Cut to the Chase (3 page)

H
aving second thoughts?”

Erin realized she had been attempting to hang up the same frustrating silk blouse in her side of the closet for at least a minute. Although the fabric would not cooperate and kept slipping off the hanger and onto the floor, Erin knew she was distracted, making the menial task at hand that much more cumbersome.

Erin dropped the shirt, allowing it to pool into a delicate heap on the floor, and turned to face Chase. She took him in, devouring him from head to toe. Though he wore his favorite worn jeans and a simple t-shirt, he looked beautiful and ready to be kissed. As much as she wanted to tear out of his closet, their closet, and tackle him onto the bed, she needed to get that worried look off of his face…and fast.

“Second thoughts?” she asked.

“About us moving in together?” he asked, his expression growing more serious by the second.

Erin sighed. He actually thought that she was reconsidering moving in with him? Well, if that was the case, she needed to clear up his misperception real quick. She closed in on him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Erin breathed in his scent, a combination of soap and pure maleness, and moaned in appreciation. She gave his ear a gentle nip before caressing his neck with strategically placed kisses.

“Erin, they will be here any moment. You know we won't be able to finish what we…” Erin cut him off with a kiss to the mouth and he groaned. Those admirable seconds of restraint were forgotten as he thrust his hands into her hair and reciprocated with his own hot kiss. She was so hungry for him, so needy, that she couldn't wait to get to the bed. She wanted him right there in front of the French doors, where the moon could spill in and illuminate his perfect body. Erin yanked off her tank top and easy-access yoga pants and stared at him.

“God, you're beautiful…and mine,” he said, taking off his shirt and pants.

He was ready for her. He was always ready for her. She sank to her knees and licked her lips. The head was glistening with glorious anticipation. She needed to taste him, feel his essence on her tongue. With her hands firmly cupping his ass, she lapped at the mounting beads of liquid. Erin could feel her own wetness give way, and it shamelessly spilled over onto the insides of her thighs. She was just about to take him deep when he lifted her to her feet, bent her over the love seat, and slid into her.

Erin gasped, not from pain or shock, but from pure pleasure. His fingers massaged her ass while his cock found her core with each expertly driven thrust. She cried out, feeling every sensation at once. She started to look over her shoulder, to catch a glimpse of him as he worked her body and took what she happily offered, but stopped short when she caught a glimpse of their reflection in the glass of the balcony door. Though the image lacked distinct definition or detail, their lovemaking was firmly captured and she marveled at the sight.

“Oh baby,” he groaned, rocking into her.

The sound of his voice was the only thing that could steal her attention from the couple in the window. “Go ahead and watch, my love. I want you to see how your body welcomes me in…how your body aches to be claimed.” Her embarrassment for being caught was instantly replaced with burning desire when she looked into his eyes.

She didn't need to be told twice. Erin was anxious to return her gaze to the erotic image in the windowpane. She felt and saw Chase's hand release her ass and navigate to her belly and then lower. His breathing became labored as he continued to pound into her from behind. Erin felt two fingers gently stroke the taut nub between her folds. Her body had been on the brink of climax, but the moment he started to caress her clit, she knew she had only moments. She threw her head back and pleaded for him to come with her.

“Chase, come with me…please!” she begged.

“I'm with you, baby. Now watch how you make me come,” he said, his voice strained.

Erin looked back at the window. She saw his eyes close as his thrusts became more intense. The look on his face, the raw emotion he made no attempt to conceal, brought forth her own orgasm and she finally let go. As he pumped into her, his warmth flooding her body, she watched him mouth the words, “I love you.”

M
ia's instincts told her to run. Sprint was more like it. But she didn't. And how could she? Her uncle had never asked her for a favor before. In all her years, he had never once asked her for a single thing. There was no way she could turn him down. He needed her. Uncle Drew, a man who never seemed to need or want anything, needed her help now. Mia wasn't about to disappoint him, the man who had been like a second father to her.

Uncle Drew greeted her as she entered Chase Montclair's penthouse. Although he gave her a kiss on the cheek, she knew he was all business. She felt his firearm beneath his perfectly pressed suit as she hugged him.

“Thanks for coming, sweetheart. If this becomes too difficult for you, just tell me.” His eyes grew soft. “I'll find another way to find this son-of-a-bitch if this case…brings up too many memories.” Uncle Drew touched her chin with his two fingers and held it steady. Mia got the feeling that he was looking for something, a sign, perhaps, that she was too fragile, too vulnerable to take on the responsibility.

Mia held his gaze and smiled. Her demons might stir in the wee hours of the morning, interrupting her sleep with nightmares, but while awake and lucid she was somehow able to carry on with life. “Let's get to work,” she said. His hand fell away. He returned the smile and led her to what appeared to be an office. Although the room had the essential office décor, computer, phone, desk and the like, it was also a space that required those occupying its walls to be comfortable. Her eyes were drawn to the two plush couches and matching chair positioned in front of a set of French doors. The room was saturated in earth tones, from the color of paint on the walls to the thick Oriental rug at her feet. While the office definitely gave off a more masculine feel, her sense of smell detected a floral scent, which complimented the room perfectly.

Mia walked farther into the room. She withdrew her composition book and a pen from her canvas bag and placed the bag on the floor next to the chair. Mia remembered how she initially felt when she received that bag as a Christmas gift from one of her students. She thought that sporting a bag that said
#1 Teacher
would make her feel self-conscious, as if she had bought it for herself and was bragging. It had taken her less than a day to carry that bag with pride and to realize how silly she was being.

“I'll tell Ms. Whitley and Mr. Montclair that you have arrived.”

But before Uncle Drew could turn around, Mia was hit with a wave of that floral scent. “Ms. Ryan, thank you for coming.”

Mia stared at the couple in the doorway and smiled. The woman—Erin, she could only assume—wore gray yoga pants and a fitted t-shirt. With her feet bare, her hair in a ponytail and her face free of any obvious makeup, she looked young and fresh. Mia took notice that Mr. Montclair's hand never left the small of her back as they walked toward her.

“Not a problem,” she said, smiling at the couple and then at her uncle. Mia couldn't help but think that Uncle Drew appeared worried. She gave him a look, one that was meant to relieve him, one that told him:
I'm fine, I can do this.

He nodded, though she was unsure if he really believed her. “I'll be right outside…if you need me,” Uncle Drew said. He looked at the couple, but Mia knew the message was for her and her alone.

“Thanks, Andrew,” Erin said, smiling warmly. There was genuine respect and appreciation behind those two words. Mia liked Erin already.

“Please call me Mia.” she said.

Erin chuckled. “I can't tell you how many times I've asked, no begged, your uncle to call me by my first name.”

“Stop trying. He won't budge on that. One of his many self-made rules,” Mia said. “I imagine the formality enables him to stay focused. Whatever the reason, he is great at what he does.”

“Very well, I will stop harassing him,” Erin said with a sigh. “That is, if you call us by our first names.”

“Done,” Mia said, smiling.

“I trust Andrew expressed not only our desire, but our absolute need, to keep this matter between us. It is of the utmost importance,” Chase said firmly. He led Erin to the couch. She immediately sat down, tucking her feet behind her. He put his arm around her and drew her close. He was her protector. A presence not to be reckoned with. His devotion to her was obvious, as was her love for him.

Mia sat in the chair opposite them. “I know my uncle told you that I was a profiler for the NYPD, but have since left the force.” Mia eyed them closely, contemplating how much she should tell them. She knew her uncle. He would never have disclosed much more than that. He respected her privacy.

Despite just meeting this man and woman, she couldn't help but trust them. Although it was out of character for her to establish trust with someone so quickly. The years on the force, her mother's murder, and her father's suicide had left her guarded. And that was putting it lightly. “But now…well, now I teach twenty-five kindergarten children how to read, write and color. I show them how to play nicely and take turns. I am also assisting a handful of children in mastering the art of going on the potty consistently. My life has changed and I'm grateful for that.” She cleared her throat. The next admission was a bit more difficult. “But I still think like a profiler…despite my time away. My uncle asked me to help you. You can trust that I'll do everything I can.” Mia opened her composition book and dated the page. “And as for discretion, let's just say that my uncle and I are cut from the same cloth in that regard.”

Chase squeezed Erin's hand and leaned back a few inches. He appeared satisfied with that response.

“It's essential for me to interview everyone involved. And it's of even greater importance that I speak to each person separately.”

“Well, that shouldn't take too long. The only people who know about…about the rape are Chase, Andrew and my brother, Paul.” Erin shifted in her seat, which only made Chase pull her closer to him.

Mia quickly secured her mask, her impenetrable poker face. Her heart quickened at the mention of the heinous crime, a crime that was too close to home. Breathe, Mia. You can do this.

Chase suddenly appeared uncomfortable. “I thought that you would talk to us…you know…as a group?”

Mia shook her head and closed the book. “Look, it took me all of two seconds to conclude how much you two care for one another.” Erin smiled and her cheeks took on a rosy glow. “And it is for that reason that I need to talk to you separately.”

Chase's eyes narrowed. He was not pleased. “I think I should stay…for support.”

He was not going to win this. Mia had a feeling that it was a rare occurrence for Chase Montclair to be told no. “Your presence may force Erin to censor her recollection of the crime. Details may be omitted to spare your feelings. Chase, you need to have faith that I know what I'm doing.” His jaw clenched as she stared at him. “In my experience, it's those details, those seemingly unimportant and many-times disturbing clues, which enable me to zero in on the suspect.”

“Chase, I'll be just fine.” Erin gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a pat on the thigh.

With his jaw slackened only slightly, he didn't appear convinced. “Okay. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. Can I get you ladies anything to drink? Water? Coffee?”

“I'm good. Thank you, anyway,” Mia said.

“Me too,” Erin said.

Chase sighed. His excuse to return to the office and be present for Erin's interview was squashed on the spot. Chase stood and walked toward the door. But before he made his exit, he turned and said, “Take care of my girl, Mia.”

Erin blushed.

Mia couldn't help but feel envious of their relationship. She wondered if she would ever find something even remotely resembling the love and devotion she had just witnessed between Chase and Erin. The chances were slim considering her tendency to shut out the world. The truth was that she was a functional hermit. She may go to a job she loved during the day, shop for food, and run errands like a normal person, but that was all a façade, an illusion that she was living a fulfilling life.

The sound of the door closing signified that the session had begun. Exhilaration and trepidation were competing for dominance. Mia had always enjoyed the challenge, the moment when all the pieces of the puzzle were laid out haphazardly, pleading with her to make them fit. But now the typical excitement she felt at the onset of a case was clouded by her own fear. It was impossible for her not to think about her mother. There would be similarities, details that would trigger painful memories she needed to keep tucked away.

Mia looked at the woman across from her. Though Erin's eyes radiated warmth, Mia couldn't mistake that familiar shadow, a shadow that threatened to snuff out the light. Erin needed her help. And that meant putting her own issues aside. Actually, it meant stuffing her demons further into that dark chasm, where they couldn't interfere and taint the present.

E
rin watched Mia scribble furiously into her composition book and wondered what kind of person chose to profile. Mia's motivation and her skill to listen, analyze and identify intrigued Erin. She suspected that Mia had a story of her own, one that was rarely told.

They spent the first hour discussing the years leading up to the rape, which included her parents' passing. Erin told Mia about the night she learned they had drowned. She found herself going into vivid detail when she explained how her brother had looked as the police officer informed her that they were gone. With his eyes bloodshot, his body in shock, Paul Whitley had stood there as if the current reality was just a cruel delusion. Erin moved on and talked about how Professor Farrell, Josh Graham and a handful of other college friends had helped her through that dark period of her life.

“Talk to me about Josh,” Mia said.

Erin instantly felt guilty. He had visited her a couple weeks ago and had helped her move into her apartment. They had spoken only once since then. Yes, she had a lot going on, between her relationship with Chase and the rapist at large, but still. Would it kill her to pick up the phone and say hi to an old friend? She needed to rectify that situation. Erin mentally put that on her to-do list.

“We met in Chemistry class during freshman year. We were both premed, so we shared a lot of the same classes throughout our years at Penn. He was, is, a good friend, though I have made little attempt to stay in touch.”

“Were you always just friends?” Mia asked.

It was a fair question and she'd suspected that Mia was going there. “Yes, it was always platonic.”

“Did he ever want your friendship to morph into something else?”

“No, I don't think so. If he did, he never let on.” Erin laughed. “Let's just say that he never gave me reason to believe that he was secretly pining for me. He never hid his relationships, or encounters, with women from me.”

“So, Josh was a player?”

Erin shook her head. The word “player” sounded so ugly. He may have dated many women, but he didn't dupe them or give them the impression that he was looking for anything long-term. “No, I wouldn't call him that. I mean, yes, his bed was rarely empty, but he never used manipulation to get them there. He didn't have to.”

“Okay. Tell me about your other college friends.”

It didn't take very long to discuss the friends she had acquired at Penn. It was a very short list, which was what Erin had preferred.

The conversation drifted to Erin's volunteer work at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. She spoke in greater detail about her original career aspirations and the wonderful opportunity she was given to work alongside Dr. Mitchell Morris.

“I attended his funeral this past week.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Erin.”

Erin smiled weakly. “Thanks. It was just so sudden. I saw him the night before he died at a benefit. Dr. Morris had looked pale and just…off. A few days later, his son came to my work and told me that his father had fallen down the steps in his home in Philly, where he succumbed to his injuries.”

Mia's pencil stopped its mad scribbling and hovered over the lined paper. “Did you know Dr. Morris's son prior to this?”

“Dr. Morris's son, Scott, is also a doctor. We met at CHOP over a year ago in his father's office. I hadn't seen or spoken to him since. We were recently reintroduced at the Maya Montclair Foundation benefit last week.”

Mia tapped the eraser end of her pencil against her book. “Describe him for me, Erin.”

Erin hesitated.

“I estimate him to be over six foot, brown hair, brown eyes…clean-cut. He comes across as a little arrogant.”

“Would you describe him as handsome?”

“Although he's not my type, I imagine he doesn't have difficulty finding women.”

“So, he is attractive and a doctor. What makes him not your type?” Mia asked, her voice curious.

Erin shrugged her shoulders. She didn't know exactly, but something about Scott Morris turned her off.

“Is it because he's arrogant?”

“Possibly…not sure.”

Mia turned a page in her book and sat up straight. Mia either sensed Erin's reluctance to talk about Scott Morris, or she found him not worthy to discuss further, because she switched gears and asked her about the night she was raped. Erin knew that this was coming, that everything they had discussed this past hour and a half was leading up to full and complete disclosure regarding the rape itself.

Erin must have appeared nervous, because Mia asked, “Erin, would you like to take a break?”

“No. I want to tell you what happened. It's just…”

Mia stared at her as if contemplating her next move, her next question to unload. Suddenly, Mia spoke. Erin's instincts had been correct. Mia most definitely had a story to tell.