guy was a fake. He pretended to be cool with his new assignment, specifically with me as his partner, and yet I had been in the room when he’d made his position more than clear to Barlow. He was the quintessential male chauvinist. A pig, no pun intended.
As I’d tossed and turned last night I’d considered why Barlow had decided to partner me up with a dinosaur mentality like Patterson. He could have easily shuffled someone else around. It wasn’t unheard of. There might have been rumbles of complaints but it would have passed.
I knew Barlow. He was a smart man. His first loyalty was to the job. He had his reasons for doing this the way he did. I just wasn’t privy to them yet. As much as I disliked the idea of working with a guy who considered himself a better cop than me simply because he was a man, I trusted Barlow’s judgment. We might not be able to work out our personal feelings but the guy had it on the ball where his work was concerned.
I felt totally confident that his reasons would be revealed eventually. And all would have been for the best for all concerned. The question was, would Patterson live to see it?
My lips quirked.
I padded into the kitchen for more coffee. As I surveyed the room I considered whether or not I really wanted to jump into a kitchen renovation. I’d been thinking about it since I returned from the academy. My whole house could use an update. Though I liked the cottage-style, it was getting a little worn. New cabinets and countertop, definitely new appliances would be good. The hardwood floors throughout I would keep, but a fresh coat of paint and maybe some new slipcovers for the living room furniture. Maybe.
I thought about calling my mom to see if she’d heard from Sarah or Michael this weekend.
Michael is one of my brothers. He’s also a fireman in Brentwood. His wife, Sarah, was my best friend all through high school. We’ve always been like sisters, which is great, since I never had one for real. She’s also the Chief of Detectives, Barlow’s boss’, secretary. But more important, she’s pregnant, due any second. This was actually her second pregnancy—she’d lost the first baby at six weeks. That was a tough time but she and my brother had been determined and they’d gotten through it. Her maternity leave from work had started a week ago. I missed her smiling face around Metro but I sure was happy for her.
The arrival of the first grandchild in any family is a monumental occasion. But in my family it ranked right up there with the second coming of Christ. We could hardly wait for this baby to come.
I would be turning thirty-one in a couple of months with no prospects of marriage, much less childbearing. I don’t have a problem with that. I love kids. I definitely love men and sex. But I’m still enjoying my second career and my newfound independence. Besides, staying unattached was so simple. Love was too complicated…still, the sex part would be nice. Truth is, like most women, I told myself what I wanted to hear. I didn’t have any offers, so I focused on my career and, for now, that was for the best.
Besides, whenever I thought of sex…I thought of Steven Barlow and what it might be like to have hot, frantic sex with him. We’d kissed, but nothing else. And every time I let myself dwell on how much I wanted him…well, it wasn’t good. I got all frustrated and then I started thinking about another man, one as equally forbidden, or maybe more so, as Barlow. Mason Conrad. He was totally off limits. I’d been undercover to take down that mob boss I told you about and he’d been one of the bad guys. But that didn’t stop us from connecting in a big way. What we’d shared, which wasn’t actually sex, but had the same result, had rattled me, still did, when I obsessed on the memories. Hanging on to my feelings for Barlow was probably all that had saved me from a monumental mistake.
The smell of overheated coffee made my nose twitch and dragged me away from thoughts of my lack-luster sex life. I should make a fresh pot. Feeling lazy, I tightened the sash of my robe and opted for taking my chances with the already brewed stuff. If I could drink the junk at the office I could handle anything.
Getting back to my personal life—I’ve always been an independent woman…to an extent. I guess I didn’t realize how cautious I’d actually been or how far I’d gone out of the way to avoid risk in my professional life until the hearing loss happened. In the process of relearning to live my life, I’d come to understand there was more I wanted to do.
Much more.
This was right where I wanted to be.
Ray Patterson had better watch out. I had every intention of showing him what a woman could do. Including leaving him in the dust on our first assignment.
The light above the door leading from the living room into the kitchen flashed, alerting me to another phone call.
I missed the little things, I considered as I made my way into the living room. A ringing phone, a dripping faucet. All those irritating noises you wished would go away forever. Guess what? You missed them.
This time the caller ID showed Metro dispatch. Not a good start to a Sunday morning. I should have gone to IHOP. Now I would end up going to work hungry.
“Walters.”
I watched the display as the words spilled across. A possible homicide victim had been discovered. The location came next. I recognized the Green Hills neighborhood. Patterson and I had our first case.
Now we’d see what the guy had to back up all that macho bluster.
I headed to my bedroom to change. Thank God my usual uniform didn’t include fishnets or stilettos.
To my surprise Chief Barlow waited at the crime scene.
The lessons I’d learned at the forensics academy immediately kicked in, drawing my attention to the grisly details of the scene that had been cordoned off by yellow tape.
According to the uniform who filled me in, the body had been discovered by a young woman walking her dog. A walking trail between a swanky residential area and a shopping mall provided the background.
The techs were already in place, marking potential evidence and snapping photographs. The medical examiner’s van arrived as I walked over to speak with Barlow.
I wanted to see the body but since he stood between me and it, I took that as my cue.
“What’ve we got?” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard detectives in movies ask that same question. God, I’m turning into a cliché.
Just like the Harrison murder, Barlow told me.
It wasn’t necessary to analyze the grim expression on his face or the statement to understand what he meant. I had worked the Harrison murder, which was still unsolved.
Reba Harrison had been found scarcely a block from her upscale home. The primary detail that stood out in my mind about the case was the brutal way in which she had been raped.
Most of the sexual activity had taken place while she was still alive, but not all. The foreplay leading up to murder had lasted several hours. The bruising around the wrists and the ankles indicated she had been restrained most of that time. She’d been strangled with the same type of cord used to restrain her.
Finally, her body, adorned with nothing more than exaggerated makeup and a tiara, had been dumped in the meticulously landscaped bushes along her street.
“Has the victim been identified?” As I asked this question my new partner strolled up next to me. I didn’t bother saying good morning. Clearly it wasn’t going to be one.
Barlow acknowledged Patterson’s presence with a nod then said to me, Mallory Wells. Twenty-four. Single. Moved to Nashville three years ago to break into the country music business.
Just like Reba Harrison, only Reba had been a lifetime resident. She’d had the same professional aspirations.
Looks like we’ve got ourselves a serial killer.
This from Patterson.
I resisted the urge to say duh. What he didn’t know was that we had already made that connection when Reba Harrison died. Almost