Patricia Rosemoor - Skin

Like her own dad. Only he’d passed away too soon, and Mama had replaced him with a man who was pure evil.

“I think you should bond with them. I think it’s important for them. And for you. Maybe it doesn’t have to be with guns.”

“Screw that! She don’t give me orders!”

They sat in tense silence for a moment, then Lilith said, “I know your personal problems are eating you up, but I hope that’s not going to interfere with your investigation–”

“You telling me what to do, too?” Gabe glared at her. “ Why is it women always think they can lead a man around by the short hairs?”

“Okay, look, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to interfere with your family. I’m just really worried sick about mine. You’ve got to believe that. I don’t know how much longer the killer will hang on to my sister before leaving her body in some forest preserve.” She pulled the torn photo out of her pocket and showed it to him, then flipped it over so he could see the message. “Assuming the killer actually left this for me. Or was it you who did it, Gabe?”

He started as if shocked by the accusation. “Me? Why the hell would you think I would do something like that?”

“You don’t like me.”

“I think you’re reckless.”

“And I bested you.”

“Don’t fool yourself.”

“Maybe you wanted to shake me so I would quit. Did you leave this in my locker, Gabe?”

“Yeah, great. Not only do I have to deal with an ex-wife who spits on the job, now you are, and here I am, trying to find your sister and make sure you don’t end up like her.”

Lilith backed down. “Okay.” Terrific. She really might have to get on that stage. She reached to pick up the photo.

Gabe snatched it up by the edge, picked up a napkin from the bar and folded the photo into it. “I’ll take this to the station, see if we can get prints. Other than yours.” He put it in his pocket. “Is that it?”

“Not exactly.” She pulled the chain from her pocket and set it before him. “The killer is definitely trying to shake me. I just found this in my makeup case.”

Gabe eyed the chain but didn’t pick it up. “What would make you think the killer left that?”

“Because it belonged to Hannah.”

“It’s a chain. It could have belonged to anyone.”

“No. See this little safety pin holding it together.” She tapped the pin to point it out. “Hannah broke the chain and I used that pin to fix it for her.”

Joe set down another shot in front of Gabe and turned to Lilith. “Anything for you?”

“Sparkling water with a squeeze of lime. Thanks.”

Gabe waited until the bartender moved away to get her drink. “So your sister just wore a chain with nothing hanging from it?”

“There was a heart-half. She wore it here at the club. Caresse saw it on her.” And had thought she was wearing Hannah’s necklace. “ I saw it on Hannah the day before she was taken. If we could find the heart-half–”

“You think you’ll nail the killer.”

“Something like that.”

“So where are you going to start, Detective Mitchell?”

She shrugged. “That’s why I came to you. I thought you might have some idea of where to look.”

“Start with your boyfriend. Wyndham.”

He looked over his shoulder, and Lilith followed his gaze. Michael was sitting alone at a table, but rather than looking at the dancer on stage, he was staring at her. He didn’t look too happy seeing her with Gabe.

In a low voice, she said, “Michael is not your man.”

The bartender set down the sparkling water in front of her.

“Thanks, Joe.” She drank half the glass, then asked Gabe, “Any other thoughts?”

“Don’t dismiss the fact that Wyndham has shown special interest in you. Why do you think that is?”

“I would like to think it’s not because he’s guilty.” But because he was truly attracted to her and felt the same connection she had.

“I’m warning you; he’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous how exactly?” Lilith asked, remembering her disagreement with Michael because he’d pressured her to quit this place, worrying about it being too dangerous. That didn’t sound like a man who wanted her dead. She regretted that she’d gotten her back up. “That’s all very vague, Gabe. Anything specific?”

“His father is connected. I mean his real father. Wyndham’s adopted. I told you Pucinski has a file on him. I did some of the research myself. His father’s connection to The Outfit goes way back to before Wyndham was born. His mother’s no angel, either. Worked in a strip bar all her life. By the way, she’s tall, with long dark hair. Sound familiar?”

“A lot of dancers are tall with long dark hair.” Though she knew he was referring to the victims. Michael had told her about his mother himself, if not about his father. Maybe he didn’t even know who the man was. “What’s your point?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, your sister is the third woman who fits that description that this guy has taken. Killers don’t always victimize the people they want to punish. Sometimes they pick a substitute.”

“So you think he’s punishing the mother who abandoned him over and over through other women?”

Gabe shrugged. “There’s a certain perverted logic to it.”

A logic that stayed with her. She didn’t want to believe that Michael was anything but what he seemed to be — a documentary filmmaker who was trying to make sense of his life. Gabe was so negative about Michael, so certain that he lived a far darker life than was apparent, that a tiny niggle of doubt plagued her.

She had to know for certain.

Which is why she worked her way over to Michael’s table. He met her gaze but his expression remained neutral, as if he was hiding his feelings.

Not knowing how he’d react after their disagreement, she adopted a pleasant smile and merely said, “You look thirsty.”

“I could use a beer.”

“Coming right up.”

She turned away, but he caught her hand, stopping her. “And some company later. If you’re not still angry with me.”

His touch sent gooseflesh racing up her arm. Because he turned her on or because Gabe had made her wary of him?

“I’m not angry.”

On edge after Gabe’s lecture. Definitely.

“Good. Then I’ll meet you out back when you get off. We can go to my place. Or yours if that makes you more comfortable.”

Knowing those were the only options for a late-night date other than breakfast at some all night diner, she said, “Yours.”

That way she could look for the heart-half.

HE WONDERED how she’d liked his gifts.

He’d gone through a lot of trouble to shock her. She’d seemed a little off all night, like she was constantly looking over her shoulder.

Good.

He was getting to her.

He pulled the bag from the back of his vehicle. It had been there all night, and no one had seen it.

A little moan, and the contents stirred as he hefted the bag over his shoulder.

His anticipation was building. The pressure was becoming unbearable, made him feel like he was ready to explode. But now he had extra incentive for Lilith to do exactly what he wanted.

Entering the dark room where he kept the sister — that’s how he thought of her now, because Lilith was the one who really turned him on — he heard her scramble upright on the cot to which he had her handcuffed.

“What is it you want?” she asked. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t negotiate.” He drew closer, made his voice more menacing. Set his burden down on the floor next to a rusted old radiator. “I want to do things to you that no one has ever done. I want to make your sister watch.”