Ring Around the Rosy (10 page)

The unexpected kiss surprised her.

She wished she could figure him
out. Not that she minded the kiss. The imprint of his lips left a warm spot and
filled her insides with warmth and tenderness. This man evoked so much
confusion and emotional upheaval; she wasn’t sure how to take him. The kiss was
definitely more than just a friendly gesture.

“I thought you’d like something
more than fast food for a change.”

“I’m surprised you even knew how
to boil water,” he said as they sat down to eat.

She threw a roll at him in mock
anger. “I know how to do a lot of things that might surprise you.” She liked
their easy banter and teasing. Heck, she liked a lot of things about David
Morgan. Something told her she could fall in love with this man very easily.

“Hmm, tell me more.”

“You’ll have to figure that out
for yourself.” She couldn’t keep the suggestive tone out of her voice. Good
grief, her hormones were definitely out of control. She’d never flirted like
this before. She giggled. She couldn’t help it. Dave brought out something in
her she’d never experienced before, and she liked it.

After dinner, he helped clear the
table, and even washed the dishes while making quiet conversation. Susan
couldn’t remember enjoying anyone’s company or an evening more. They relaxed
together. They fit. She hated for it to end.

“Coffee?” she offered, when they
finished the dishes. He nodded, and while she made the coffee, he put his arms
around her. Again, he nuzzled her neck. She shivered in his arms, and he turned
her to face him. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, a tender,
passionate kiss.

She sucked in her breath, and
looked into his eyes, questioning, wanting more, at the same time, trying to
resist the feeling. She didn’t want to complicate her life. He pulled her to
him and held her.

“I shouldn’t be doing this. You’re
a witness in a murder investigation. I usually keep my professional and
personal life separate.” His voice sounded as if he struggled with his
feelings.

“Why not think of me as a
colleague? I’m not really a witness. I didn’t see the crime committed. We both
want the same thing, to catch this guy, to prevent any more murders.”

Running her fingers through his
hair, fascinated with the soft, silky strands, Susan relished the nearness of
him, inhaled
sandalwood,
leather, and cedar
scent of his after-shave.
She didn’t want to lose this feeling, hoped he wouldn’t pull away, longed for
him to stay with her, hungered for the taste of his salty lips, and needed the
security of his arms. Snuggled against him, her body seduced his, begged him to
hold her.

He pulled away. But his eyes
betrayed him. Speaking volumes, they glistened with desire. Susan pulled his
head down to hers and kissed him — the clinging, passionate kiss she longed
for. He ran his tongue along her lips, and she opened her mouth, letting his
tongue explore.

He slid his hand down her back and
under her blouse. The warmth of his touch set off something deep inside her.
She wanted this man. He brought his hand to her breast and reached under her
bra, found her nipple and squeezed gently. A gasp escaped her mouth. Heat
gathered between her legs.

How far should she let him go?

Not that the question mattered,
the phone rang, breaking the mood. She tensed, waiting for the voice. While the
machine answered, she turned away and poured the coffee.

A telemarketer selling windows
left a message. Susan sighed, handed Dave his coffee, and they took it into the
living room.

“Sit here.” He patted the place
next to him on her small couch. “I want you near me.”

She sat next to him, her heart
thumping in her chest, beating with the very joy of being alive. A giggle
erupted from her throat, and she felt enbarrassed for acting like a silly
teenager.

He took her coffee from her, set
it on the table, leaned toward her, and pulled her close. He released her hair
clip, entwined and curled her hair around his fingers. He mumbled something she
couldn’t hear.

She groaned at the pleasure of his
hands on her, tasting again the saltiness of his lips, engulfed in his caress.

The phone broke the spell again,
and she pulled away reluctantly to answer it, but relief swelled through her
mind — she didn’t want a relationship.

She had been attracted to Dave
since the first day she met him. Now she had to decide how to deal with it.
Something inside told her she fought a losing battle. She was falling for him.
She had no control over her emotions, especially when he was near. A one-night
stand wasn’t in the cards. She wanted more. A lot more.

“No!” He pulled her back down on
the couch. “Let the machine get it.” He held her in his arms and looked into
her eyes.

His body stiffened with tension.

They both knew who it was.

The machine answered, her message
played, and the raspy, harsh voice came on. “I changed my mind,” it said. “I
didn’t do Willie.” It clicked off. The dial tone sounded.

Dave jumped up and pulled the tape
from the machine.

She sat immobile, frozen with the
fear of what the words meant. She looked at Dave for reassurance. “Do you think
that means he didn’t commit a murder?”

Dave stared at the phone, then at
her.

“I don’t know what it means,” he
said. “But I have a feeling we’ll find out soon.

The words were barely out of his
mouth when his cell phone rang, and her scanner squawked. “Two bodies found
near Lagoon Lake”

Fear rushed through her as she
realized the horror of the events. Now he had killed two at the same time.

“I’m going with you.” She followed
Dave.

He looked as if he were going to
stop her, must have figured it was useless, and held the door open for her. A
few minutes later, they arrived at the crime scene.

Officers had already taped it off.
Dave motioned her to stay back and left her to her own devices. She waited for
him to walk away, before slipping under the crime scene tape. She followed a
short distance behind, being careful not to get too close, so she wouldn’t
disturb any evidence.

As they approached the scene,
Susan covered her mouth and barely squelched a scream.

Dave hurried back to her. “Damn
it, I told you to stay there. I sure as hell don’t need an hysterical woman on
the scene.” He put his arm around her. “Shit, are you okay? I told you to stay
back.” His tone softened.

Susan stopped and pulled away. “I
know them,” she whispered. “They’re my friends.”

Dave pulled her back into his
arms. “I’m sorry.” He led her away as she slumped against his chest.

Susan jerked back. What was she
doing? Friends or not, she had to cover the story. It was her job. She pulled
away from Dave, straightened up, and took a deep breath.

“I’m okay now.” She pushed him away.
“Go on back to your job. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I really
don’t have time to deal with you.”

“Yes, go on.”

“Good, then get the hell out of
here! Go home.” Dave turned her around and pushed her away. “You don’t belong
here, anyway.”

* * *

Dave started back to the crime
scene and glanced back to see if she left. The look on her face tore at his
heart. He may as well have slapped her.
 
He never would have expected her to react that way.

He shook his head. Too bad, she
took too many liberties. Damn headstrong woman. She had no business beyond the
crime scene tape, and she knew it.

Then damn it, why did he feel like
such a jerk? He almost went back to her, but resisted.

He hurried back to the scene.
Worst one he’d seen in a long time. He waited for the coroner to finish up.
“Any idea on time of death?”

“Can’t be sure, but not long ago.
The bodies are still warm.” He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Who
the hell is doing this?”

Dave shrugged.

Hell, he wished he knew.

* * *

When Dave returned to the scene,
Susan crept closer. Much as she hated to, she had to get a good look at the
bodies, and more importantly, at the message the killer left. They had to get
this guy. One way or another, he had to be stopped. Stupid bastard!

Jack and Jill Shipman, the latest
victims, were her friends. How could this have happened? Jack was big,
muscular. He’d do anything to protect Jill. Susan could barely bring herself to
look at their bodies.

Jill held the rhyme in her hands.
A rusty pail sat, half crooked, on Jack’s head. Their bodies, posed at the
bottom of a small hill, actually more of a mound, leaned against each other,
the terror of death on their faces.

Susan gulped back the nausea
rising in her throat. She wanted to scream, wanted to run away. Mostly, she
wanted to lash out at someone. At the killer.

Dried blood dripped down the side
of Jack’s head where it looked like someone tried to bash in his skull. Jill
lay next to him; her head leaned against Jack’s, her eyes glazed over in death.
Susan clenched her fists.

This time she knew the victims
personally, socialized with them — talked with Jill several times a month and
played with their kids in the park. This park. This time, it was personal. This
time, he went too far.

How did the killer know she knew
Jack and Jill? Or did he? Was it coincidence? Something made her think not. He
was sending her a message, but what?

She needed to go home or to the
office to write this story. She looked around. Looked like she’d have to walk.

Greg, her neighbor waved at her
from among the crowd of curious onlookers, but she ignored him when she noticed
Ray, camera in hand, walking away from the crowd. She ran toward him, and asked
for a ride to the office.

He didn’t seem surprised to see
her. “Sure, come on,” he said. “I’m headed there, anyway.

“Any luck with the pictures?” Not
that she really cared.

“Yeah, I did, actually. Who knows
maybe this will be my big break. This story is causing a sensation across the
state, and the national news media has picked it up. With the murder of two
bodies, there’s bound to be a call for pictures over the wire. I’m going to
submit them to Associated Press and see what happens,” Ray said.

Susan wondered if that was legal —
the paper provided the equipment— but she wasn’t about to start a discussion
about it. It was his problem. She had enough of her own. Seeing her friends’
bodies had rattled her, and she didn’t feel like talking. Fortunately, Ray
rambled on, accepting her occasional ‘uh huh’ or ‘hmm’ in response.

At the office, she sat down at the
computer. Sweat formed on her forehead, and her stomach rumbled at the horror
and loss of these innocent lives. What kind of monster killed like this? What
motivated him? She wasn’t sure she could report this story. But she had to.

She wiped a tear and began typing.

Jack and Jill Went Up The Hill

Jack and Jill Shipman, ages 32 and
31 respectively, are the latest victims of the Nursery Rhyme Killer. Their
bodies were found last night propped on a small mound near Lagoon Lake. Jill
held the rhyme, and a rusty pail adorned Jack’s head as if it were a crown. The
married couple had been high school sweethearts, and leave behind three
children, ages 8, 6, and 5. Police still have no leads in these bizarre
murders.

Detective David Morgan of homicide
was heard saying, “It’s the first time he killed two at the same time. He’s
getting bolder and changing his approach. He’s smart, but he’s bound to slip
up. Then we’ll catch him.”

Susan sat back. She had caught
that quote just before she left. He’d probably be mad as hell that she used it,
but anything she overheard was fair game, as far as she was concerned. She
continued with the story.

Jack and Jill, as with previous
victims, lived in the Thayer’s Crossing neighborhood. Police are perplexed at
how the killer managed to kill two in a park under their surveillance.

She sent the story, sat back, and
tried to relax. These murders, but especially the murderer, ticked her off. Was
he purposely picking on people she knew? These were her friends. Jill was
supposed to call her to do lunch. Did the killer have a vendetta against her?

She slammed her hand against the
desk. They had to get this bastard. She swiped at her tears. Never had she
hated anyone before, but she hated this guy. Hated what he was doing to
innocent people. The fact she received the phone calls from him disturbed her.
It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense.

And darn it, Ernie insisted on
putting Hill’s name on the byline. It wasn’t fair, it was her story, but there
wasn’t anything she could do about it. She could have refused to write the
story, but one of the others would have written it, anyway. She’d figure a way
to get the credit for it somehow.