on his hip. “You can’t be serious.”

Toby laughed, but I got the distinct sensation he didn’t find a thing funny. “They’re surrounded by cops. What are they going to do? Take the body and run?”

Matt scowled. “You are compromising this investigation. I’ll take this to your captain, Trooper.”

A few of the officers chuckled. Toby moved to stand next to Wash and took me with him, so I was sandwiched between two large men who wanted to kick Matt’s ass.

“You do that. I’m sure he’ll love to hear some too-big-for-his-britches
Law & Order
wannabe ordering him and his troopers around. Go on and give him a call. See where that gets you.” Toby tipped his hat at Matt and led me back toward the yellow tarp I’d spied earlier.

“This isn’t over, Wash.” Matt dogged our steps.

“No, it isn’t.” Wash’s voice was keyed up, as if he were still looking for a fight. I didn’t blame him. He was always at his best when the tension was at its peak.

Toby pushed through the remaining onlookers. When the last officer cleared out from ahead of me, I stopped in my tracks. Dr. Snider was on his knees, leaning over the victim’s shriveled body. It was half clothed and white like all the others, drained of any blood.

But this one was different. I knew this one. The face was twisted in death, yet still recognizable.

Tyler Graves.

Wash

Caroline and I had spent an hour or so at the crime scene when I decided we’d seen all we could. I’d been itching to get Dr. Snider’s take, especially since my prime suspect just ended up dead—a Bayou Butcher victim right down to the carving in his back and the finger missing past the knuckle.

The only difference was it was a male this time. A break in the series. Serial killers were methodical, choosing victims based on very specific traits. Why would the killer change the pattern?

Once out of the bayou, we stopped at a greasy spoon in the small town near the crime scene and texted Dr. Snider to meet us there.

Caroline slid into the booth and scooted so I could settle in next to her. I put my arm along the seat behind her. I wanted to pull her into my side. Her cheeks were red and her lips almost blue-tinged from the cold. She’d done well at the crime scene. She’d done great, actually. Asking all the right questions and paying close attention to Dr. Snider’s process and the chatter from the officers around her. I was proud of her, though I couldn’t tell her that, of course.

“Rourke. It’s got to be him. I wonder if he’s still at the boardinghouse.” Her mind was whirring.

“Maybe.” I shrugged and inched my hand closer to her shoulder. “We don’t have enough information to go on just yet.”

“But he’s super violent, clearly psychotic, and knew the victim.” She ticked the points off on her fingers.

“Maybe. But we can’t get ahead of ourselves. We need to get the autopsy results, make sure it’s not a copycat killer, speak with Rowan, and then try to speak with Rourke.”

She nodded, then gave me a wide-eyed look. “Let’s take guns when we go back to see that guy.”

I laughed. “We’ll go together. I’m not worried. You can protect me.”

She smiled and stared up at me. I glanced to her mouth, desperate to taste her. Her cheeks grew even pinker, and she darted her tongue out to wet her lips.
Fuck.
I wanted to kiss her, the restaurant be damned.

I leaned closer, but movement outside caught my eye. A black-and-white turned off the highway, pulling up out front and dropping Dr. Snider off. Caroline dropped her gaze, the moment gone, and waved to him as he entered.

I took a deep breath.
Focus on the case.

Dr. Snider hurried over and plopped down across from us.

We ordered from a harried waitress. The moment she was gone, I lowered my voice. “Spill, Doc.”

He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Definitely a Butcher victim. Everything is too dead-on—pardon the pun—to be a copycat killer. Bloodletting, carving, finger missing. All of it matches. It’s him. But he messed up this time. He’d weighted the body down with cement blocks, but the rope didn’t hold. That’s the only reason the body was found so quickly this time.”

“Does that mean you might be able to gather more evidence?”

Dr. Snider shrugged. “Maybe. The wounds are definitely fresher. This guy wasn’t killed months ago.”

“But when? Rowan’s been locked up for a month. If we can prove he was in jail when Tyler was killed, then this could be his ticket to freedom.” Caroline placed both pale hands around her hot cup of coffee, no doubt to steal some of its warmth. I resolved to buy her a nice pair of gloves.

“Maybe, but time of death is difficult on bodies that have been submerged.” He shrugged. “I could guess, but that’s all it would be. A guess.”

“Guess for me, Doc,” I said. Tyler’s death could either blow the State’s case against Rowan to pieces or add another number to Rowan’s body count.

“Given the colder weather, the possible time submerged, the decay?” Dr. Snider drummed his fingers on the weathered tabletop. “No more than a month. Could be even less.”

Caroline leaned forward. “Will you testify to that? To less than a month?”

Her instincts were perfect. A natural.

“I will. Yes. I’m not one hundred percent, mind you. But it could definitely have happened while Rowan’s been under arrest. But, then again, could have been slightly before.”

The waitress returned, her arms laden with plates. Once she’d retreated behind the high bar again, we resumed our conversation.

“Anything else? What did the cops say?”

“Not much. A fisherman and his kid found the body and called the troopers. Troopers weren’t sure if it was another Bayou Butcher case, given that the victim was a male this time.” He stuffed a huge chunk of waffle into his mouth.

“Who’s doing the autopsy?” Caroline asked. She was eating well, seemingly not as creeped out by the crime scene as I worried she’d be. Her head was in the game.

Dr. Snider raised his fork and waved it around.

I smiled and bit into a slice of crisp bacon. “Perfect. When?”

“Turnbull decreed tomorrow morning, nine o’clock sharp.”

“Think you can pinpoint time of death any better once you get Tyler on the table?” I asked.

“Only one way to find out.”

“Oh, shit.” Caroline swallowed hard.

“What?”

“Do you think the troopers told Luke yet?” She put her fork down and clasped her hands in her lap before turning her big brown eyes up to me. “He’s such a nice guy. I’d hate for him to hear about it from Turnbull or someone even worse.”

“No, Toby probably won’t notify next of kin until he gets a more conclusive ID on the body. We only recognized him from a picture, and his body’s been through a lot.” I was certain it was Tyler, too, but I wasn’t sure how quickly I wanted that information to get out. Timing it for Rowan’s benefit, one way or another, was my only goal.

Dr. Snider scooped up some buttery grits and spilled a bit down his shirt. “Not notified yet. Toby asked me for a better ID. That’s right.”

“Well, I’m ninety-nine percent positive it’s him.” She picked her fork back up and toyed with her half-eaten scrambled eggs. Then she stopped and peered at Dr. Snider, who was cramming a piece of jelly toast in his mouth. “Won’t you need Luke to come and try to ID the body?”

Dr. Snider nodded, but his mouth was too full to properly respond.

She kept getting one step ahead of Dr. Snider—and, I had to admit, even me. Controlling information was key at this point.

I squeezed her shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right. He’ll know soon enough anyway. Doc, text Toby, would you, and tell him your office is handling the notification pending identification. That’ll keep the ball in our court. E-mail me one of the pics you took of his face, and Caroline and I will drop by and see Luke this afternoon. Get the ID that way so he doesn’t have to see the body.”

“Can do.”

“Good.” She began eating again. “That way we can be kind in telling him and possibly solidify him as an ally for Rowan.”

I canted my head at her. Her instincts were a mix of kindness and strategy.

She shrugged and gave me an innocent smile. “What?”

I grinned. I couldn’t help it. Her deviousness rivaled my own, and I wanted to see more of her, more of what went on in that clever mind of hers.

She stared at me, her gaze traveling my face as color rose in her cheeks, painting them even redder than before. My chest expanded, as if there were suddenly more warmth, more space inside. I wished we were somewhere in private, somewhere I could show her how I felt.

Dr. Snider’s less-than-stellar table manners were a reminder that we were, in fact, not in private. He slurped his coffee.

Caroline’s sparkling gaze darkened for a split second, and then she broke our eye contact and sipped her coffee.
What just happened?

“So, what’s our next step?” she asked.

The urge to get her to myself, to ask her what she was thinking, verged on overwhelming. I forced myself to settle down. Dr. Snider was an important piece of our defense, and the next forty-eight hours could prove pivotal for the entire case.

“We need to visit Rowan. Can’t talk about this over the phone. Too many ears listening in on the conversations at Angola.”

“Can we go now?”

I checked my watch. “No, too late. They wouldn’t let us in with such short notice. Tomorrow morning at the soonest.”

Caroline fidgeted a bit and stared at the highway outside the window. “We should divide and conquer, then. I’ll take the autopsy, and you go to Angola.”

Fuck
.
She was right. We needed information as soon as possible, and I couldn’t be in two places at once. “Are you sure you can handle an autopsy?”

Dr. Snider finished his breakfast with gusto, downing the last of his orange juice and eyeing the half-eaten food on Caroline’s plate. He grabbed a piece of her toast. “It won’t be too bad. All the blood’s already gone.”

Caroline grimaced but straightened her back. “I’ll be fine. I’m sort of getting the hang of this whole dead body thing.”

“I don’t like it.” I tossed my napkin on the table. “You shouldn’t be going alone.”

Though we’d only been working the case together for a couple of weeks, I’d spent the entire time with her. I didn’t want to separate. Talking to Rowan about Tyler as soon as possible was imperative, but attending the autopsy to gather facts and keep an eye on Turnbull was just as important. Still, there had to be a way for me to attend the autopsy with her.

“I can handle myself, Wash. You don’t have to babysit me for the whole case.” She crossed her arms.

“It’s not that. It’s just—”

“What?” She glared at me.

I narrowed my eyes. “If you’d let me fini—”

“We need to talk to Rowan, right?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, but—”

“We need to keep an eye on Turnbull, right?”

I sighed. She was crossing me. I was letting an associate cross me. I shook my head but couldn’t stifle my smile. “Yes.”

“You can’t do both at the same time, can you?”

“No.”

“You didn’t get magical powers of omnipresence last night, did you?”

“No.”

“Then it’s settled. We’re going to divide and conquer tomorrow morning.”

I gave up. She was right, so there was no point arguing. “Fine. Doc, stick to the plan. Keep it under wraps that we’ve retained you. We’ll play that card in pretrial briefing, not a second before. Got it?”

“Sure.” He speared a piece of Caroline’s bacon. “Got it.”

After Dr. Snider finished off my waffle, we paid our tab. On the way out, I pulled Caroline aside as our hungry friend excused himself to the restroom.

“Look. I know you can handle yourself.”

She opened her mouth to protest but seemed to finally hear me and changed her mind. I studied her eyes, the line of her nose, the perfect bow of her lips. The early afternoon sun played along her blond locks, giving them a golden glow.

I tipped her chin up. “But there is one thing.”

“What’s that?” Her tone was surly, but I could tell she was trying to fight off a smile.

“Most juries are educated at an eighth-grade level, on average. You would have lost them at ‘omnipresence,’”

She made a “grr” noise like a bear and dug her fingers into my ribs. I laughed and backed into the parking lot. She followed, giggling. I rushed her and wrapped her in my arms. Before I could kiss her the way I’d been dying to, Dr. Snider opened the creaking door.

I released Caroline, who gave me a sly smile. I wanted to kiss it off her face and make her breathless. But duty called.

If Dr. Snider had seen our little display, he didn’t let on. “Ready to head back to town?” He held up a to-go box. “I got a slice of pie for the road.”

I opened the door for Caroline and watched as her luscious ass slid down into the seat. I bent over and whispered in her ear, “This isn’t over, Ms. Montreat.”

She smirked up at me, challenge written in her every move. “You’re right about that, Mr. Granade.”