Kim glanced at Detective Cavanah, then back at her best friend. Her smile came slowly. “Uh huh.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Yes,
Thomas,
” she said breathily, giving a dramatically sensual imitation of how Nikki had said his name.
Nikki frowned. “I didn’t say it like that, brat,” she muttered. She felt her cheeks growing hot under the
yeah-right
look Kim threw her way. “Oh, stop it.” She decided to ignore her for the time being. “So Megan,” she said, turning her attention to the beautiful woman in her early fifties who was standing behind Kim. “How’s your mean daughter been treating you?” she said on a wink. She ignored Kim’s sigh.
Megan Cox was and always had been a classic beauty that age never managed to get the upper hand over. At fifty-three, her blue eyes were lined with a couple of crinkles at the corners and her face had a mature, sculpted look to it, but she was still as beautiful as ever. Perhaps more so.
Kim’s stepmother had married Roger Cox three days shy of her thirty-fourth birthday, putting her stepdaughter at fifteen at the time. Tall, blonde, tan, and statuesque, Megan had made for the perfect trophy wife. Her personality, unlike Kim’s, had always been on the quiet, demure side. Megan had never had an easy time of standing up to Roger Cox, so five years later she took to alcohol for comfort instead.
Kim, Nikki knew, had loved her father dearly. And yet she had also hated him. Roger had been a true asshole in every sense of the word. From cheating on Megan, to verbally abusing Kim whenever something inane set him off, to leaving his family alone on the holidays so he wouldn’t have to be bothered by them—he’d done it all and then some.
Nikki had always wondered at the animosity Kim harbored toward Megan over the years. She supposed it probably had something to do with Megan’s inability to put Roger in his place—something the young Kim had probably hoped for when the couple had first married. What Kim seemed unable to accept was the fact that nobody could have put Roger Cox in his place. If he didn’t like something, he removed it from his life as though it had never been—a fact of which Megan had no doubt been aware.
“She’s treating me just fine,” Megan said in a quiet, demure voice. She smiled sweetly down to Nikki. “How are you feeling, honey?”
Nikki was given no time to answer the question, for Kim was growling before she could even open her mouth.
“I’ve been treating you like shit,” Kim snapped, causing Megan to blush. Nikki frowned, the urge to swat her best friend a good one barely controlled. “When someone is treating you like shit, Megan, you don’t tell the world they are treating you kindly.”
“Kim,” Nikki murmured. “That’s enough.”
“Would you quit protecting her?” Kim screeched, causing a few heads, Thomas’s included, to turn.
Nikki’s nostrils flared. “Would you quit acting like a spoiled little bitch!” she snapped, her voice kept low. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Kim closed her eyes briefly, sighing. “I’m sorry.” She sighed again. “You, too, Megan. I’m sorry.”
Megan’s blue eyes went so wide Nikki became convinced it was the first kindness Kim had shown to her stepmother since she’d arrived.
“It’s okay,” Megan whispered. She smiled, a bit unsure of herself. “Kimmie has been under a great deal of stress worrying about you, Nikki.”
“And then you defend me,” Kim muttered. She sighed, throwing up her hands.
Nikki shot Kim a scathing look. She had always liked Megan, regardless of everything. She might have had a drinking problem in the past, but a more loyal person didn’t exist. When the chips were down, Megan Cox could be counted on. Her presence might have irritated Kim, but it gave Nikki security in knowing that Kim was being watched over when Nikki couldn’t be there to do so herself.
“I guess both of you are about to be put under a great deal more. Unfortunately, I have to agree that I can no longer stay here. Not until Richard is caught.”
Kim smiled, momentarily forgetting her one-sided argument with her stepmother. “Hey,” she said softly, “it’ll be just like Cambridge. We’ll have a blast.”
“Are you sure you are up to this, Kim?” Nikki shook her head as she glanced at her. “This is serious stuff, babe. I’m not staying with you while my house is painted or something innocuous like that. I’m staying with you because a sadistic serial killer is trying to hunt me down. A serial killer! Things could get ugly. Maybe I should go somewhere else.”
“I’m well aware of what could happen,” Kim said quietly, but firmly. “And no way am I letting you go someplace else.”
“I’ve already taken the liberty of hiring around-the-clock security at the house,” Megan said in that small, breathy tone of hers. “Plus, there will always be officers in and out. We’ll be fine.”
Kim’s eyebrows shot up. “How generous of you to spend my money for me,” she said sarcastically. “Not that I wouldn’t have done the same thing,” she quickly assured Nikki.
“I used my own money, Kimberly,” Megan said, the color in her cheeks rising. “I don’t use people,” she added pointedly. “I’m not your father.”
Well, score one for the Megan-meister, Nikki thought, amused. She’d finally stood up to her stepdaughter. Apparently that hadn’t been lost on said stepdaughter, either, for Nikki saw a glimmer of something—respect, maybe?—shimmer in her eyes.
“Oh,” Kim grumbled. “Well . . . thank you, then.”
Thomas strolled over, interrupting the conversation. His dark gaze lingered briefly over Nikki before honing in on Kim and Megan. “Thanks for getting here so quickly, Dr. Cox—and Mrs. Cox,” he drawled in that raspy, gravelly voice of his. “Why don’t you go into Nikki’s room and get a suitcase together. I’ll drive the three of you home when you’re ready to go.”
Nikki’s eyebrows shot up. “Hey, since when did I become incapacitated?” she mumbled. “I think I can pack my own suitcase.”
Thomas frowned. His hands rested on his hips in that stance football players often assume while watching the game from the sidelines. “Quit giving me lip. I never said you couldn’t pack your suitcase, Doc. I asked them to do it because I need to go over a few things with you.”
“You could have just said so,” Nikki sniffed.
He grunted.
Kim was grinning far too fully for Nikki’s peace of mind. “Well,” she said, clapping her hands together once, “Megan and I will go pack Nik’s stuff up, then. We’ll leave you two kids to talk.” Her blonde eyebrows rose. “Try not to kill each other. Oh and Detective,” Kim threw from over her shoulder as she strolled away, “there’s a pistachio pudding Nik made in the fridge. You might want to pack that up while you two are ‘going over things.’ ”
Nikki rolled her eyes at Kim.
Thomas watched the schoolteacher walk away. When Kim and Megan had disappeared into the bedroom, he turned to Nikki. “You made pudding out of my nuts?”
Nikki’s face colored when four police officers’ heads turned. Her nostrils flared as she regarded Detective Cavanah. “Apparently not the nuts I wanted to make pudding out of,” she seethed.
Thomas winced. “Damn, girl, anyone ever told you you’re a grouch?”
“I’m rubber, you’re glue,” she sniffed.
“Ah,” Thomas drawled. His intense gaze raked over Nikki’s breasts, making her heart race. “I see we’ve now graduated from the fourth grade.”
“So how long you been into that hocus-pocus voodoo
junk?” Detective Ben O’Rourke asked Kim before shoving a piece of gum between his lips. “I thought only people in the movies did shit like that.”
Amused, Nikki watched the exchange from her position next to Megan in the backseat of the unmarked car. “It is not voodoo,” Kim retorted. “It is called ESP.” Her eyes narrowed. “And why in the hell are you driving us, anyway?”
Nikki’s expression grew thoughtful as she considered that question. Thomas had seemed hell-bent on being the one who would escort them back to the Cox estate, but changed his mind after a call had come in on his cell phone. He hadn’t said who the caller was, but Nikki had found herself wondering if it was a girlfriend. Or a wife.
She would never admit it aloud, but both thoughts left her feeling a bit sunken. Dismal, even. She frowned, reminding herself that she and the brash detective didn’t have anything besides a mutual disdain of Lucifer and a mutual love of pistachios in common. This did not a potential future make.
“Jesus!” Ben snapped back on a growl. “Is that the mouth you kiss your mother with?”
“Oh, shut up!”
Nikki shook her head, sighing, as Ben and Kim went to verbal war in the front seat. She couldn’t blame her best friend for disliking Detective O’Rourke after the way he’d treated her in Thomas’s office. Thomas . . .
Her thoughts returned to him.
Nikki’d caught Thomas staring at her strangely a few times since he’d arrived on the scene tonight. She didn’t really know how to describe the looks he’d been sneaking of her when he thought her attention was turned, but there was something searching about his black gaze.
A small part of her had thought maybe, just maybe, he might be the smallest bit attracted to her because he kept sneaking peeks at her breasts. She’d discarded that notion entirely, however, when it had occurred to her that he’d been looking right through her. Or looking for something on her . . .
Huh. Interesting. What
did
that mean? she asked herself. What could he possibly have been—
She stilled. Her breathing hitched.
Oh, damn, she thought, her cheeks going up in flames.
Oh, damn! Oh, damn! Oh, damn!
Nikki felt like groaning with mortification when it at last dawned on her that he had probably come across that topless photo of her when he’d been going through the email exchanges between her and Richard.
“Has anyone ever told you what a jerk you are!” Kim seethed.
“Funny, I was wondering the same thing about you!” Ben bellowed.
Oh, damn, Nikki thought, wanting to bury her head in the nearest sand dune. Thomas knew about her pierced nipples.
Nobody
knew about that except Kim. She’d just had them done six months ago. A secret way for her to feel privately sensual since scrubs and face masks left her feeling anything but.
“Go to hell!” Kim shot back.
“It beats the shit out of spending another second with you!” Ben yelled.
Nikki would never be able to look Thomas in the eye again, she thought dramatically. Oh lord, not ever, ever again.
“Shut the hell up!” Megan shouted from next to Nikki, drawing everyone’s stunned attention toward her. “Both of you!”
They shut up. Kim cocked her head and gawked at her stepmother from over her shoulder. Her eyes squinted. “Did you just tell me to shut up?” she squeaked.
“Yes!” Megan fumed. The color in her face was high. “Yes!”
Kim’s eyes widened. “That’s what I thought.” She stared at her stepmother a suspended moment, then turned around in the seat and remained silent.
One side of Nikki’s mouth kicked up into a half-smile.
Well. Chalk two up for the Megan-meister.
“What do you got?” Thomas asked from his cell phone
when he climbed into his Cadillac.
“Another dead body,” Chief Williams sighed. “Cavanah, you better get out to the crime scene ASAP. This one’s a bit different than the others.”
“How so?” Thomas murmured. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.
“Just get out there,” the chief muttered. “You’ll see soon enough.”
“I’ll be there in thirty,” Thomas rasped, his voice even scratchier than normal from fatigue. He needed some sleep, but conceded it would have to wait. “Hey, boss, can you phone Ben’s car and ask him to meet me out there after he drops off the ladies?”
“James still in Brooklyn?”
“Yeah,” Thomas growled. “I’ll call him tomorrow and tell him to get his ass back here.”
“No need. I’ll do it myself as soon as I radio Ben.”
“Much appreciated.”
Chapter 16
Monday, July 21 1:01 A.M.
“Her name is Monica Baker-Evans,” Ben O‘Rourke
informed Thomas as he strode with him toward the dumpster from which her body had been retrieved. “Thirty-three, big-busted—same as the others. She was the Vice-President of Marketing at World Visions, Inc. in downtown Cleveland.”
“Any noticeable differences from previous victims?”
“He didn’t spend very much time with her. Preliminary tests indicate she was disposed of pretty quickly, or at least for Lucifer’s standards.”
“How quickly?”
Ben shrugged. “A few hours tops.”
Thomas frowned, thinking that telling bit of information over. “She was his first kill since losing Dr. Adenike. This was probably a quick fix for him, a way to stroke his own ego.”
“Yeah. Probably. Anyway, we’re pretty sure he picked her up via the Internet. It’s too bad Lucifer answered Miss Baker-Evans’s ad instead of one of the fake ones Leon Walker put in.” Ben sighed. “And I think that more or less brings you up to speed.”
Thomas raked a hand through his hair. “Sorry I’m running behind schedule. It took two cups of coffee and a shower to wake up,” he muttered. “Who found her, by the way?”
“Homeless dude. Did the chief tell you Monica was a redhead . . . sort of?”
An eyebrow inched up. He flashed his badge at one of the beat cops securing the scene as he walked between two squad cars. “Sort of? What the hell do you mean, ‘sort of’?”
Ben sighed. “You’re not gonna like this, Cavanah. You’re not gonna like it one damn bit.”
“Cavanah!” a male voice boomed out, interrupting the conversation.
Thomas’s head cocked to the left. His eyes narrowed inquiringly. “What are you doing here, boss?” he drawled as the police chief jogged toward him and Ben.
Chief Williams came to a halt in front of the detectives, his breath coming out in short pants. “Jesus, I’m outta shape,” he muttered. “Desk work does that to a man.”