The Eyes Die Last (28 page)

“I have to advise you not to try it.”  She didn’t move. 

“I’ve never been one to listen to bad advice.”  He tilted his head and kissed her.  The kiss was gentle at first, and then grew harder.  Hard like she’d never been kissed before.  The kiss sent heat seeking missiles through her body. 

The man could kiss.  Kennedy hesitated all of two seconds before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back.  Climbing, so her whole body was flat on top of him, she dug in for the long haul.  She could feel his hard body through their clothing, the strong beating of his heart against her chest, as he continued to kiss her senseless. 

Nick’s
heart thumped out of control.  Could feeling this damned good cause a heart attack?  She hadn’t pulled out her gun and shot him yet.  And not only did she not shoot him, she was completely on top of him, grinding herself against him.  The kisses were amazing, but he needed more and decided to risk his life once again. 

“More,” he whispered.  “I need more.” 

He slowly slipped his hand under her tee shirt and using his softest touch, ran it up her back.  She still didn’t shoot.  He smiled. 

His palm inched a bit further.  That’s when Nick heard the click as she cocked the gun.  Damn.  He wasn’t going to get a look at that tattoo of hers today. 

Kennedy
was
lo
st
.
She wanted this man, ached for him.  Had it been that long since her last play date?  She was acting like a horny teenager and didn’t care.  The man felt too good.  All six feet-plus of sinewy and hard bodied man.  She felt the outline of his impressive erection against her belly. 

What’s a little kiss between two adults?  Not two adults.  One cop and one murder suspect.  Oh, fuck.  Kennedy remembered who she was—and who she was with—at the same instant his hand began to slide toward her
brea
st
.
As much as the woman in her would have loved to continue, the cop in her screamed for her to stop.  So she reached for her gun. 

She sprang off of him so fast her head spun, making her dizzy.  “Back off.  What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

He looked up at her with a bewildered expression.  “I was enjoying kissing a beautiful woman who I thought was enjoying kissing me back.” 

“That woman was not enjoying shit with you.  You’re a goddamn murder suspect in my goddamn murder case.  I will not let that...kiss thing, cloud my judgment.  Hit the road, Slick.” 

She could almost feel his temper rise.  “I beg your pardon, Detective, you were definitely enjoying that kiss thing and would sure as hell have enjoyed a whole lot more if you’d just relax.” 

“I don’t socialize with suspects.” 

“Listen, Detective O’Brien, I did not kill anyone.  I could never kill anyone, least of all a woman.”  His voice softened.  “I think you know that, Kennedy.  I really think, deep down in your heart, you know that’s the truth.” 

“I only know the facts.  No less, no more.  And I will haul you in and lock you up if that’s where the evidence leads me.  Just because we shared a meal and a few kisses doesn’t change that. 

“I’d expect no less from you.  I’m disappointed however, you’d even consider the possibility that I could’ve killed those women.” 

With a shake of his head, Nick rose and walked away from her.  In the light of the gray-blue morning sky, she watched him as he picked up his sleeping bag and cooler.  After throwing them into his SUV, he got in the truck and drove away without looking back. 

Kennedy stood alone, in the same spot he’d left her, and rubbed her fingers across her lips.  They were still swollen from his kisses.  Then it hit her like a hammer to the back of a head.  She was lonely.  And she’d never felt so lonely in her whole life. 

“Well, shit.” 

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

GRANDPA HUGGED KENNEDY WHEN SHE WALKED INTO THE GAME ROOM AT THE ‘BOYS CLUB’.

“Lass, what a nice surprise.  I thought you ditched me to go camping.”  “I thought I’d stop by on my way back to the city.”

“How was the trip?”  He sat down at the card table, picked up a deck of cards and shuffled them.

She took a seat opposite him.  “It was all right, I guess.”

“I imagine it was pretty nice out at the river.  Shade trees hold up a lot better there than they do here.  Out in the open you might even get a breeze.”

“Nah, no breeze.”  Kennedy couldn’t hide the glum look on her face.  “Fishing that lousy?”

“No, the fishing was good, but the company sucked.” 
             
“What company would that be?  I thou
ght you were traveling solo.” 
“I was.  At least until Nicolas Campenelli showed up.  He had the balls to take the campsite right next to mine.  Then he forced me to share my catch with him.”

“Forced you, you say?”  The elder O’Brien lifted a brow.

“Well, maybe forced is a little too strong a word to use, but he damned well bribed me.”  Kennedy shot back with an indignant snort.  “The bastard had a camp stove.  I didn’t.  I couldn’t cook over a campfire because of the ban on open fires.  He made me trade two of my hard-earned fish for the use of his freaking stove!”

Grandpa smiled at her and grumbled.  “Lowlife bastard if ever I heard of one.”  “After he ate my fish, he tried to make nice with me.  Wanted to talk.  Wanted  to know about my fishing trips with you and how I grew up.  You know...all that personal kind of shit.  He even asked about Da and Momma.”

“Just made himself right at home, did he?  And to top it all off, he tried to act like a nice guy.  Tried to act civil and hold an adult conversation?  Of all the bleeding nerve.  Why didn’t you just pull out your gun and shoot the bastard?”

“Believe me, Grandpa, I seriously came close.”  “I’m glad you were able to resist the temptation.”  “Yeah, too much paperwork.”

A few moments of silence passed between them. 

“Well, lass, I can only tell you what I feel in my gut.  Campenelli seems like one of the good guys.  I’ve seen him at the Rec Center working with the kids and he’s damn good with the little buggers.” 

“That doesn’t prove much.” 

“No man who has the patience needed to work with a rowdy bunch of youngsters can be all that bad.  He’s got to have a good heart.” 

“The jury’s still out on that, but I can’t be worried about whether or not Campenelli’s got a good or bad heart.  As far as I’m concerned, he’s on my short list of murder suspects.  His alibis for all three of the murders are pitiful.  We haven’t been able to back them up.” 

“How about
St. Louis
?  Is he still in the crapper in the alibi department?” 

“Yeah, his alibis suck too.  Have you heard anything new from any of your guys who know other guys, who might know something from some other guys?” 

“You’re not mocking me are you?”  He gave her a smile. 

She smiled back and teased a little more.  “Of course not!  I would never, ever mock you.” 

“Mind that you don’t.”  Grandpa gave her a wink.  “I’ve heard some small tidbits here and there.  Apparently,
St. Louis
is a wee bit of a religious freak who finds it hard to stick with his Church.  And he doesn’t just move on to greener pastures and lie beside the still waters.  It seems he’s always forced out.  As a kid, his dead step-father’s church turned its back on him and his mommy
deare
st
.
As an adult, he was asked to leave not only one, but two of the churches where he preached his fire and brimstone sermons.” 

“I found that information when I did my computer search, but I never found out why the church people threw his ass out.” 

“He was overkill on the ‘I am God’s right hand man and I’m here to straighten-your-arses-out sermons.” 

“I didn’t realize you could ever have too much Hell and damnation while spreading the word in the Mormon Church.” 

“Apparently, you can.” 

“I’ll be damned.  You learn something new every day.” 

“Did you know his mother worked as a hooker when times were tough?” 

Her head shot back and she felt her jaw drop.  “No, I didn’t.  That couldn’t have set too well with
St. Louis
.  Kind of hard to preach against the evils of prostitutes when you’ve got one in the family.” 

“I heard his mother’s stint as a prostitute didn’t exactly please the Biblebeating crowd.  Not once, but twice his congregation found out she had a habit of making money lying on her back.” 

“Poor bastard probably didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.” 

“You’re right about that.  His mother was an embarrassment to the man.  He didn’t mind her getting on her knees to pray, but dropping to her knees to perform ‘other’ services was a whole different ballgame.” 

“That’s disgusting, Grandpa.” 

“I guess it depends on if you’re on the getting or giving end of the service.” 

“That’s such a man thing to say.  Why did
St. Louis
keep his mother with him all those years if she was such an embarrassment?” 

“Maybe because she paid the bills and fed and clothed him with her so-called sin money.  Of course there was also a little matter of the fifth commandment.” 

“Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother.”  She nodded.  “I guess it wouldn’t sit too well if he didn’t practice what he preached.  His experience could certainly cause a man to hate prostitutes.  Maybe want to rid the world of them all.” 

“But hate them enough to murder them?  Drive him to break the sixth commandment?  Thou shall not murder?” 

“I’d think so.  Deep and personal humiliation.  It’s a strong mark in a serial killer’s profile.  We’ve got three murders with the same M.O.  It’s a serial killer scenario.” 

“You’re right.” 

“And if he’s not the killer, he’s still one strange dude.  I don’t have any trouble at all envisioning him biting off snake heads and doing other weird shit like that.” 

“Snake heads?  Lass, you’ve been watching too many televangelists.  I expect the man might have foaming-at-the-mouth, seizing-on-the-floor, I-have-been-touched fits, but nothing much worse than that.” 

“How much television can I watch when I still don’t have cable?”  She thought about what else he said.  “Seizing-on-the-floor fits?” 

“Biting off snake heads?”  He patted her knee.  “I’d say you’d be best off to take a deep look into the poor, pitiful, ex-Mormon’s comings and goings.  Like you said, something about
St. Louis
just ain’t right.” 

“Wilder and I will get on it.”  Kennedy frowned and added, “If the murder trial he’s stuck at ever ends.” 

“Word is the trial’s been a nightmare, the killer a heartless bastard.”  “You heard right.” 

“I spent my whole career upholding the law, but I’ve never gotten used to the way lawyers manage to drag a trial out so damn long when the accused is obviously guilty as sin.  Convict him.  Lock him up and throw away the key.  Justice served.  Nice and simple.” 

Grandpa always had a way with words.  “I agree.  Put it in a box, wrap it up and call it a day!” 

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

IT WAS A TYPICAL MONDAY MORNING AT METRO.
  Busy as all hell following a weekend.  The crime rates are higher on weekends as the tourists flock to the already busy Sin City seeking their fortunes and fun in the casinos.  The normally bumper-to-bumper, but still moving, traffic on the Vegas Strip resembles a parking lot.  Hotels are booked solid, casino tables are packed and shows sold out.  More people.  More crimes.  More arrests.  More paperwork.  Paperwork that always seems to overflow into Monday mornings.

Kennedy smiled when she saw Wilder sitting at his desk talking on the phone.  Dark circles under tired eyes hinted at how rough the trial had been.  He held the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder while both hands were busy massaging his temples.

She tossed her purse on her desk.  “You look like shit, Wilder.” 

He hung up the phone and quit rubbing his temples.  “You always say I look like shit.”

She plopped down in her seat.  “Well, you look extra shitty today.  Rough night?”

“Freakin’ trial.  I didn’t think it would ever end.”  He went back to rubbing his temples, larger circles this time.  “They kept us all weekend and the defense attorneys dragged that poor nun’s name through the gutter every chance they got.”

“It’s what they do best.”

“It just wasn’t right.  The woman’s family had to hear it all...  how she was raped, tortured, and murdered.  But no, that wasn’t enough.  The scumbags tried to make her look like she was begging to be treated that way.  Thank God, in the end the jury convicted the bastard.”

“How’d you get out of trial so soon?  I thought you were going to be tied up through Wednesday.”

“Judge Loretta Crowley, better known as Judge Ball-Buster, threw out about half of the defense’s witnesses and a quarter of the evidence.”

“So you’re back in the saddle.  Ready to get there out and catch some bad guys?”