Sympathy For The Devil (26 page)

“Devin, the cops think you’re a killer, and I can’t help you if I don’t know what happened. I don’t understand why you won’t—”

“Because I killed her,” he snapped, cutting her a dark look. “Or I might as well have.
I
wasn’t there where I should’ve been. I let things...” His lips set in a grim line and he looked away, staring at the windshield absently.

“You weren’t there because she kicked you out. That’s not your fault.”
Unless it is...?

He slid the key in the ignition but left it there, the ring swinging restlessly as he leaned back in his seat and stared at the felt ceiling. “She wanted to experiment in ways I didn’t. I would’ve done anything for her—I tried—but it drove a wedge between us like I thought it would.”

Her nipples still pulsed from the clamps and she was quite aware of the fact that lines were still prominent on her skin under her dress from the flogger. What the hell could Chelsea have wanted that he wasn’t into? “Stuff, like...?”

“Multiple partners. Going a step beyond voyeurism into actual touching.” His jaw twitched and he tipped his head forward again to stare out the windshield.

“And you don’t fuck other people,” she supplied, which was exactly what he’d told her a few times.

“Exactly. I tried, for her. And we fought constantly afterward. She strongly felt she was polyamorous. I’m not. I don’t like being casual and as non-vanilla as my tendencies in the bedroom may be, they are at least monogamous.” At last he looked at her, and even in the shadowy depths of the truck, his eyes were pained and guarded. “And that’s why the moment you want something else, this ends. A clean break.”

Once more the pieces slid into place for her and Natasha understood. “She cheated on you, before the separation.”

“Yes. And I was pissed. Whatever else you might’ve heard was bullshit—I never, ever laid a hand on her out of anger. But I admit I was angry. I’ve always had a temper.”

No wonder she told Adam that her husband was going to kill her. Tash had worked with enough straying spouses to know how easily those words slipped out. Everyone, when caught, knew things were going to go badly with their partner. Of course, no one ever actually ended up dead.

“I would’ve stayed if I’d know...what would happen while she was alone. I would’ve fought more for her, I would’ve worked things out. But she said ‘leave’ and I did, and less than a month later she was dead.”

“Who was she sleeping with?” Tash asked as he reached for the keys and turned the engine on. “I heard something about an elementary school teacher’s husband?”

“No, that was before—we met them here.”

“So was it other people you experimented with?”

“I don’t think so. Someone in town, but...I don’t know who.” He avoided looking at her so she ceased her questions for now. It had been a hell of a long night, after all, and he’d given her a reprieve from work—now he deserved one from the subject as well.

****

Natasha was exhausted and completely unable to stop yawning.

She trekked up the stairs to her apartment one by one and it had never in the entire time she’d lived there—not even carting laundry or groceries around—felt like such a long walk. She paused halfway up the stairs to slip off her heels and wandered the rest of the way barefoot, shoes dangling by their straps in either hand. Her small purse hung from a long strap over her shoulder and it bumped her hip as she went.

Her rather
sore
hip, which went with her sore thighs and the rest of her. It wasn’t an unpleasant pain, but a reminder of precisely what she’d been doing.

She reached the top of the landing at last and fumbled with her keys. Part of her was hoping Devin would come back with her, but then she might not have gotten any sleep at all—and sleep she
definitely
needed if she was going to hit the ground running the next day.

Her apartment was as she’d left it, quiet and with the kitchen light still on, highlighting the dishes from dinner. While she changed, Devin had gathered them to soak in the sink and cleaned the table and counters, at least. Still, she did not want to go near them.

With a yawn, she kicked her door shut and continued on. Maybe a shower now in case she slept in tomorrow. At the very least, she had to get her makeup off before bed.

She cast the shoes by the couch, trekked toward the bathroom, and unzipped the dress as she walked. She still couldn’t remember when she even got the damn thing but was glad she had it in the back of her closet waiting.

Her purse, she hung on hook just inside the bathroom door—she made a mental note to put her Beretta away afterward—and her dress, she let hang half-open while she twisted the taps to run water in the sink.

A sound in the living room drew her attention.

Tash froze, still listing to the white-noise of the rushing water, and waited. It almost sounded like the front door, but she’d locked that, hadn’t she?

Fear rose and she thrust it down again, her eyes darting to her purse for a moment before flicking back toward the open bathroom door. All she saw from here was the short hall leading to the kitchen and the light there.

What if I didn’t lock that door?

“Devin?” she called, tense from head to toe.

No answer.

She might’ve just been hearing things. Maybe. Long night, exhaustion... But the doubt didn’t feel right—her gut told her something very, very wrong was going on here.

Water still blasted in the sink and Tash resisted the urge to turn it off—didn’t want to turn her back for even a second. Her heart raced as she inched forward, gaze shooting to her hanging purse before returning to the door.

One more time and if he doesn’t answer me, he damn well deserves to be shot.
“Devin?”

She was inches from the door now, reaching for her purse.

A shadow cut over the wall just to the left, blocking the kitchen light. Tash’s heart shot into her throat and she stifled a scream, grasped the doorknob and jerked it back. A figure shot forward and she glimpsed a gloved hand reaching for the door just as she pulled it shut.

Immediately she twisted the lock on the doorknob, jerked her purse from the hook, and fumbled through it. Her phone, her phone—shit, she had no phone. It was in the creek somewhere. Instead she went for the hidden pocket, reaching inside for the familiar grip of her gun.

The doorknob twisted and door rattled, but it remained locked. Tash rushed back, still facing the door, gun raised, and slammed into the wall. Her pulse galloped but hands were steady as she held the gun. “I’m armed!”

The door stopped rattling. She held her breath, waiting. A shadow moved over the space beneath the door—whoever was out there hadn’t left.

Shit, shit
... “I’m calling the police,” she called. “Get the fuck out of my apartment!”

The wall rattled as someone in the adjacent apartment thumped on it.

Jesus, I’m not making noise for the hell of it.
She pounded back, still keeping her gun pointed at the door. “Call the police! Someone’s in my apartment!”

They didn’t pound again and she returned all of her focus to the bathroom door, poised, waiting, breathless. The shadow under the door was gone but that didn’t mean whoever had been there left.

Devin would’ve said something, wouldn’t he? This wasn’t...some other sort of game? No, he’d been careful to ensure she knew what was going on—he wouldn’t stand out there and scare the hell out of her without warning.

The apartment beyond the bathroom door was silent and she leaned against the sink, still keeping her arms out with the gun trained on the door, waiting as excruciatingly long minutes passed.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there; her arms ached and the gun wavered, but still she held it high. Her heart had slowed its beat to normal just as steps shuffled beyond the door.

Tash held her breath and waited.

“Natasha?”

Oh Christ, Keisha.
She let out a heavy breath and lowered the gun as the steps drew nearer. “In here.”

Tash unlocked the door and opened it just as Keish stepped into the hallway. Leo McKay and two other officers were with her.

“What the hell happened?” Keisha asked.

Tash set the Beretta on the counter and stepped back, sinking down to sit wearily on the covered toilet seat. Her dress was still undone at the side and she was too tired to scramble to re-zip it.

She had no idea where to start but decided to skip the visit to The Box with Devin. “I think the killer was in my apartment.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The police stayed for an hour and Natasha paced while she repeated her statement and they checked for signs of a break-in. Nothing indicated anyone but her had entered the apartment. The door was unlocked when the police arrived, and she’d probably forgotten to lock it herself. No one said they thought she was crazy, but she had to wonder.

At the very least, she doubted anyone actually believed the murderer they were looking for had been in her apartment. For one thing, Tash had a hell of a lot of people who might want to scare her. For another, as far as they were concerned, she didn’t fit the victim type, which thus far had consisted of white women. Keisha gave her a sympathetic look and offered to stay overnight, but Tash refused and happily saw everyone out of her apartment. She didn’t need to be babysat by them, especially not when they didn’t entirely take her seriously.

Instead she locked the door, braced a chair under the knob just in case, and swiftly finished getting cleaned up before changing into loose, comfortable pajamas. She then stared at the phone for a few minutes before finally giving up and dialing. Yes, it was three in the morning, but he’d left her with his cell phone number and she had to assume he meant for her to use it.

She half expected the call to go to voicemail but instead Devin picked up three rings in. “Natasha?”

Tash let out a breath and a tremble spilled through her body—it wasn’t until she heard his voice and she prepared to speak that it really hit her.

She tried to get a hold of herself and forced her voice to be steady. “Did I wake you?”

“What’s wrong?”

Her eyes closed and she cringed inwardly. So much for sounding calm. “Someone was in my apartment.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I locked myself in the bathroom and banged on the wall until the neighbors phoned the police.”

“Where’s your cell phone?”

“In the creek. Long story. But anyway, it was a few minutes after you dropped me off and left. Did you see anyone hanging around the building?”

“No. I left once you were inside.”

And at such a late hour, he no doubt would’ve noticed if someone was skulking around. She sighed and rubbed tiredly at her eyes. “Okay, it was worth a shot.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Devin asked, voice low and full of warning. And she knew, the moment she said it, he’d get broody about it, but keeping things from him apparently wasn’t an option.

“Two women were killed in the city—one a couple of years ago, one six months ago, and both match the M.O. of your wife’s murder. And the murders of the two women from around here. This was while you were in the city.”

He was silent on the other line, perhaps waiting for her to get to the point or somehow connect this to what had her so freaked out.

She was tense from head to toe, clutching the phone’s receiver tightly. “They were both connected to the lifestyle—one visited BDSM clubs, the other was a sex worker who specialized in kinkier fare. I don’t know if you ever met either of them, but...look, the police think this means you did it, and
I
think this means you’re being stalked by whoever killed Chelsea. And he’s trying to pin this on you by having bodies pile up in your presence.”

Devin was silent on the other end of the line and it only served to make her more anxious. Tash rose from her couch and paced the length of the small living room.

“And you’re next on the list,” he said at last.

She’d been avoiding thinking it but tonight had made it all too real. “I think so. Maybe. I mean, any number of people could have been here tonight, but—”

“I’m coming over.”

“You don’t need to—”

“I’m
coming
over
,” he cut in, voice as firm and unyielding as it ever had been. “If I’d known this two days ago, I would’ve stayed the hell away from you, but that’s likely not an option now.” Something rattled on the other line and then slammed—the door, perhaps the screen one. Keys jangled. “You’re not staying alone. Keep the door locked and I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

She didn’t have a chance to argue as she heard his truck’s engine start. “Okay,” she said instead, and hung up to wait for him to arrive.

It eased her worry a little, and she sank back down on the couch to wait, watching her apartment door warily. Sure, it was a solution for tonight, but what the hell was she going to tomorrow? Or the next night? Or at work? Devin couldn’t follow her around constantly.

And even if he could, she didn’t suppose that would stop someone who wanted her dead.

****

Tash awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee. She blinked her eyes open to stare at the ceiling and felt a body next to hers. As she stirred, an arm wrapped around her midsection and lips found her throat. She smiled and yawned, leaning into Devin.

They hadn’t had sex when he arrived—she was too tired, and he looked exhausted as well. Instead they fell into bed at quarter to four. She didn’t bother looking at her alarm clock—she’d slept in, if the light angled across her bed was any indication—and instead snuggled against him.

“So...you don’t really have any food beyond leftovers from last night,” he said, his voice far more awake than hers would be.

Tash yawned again. “No.” She cleared her throat as she sounded like she’d been sucking on gravel. “There’s stuff for, uh, toast. I usually hit the bakery on my way to work.”