Caridad Pineiro - Darkness Calls

He didn’t. On the contrary, as they discussed the case his intelligence and observations impressed her as did his willingness to offer information on his various employees and, at times, himself. She stored away each nugget of information, using them to construct a better picture of the man sitting before her.

He was a loner. A man who had experienced great loss and still bore the weight of it in a heart that sought respite. She understood such loss. She had experienced it herself and, like Ryder, still carried scars within her that hadn’t healed. And, like Ryder, a part of her hoped someone would help ease the burden and heal the wounds. But two injured people…it didn’t bode well for a happy ending, she thought.

“Any ex-employees who might harbor a grudge? Maybe want to hurt you and the club by choosing its patrons as targets?” she asked, trying to pull away from what she was feeling and return to her role as investigator.

Ryder shrugged. To have enemies one had to have friends. Ryder had neither, only his companion Melissa Danvers. His employees were just that and nothing more, as were his lawyer and other business associates. “No one. I try to be fair, Ms. Reyes.”

Tired of her questioning, he asked, “What do you think this killer is like? What makes him tick?”

Diana leaned back in her chair, considering him as if she wasn’t quite sure if she could trust him. But he also sensed something else…interest. Unwanted attraction on her part. Her eyes narrowed and then she began her explanation. “He obviously has a lot of anger toward women. He acts out that anger by ritualistically torturing his victims.”

Ryder nodded. “I noticed the cuts from the pictures,” he said.

“Mmm. He likes hurting them,” she continued. “I think he makes sure that they are aware of what he plans to do. That gives him power. That gives him the ability to…He probably can’t function sexually without that.”

“Not much of a man,” Ryder intoned, and stood, stretching out the kinks in his back from the hours of sitting. “Please continue,” he said. She described the motivating force for the killer, the likely age of the suspect and how she believed he spent time choosing his victims before he finally took them away to be tortured and killed. As she spoke, he walked away from her and paced the small open space to the right of her desk. His movement took him past the window, which faced the water and provided a view of the East River and the Narrows. At night, it would give her a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty and the ferries going to and from Staten Island. He suspected she had been there more than one night to see those sights.

On the ledge of the window there was an assortment of orchids, some in full exotic bloom. Fussy, fragile flowers. Not at all like their owner. She was strong and capable. Resilient and yet…wounded, he thought. He wanted to understand those hurts. Help heal them, he thought as he continued to listen to her report.

“Mr. Latimer?” she questioned. He realized she had asked him a question that he had obviously missed during his musings.

“First of all, let’s make it Ryder if we’re going to be working together,” he said, wanting to break down some of the barriers between them.

She hesitated but finally relented. “Ryder it is then, as long as you call me Diana.”

“I’m sorry, Diana, for ignoring you, but I think I need a break.”

“I asked if you wanted to get some dinner. There’s a little Italian place two blocks away where we can grab a bite and then head to your club.” She rattled off the name of the restaurant.

Ryder nodded, although the bite he intended to grab was way different than what Diana had just proposed. “I just need to make a call first,” he said, and she offered the use of her phone. He declined. “It’s personal.”

Her expressive gold-green eyes widened, and she surprised him by giving him an amused grin. “Sorry to make you cancel a hot date. I need to freshen up, anyway, so I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She rose and left the room, leaving Ryder in privacy, but not to cancel a hot date. On the contrary, he needed to make plans for an ice-cold bag of blood.

He reached to his side, removed his cell phone from the clip on his belt and picked up the framed snapshot of her family. Her mother, father and brother stood close to a younger Diana. All were smiling. He replaced the frame on her desk, depressed the number one on his phone and held it until Danvers answered with a soft, almost annoyed “Yes, Ryder.”

“I need you to bring a snack.” He gave Melissa the name and address of the restaurant. “I’ll try to stall for about half an hour or so to give you time to get there. Beep me when you’re ready, and I’ll meet you inside the men’s room.”

“Oh, come on. Not the men’s room again,” Melissa complained, but Ryder just laughed and reiterated his request.

“Yeah, although I think I should get paid extra for the men’s room,” she joked. Over the years of servitude Ryder had not provided visible remuneration to the various Danvers who had assisted him. They served Ryder as a family tradition and out of friendship. Occasionally Ryder provided funds for things like Melissa’s schooling.

“I’ll put something extra in this week’s envelope,” he answered, and heard her laugh before her tone turned serious.

“So how was she—” A knock at the door precluded any additional discussion. “Gotta run,” Ryder said, and pushed the end button on the cellular, cutting Melissa off midsentence. Diana waited hesitantly by the door until he motioned her in.

She entered, went immediately to her desk, unlocked her drawer, removed her holster and gun, and slipped them onto the back waistband of her pants. As she reached behind her, the fabric of her shirt pulled against her breasts, and Ryder couldn’t help but appreciate that though she was slender and petite, she managed to have curves in all the right places.

As her gaze met his, she colored a becoming shade of pink and quickly dropped her hands to work at tucking in the hem of the soft cotton top. Without saying a word, she stalked to the door and grabbed her coat, leaving Ryder to follow her hurried flight down the hall and toward the elevator.

She angrily punched the down button and waited, her foot tapping the floor in irritation. Her arms were crossed against those very enticing breasts, and Ryder couldn’t resist baiting her, intrigued by her passion. “Angry at something?”

“Mr. Latimer—”

“It was Ryder a few minutes ago, Diana.” She shot him a glare over her shoulder.

“Ryder,” she started, her tone brusque, “I don’t appreciate you ogling me, especially if we’re going to be working together.”

“Darlin’—” he began, but she cut him off by raising her hand.

“I am not your darlin’, or sweetheart, or whatever else it is that you good ol’ Southern boys call your lady folk.”

He laughed.

“Well, okay then, Ms. Reyes,” he said, putting undue emphasis on the Ms. “As a man, it is, unfortunately, an inherent part of my nature to notice a very attractive woman when I see one. So, my apologies for noticing you.”

Diana turned and faced him, searching for a way to counter his last statement without sounding like a total bitch, but he had effectively trapped her. “Touché, Ryder. I can see that I am going to have to watch myself around you.”

Ryder smiled, broadly and unrepentantly. There was something about his smile that tempered her anger and started a slow curl of warmth in parts she’d rather not have warmed.

“Darlin’, that is a shame,” he said, and again she found herself jumping as he pulled imaginary strings.

“And why is that, Ryder?”