Allison Brennan - Speak No Evil

She hugged him. “I’m so sorry. Do you know who did it?”

“I can’t prove it, but I think my brother did it. He always hated Felix.” He didn’t know why he said that, but it worked. She squeezed his arm, her eyes full of compassion. Her fingers were so soft…

The librarian motioned for Becca, and she stood. “I have to get back to work. Take care of yourself, okay? Losing an animal is hard. People don’t realize how much we grow attached to our pets. And you should definitely talk to your brother. That was cruel.” She gave him a spontaneous kiss on the cheek and went back to work.

Slowly, methodically, he packed up his laptop. He walked to his car, heart racing. If Becca worked her regular hours, she’d get off in less than an hour.

He would be here when she did.

Suddenly, losing his opportunity to take Jodi didn’t anger him as much anymore. There was always tomorrow.

All Nick had asked for were directions to a halfway decent hotel; what he got was a ride to Carina’s parents’ house and his own private apartment above their garage.

“I really appreciate your hospitality,” he said as he sat in Carina’s car in front of a modest, two-story house. One of Carina’s parents had a green thumb, as evidenced by the excessive flowers in the ground, in pots, and hanging on vines that covered four trellises lining the walk to the front door.

“Don’t mention it.” She didn’t make any move to get out of the car, instead turned to face him. “I read a couple articles about the Bozeman Butcher.”

Nick tensed. He didn’t want to talk about it. “Water under the bridge.”

“It was a tough case.”

He didn’t comment.

“I noticed you were limping after we drove back from Carlsbad. Are you okay?”

She sounded casually concerned, like any colleague would be. But beneath the easy tone there was something else…did she doubt he could do the job? Did she regret including him in the investigation?

“Why did you let me join you and Hooper?”

She didn’t answer him for a long time. Finally, “I didn’t want you working the case on your own. Secondary to that was your familiarity with sex-related murder. We felt your experience would be valuable.” She looked at him. “And you more than proved yourself during our meeting with Dillon. I don’t regret it. Do you?”

“No.” He leaned back into the seat, closed his eyes. “Steve and I had an argument earlier today. We’d never gone that far before.”

She was waiting for him to say more; what could he say? That Steve lived in his own fantasy world? That he had a dark side Nick was only beginning to discover? No, not yet. They had the interview in the morning and then…maybe then he and Steve could work to get back what they used to have.

But Nick wasn’t holding his breath. He was a different man today than he was two decades ago. So was Steve. They had grown apart, and Nick didn’t know how to bridge the divide. At this point it seemed wider and deeper than the Grand Canyon.

“I’m fine,” he finally said. “My knee gets sore at the end of the day, especially after a lot of use. By tomorrow morning I’ll be as good as new.” He smiled, winked at her. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

He found Carina looking out the windshield, a thoughtful expression on her face. Her profile was unusually exquisite, elegant. It wasn’t the first time since yesterday that he’d noticed how attractive Carina was, but it was the first time he’d had more than a moment to think about it.

She turned to look at him, her lips parted, and once again he noticed her sensuous mouth. It was a sin for a woman to have such kissable lips and not be kissed.

He looked away and said, “Maybe you should introduce me to your parents so they’re not surprised to see a light on over their garage.”

“I called them, they’re expecting us. And Nick?”

“Yeah?” He looked at her again, this time focusing on her eyes, not her lips. He didn’t particularly like the fact that he was attracted to the cop who believed his brother was capable of murder.

“I’m glad you’re on board.”

Becca was still unconscious.

He’d had to take her fast, because he didn’t know who would be coming in and out of the library parking lot. He knew she drove the little sporty Toyota because he’d watched her before. If someone was around, he had planned to follow her home instead. But everything worked out for the best: she left alone, no one was in the parking lot, no one was walking on the street.

She was petite, and because she recognized him, she wasn’t scared. She even smiled and waved as she approached her car-he was parked next to her, trunk up, pretending to look for something.

“See you later,” she said.

He grabbed her and pushed her into the trunk, hit her once, twice to shock her, then quickly gagged her. The thrill of taking her in a public parking lot, without drugs, just by being smart and fast, excited him. He tied her hands behind her and slammed the trunk closed.

No one saw anything. Forty-five seconds had passed.

He drove off, heart racing, his prize in the trunk.

She was unconscious when he got home, which helped. No one would be able to hear her, and it was dark enough now that no one could see him carry her inside.

He stripped her naked and tied her to the bed. He removed the gag, then glued it on. She stirred a bit, but didn’t open her eyes.

And then he watched.

“You’re so beautiful, Becca,” he said softly, almost reverently.

Becca and Angie were completely different. Angie had brown hair she’d dyed blond, big tits, and a tattoo. She was coarse and crude, and posted disgusting things online for everyone in the world to see that she was a slut.

Becca was pure, smooth, small breasts and a slender body. Sweet and kind, always smiled at him. He wondered how it would feel, how different than Angie. He would be gentle with Becca because she wasn’t the slut Angie was. He would be kind and considerate. Like he would have been with Randi if she hadn’t said no.

“They always say no.”

The voice of his father echoed in his mind. His dad hadn’t been talking to him. He’d been talking to his mother, but he’d been eavesdropping.

He’d been nine at the time and his father had just come home. He’d been in prison for rape. He hadn’t known what that meant when his father first left, but over the next four years he’d learned exactly what it meant. It was all his mother ever talked about.

“Why don’t you just pay a fucking whore?” his mother had shouted at his dad.

“I don’t pay for it.”

“You just paid four years for it!”

He was in the living room watching television, but he heard everything because his parents hadn’t closed their bedroom door.

“You liked it last time. You love it when I tell you all about it.”

“You’re going to be thrown in jail again.”

His father laughed, a loud bellow, and then there were other sounds. The bed creaking, slaps, moans. His parents were having sex. He listened to the sounds of sex outside the bedroom door.

“Do you want to watch next time?” his father asked.

He hadn’t realized his father had seen him. He stood in the doorway, his jeans unbuttoned.

He shook his head but his father laughed and ruffled his head. “Sure you do, kid. You have to learn somehow.”

And his dad walked out of the house.

His mother came out of the bedroom in a robe and kicked him. “Fucking pervert, just like your father. You’re going to end up in prison, too, mark my words, unless you listen to me. Stay away from women who say they want it. They’re lying, and they’ll whip around and cry rape the minute your back is turned.”