she skimmed over the little evidence they actually found. In her case, they had found the murder weapon. Looking over the image of the hunting knife he had used, she recounted the description of the murder weapon from the current cases. A single, smooth-edged blade, slightly hooked, approximately 10 inches long. The description fit perfectly. Closing the file, she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Sighing, she realized that she needed to share this file with Matt. She had already mentioned that the killer was most likely the same man who had attacked her family nine years ago. Despite his expertise as a detective, the fact that he hadn’t brought up the case details with her either meant that he hadn’t found them, or, that he was trying to protect her from reliving the incident. The latter made her flush with possibility. Either way, he needed the information she had. Deciding to give him the file tomorrow, she carried it to her brief case and slid it into the inside pocket. Yawning, she decided to try and get some sleep.
Going through the motions, she prepared for bed. Even as she slid between her cool, soft sheets, joined by Bucky, her thighs ached with desire. She tried to release the tension, but she couldn’t imagine her self all the way through the exchange. Her imagination could take her right up to the moment he moved to enter her, but it was there she felt lost. The events of her past made the exchange too dangerous, too wicked, and fear gripped her. What if, when the time came, if the time came, and she wanted that time to come, she couldn’t go through with it? What if the pain and fear and humiliation of the events, so long ago, prevented her from engaging in a relationship with him? Something she now could admit, freely, she wanted more than anything. She marveled how nine years of hating and distrusting all men had come crumbling down in just one week because of just one man. Shivering against her insecurity, she rolled over on her side, pulling the sheets in tight between her legs. Reaching out to pet the tiny dog sleeping beside her, she fell asleep remembering his smell and his warmth, settling for the one thing that she didn’t need to imagine.
Chapter 16
Bucky’s amorous licking had woken her earlier than she had planned. The little bugger dug at her comforter when she had tried to dive under it to escape him. When he wouldn’t give up, she caved and got out of bed. After feeding the little pest, which was apparently exactly what he wanted, she sat drinking her coffee and staring out of her window at the rising glow of dawn. She was getting ready to jump in the shower when her cell phone rang. Answering it, she nearly squealed when Matthew’s voice sounded on the other end. But her girlish glee was washed away when his cold professional tone told her that the coroner’s report was ready. He asked her to meet him for breakfast so they could review it together. She agreed, shooting a glance at the briefcase on her desk. She had something to share, too.
After hanging up, she had showered and dressed quickly. Giving Bucky some fresh water, she made her way to the cafe where they had met the morning before. There he was, sitting stiffly at the exact same table they had shared yesterday. In front of him was his cup and partially eaten breakfast, and another cup of steaming coffee. A flutter lit through her, realizing he had ordered for her. When she pulled the chair out from the table he jumped, having been too enthralled in the coroner’s report to hear her approach. When he didn’t return her smile she pursed her lips and plopped down, preparing herself for the results that had him looking so sour.
“So, you were right. The answering machine was the real clue. The Lyski’s had ligature marks around their wrists and ankles at least seven days old. They were held captive, Elizabeth. Someone else made the coffee and fed the dog, even laid out their clothes.
Going through the motions, she prepared for bed. Even as she slid between her cool, soft sheets, joined by Bucky, her thighs ached with desire. She tried to release the tension, but she couldn’t imagine her self all the way through the exchange. Her imagination could take her right up to the moment he moved to enter her, but it was there she felt lost. The events of her past made the exchange too dangerous, too wicked, and fear gripped her. What if, when the time came, if the time came, and she wanted that time to come, she couldn’t go through with it? What if the pain and fear and humiliation of the events, so long ago, prevented her from engaging in a relationship with him? Something she now could admit, freely, she wanted more than anything. She marveled how nine years of hating and distrusting all men had come crumbling down in just one week because of just one man. Shivering against her insecurity, she rolled over on her side, pulling the sheets in tight between her legs. Reaching out to pet the tiny dog sleeping beside her, she fell asleep remembering his smell and his warmth, settling for the one thing that she didn’t need to imagine.
Chapter 16
Bucky’s amorous licking had woken her earlier than she had planned. The little bugger dug at her comforter when she had tried to dive under it to escape him. When he wouldn’t give up, she caved and got out of bed. After feeding the little pest, which was apparently exactly what he wanted, she sat drinking her coffee and staring out of her window at the rising glow of dawn. She was getting ready to jump in the shower when her cell phone rang. Answering it, she nearly squealed when Matthew’s voice sounded on the other end. But her girlish glee was washed away when his cold professional tone told her that the coroner’s report was ready. He asked her to meet him for breakfast so they could review it together. She agreed, shooting a glance at the briefcase on her desk. She had something to share, too.
After hanging up, she had showered and dressed quickly. Giving Bucky some fresh water, she made her way to the cafe where they had met the morning before. There he was, sitting stiffly at the exact same table they had shared yesterday. In front of him was his cup and partially eaten breakfast, and another cup of steaming coffee. A flutter lit through her, realizing he had ordered for her. When she pulled the chair out from the table he jumped, having been too enthralled in the coroner’s report to hear her approach. When he didn’t return her smile she pursed her lips and plopped down, preparing herself for the results that had him looking so sour.
“So, you were right. The answering machine was the real clue. The Lyski’s had ligature marks around their wrists and ankles at least seven days old. They were held captive, Elizabeth. Someone else made the coffee and fed the dog, even laid out their clothes.
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