LincolnAs I’m leaving my office for the courthouse, my sergeant calls and asks me to come to his office. I’m in a hurry but take time to give him the rundown on the previous murders in Louisiana. And though it’s a very long shot, I tell him about the prostitute I plan to work a composite sketch with. What was once the glamorous job of an actual artist can now be done on a computer by any detective who’s been trained. A few years ago, I went to a free class taught by the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children to receive my certification. The department bought the software and it’s standard for us to do our own computer-generated photos now. They’re accurate as hell but like I said, a long shot.“I’ve spoken to Officer Wilder’s supervisor and we’re assigning him to assist you for the next two weeks.”I don’t reiterate that this guy’s timeline could include several murders in two weeks. Before that happens, I’ll make the call to the FBI myself. “Thank you, sir. Wilder’s a good
LincolnSeveral hours go by before I have the entire story. I didn’t take a knife off Donald Terry when I searched him. The knife was discovered on Shelby’s coffee table. Blood surged through my veins when I saw it. All I could picture was Shelby’s bloody and lifeless body.I sent two uniformed officers to accompany Terry to the hospital. One called an hour later while I was working with the crime scene techs and told me Terry had tendon damage that will eventually require surgery. Terry is medically cleared to go to jail.Shelby was driven to another hospital to be checked out. She wasn’t happy but I sent a text to her phone from across the room where we were surrounded by officers and evidence techs.Go, for me. PLEASE!She’s now wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which I retrieved from her room. She’s not acting like the crazy wild woman I care so much about and it guts me. She glances down at her phone then turns my way with a forlorn look before walking out the door. A female patrol of
LincolnI have forty-eight hours to deliver my report to the district attorney’s office. They press the formal charges. The next step will be presenting my case to the Grand Jury so they can decide if I have enough evidence to move forward. If I don’t have my report in, Terry walks and the process starts over while he’s a free man.With report and case file in hand, I carry it into the district attorney’s office with time to spare. I bring the entire case file to answer additional questions while the report is reviewed.It goes smoothly. I head to JFCR offices to pick up Shelby. She insisted on going into work and having a normal day. I didn’t tell her it would be far from normal with the media blasting what happened.She looks frazzled and relieved when I walk through the front door. She grabs her purse and leaves a group of people surrounding her desk. “I need to get out of here,” she whispers. I place my arm around her waist and we walk out. “My parents are requesting us at their h
LincolnWe walk into Shelby’s house so she can pack a bag. She removes a few scarves from the assortment spread throughout her home. Daisy is with us. He follows Shelby from room to room refusing to let her out of his sight.When she’s ready, we lock up and head over to my place. I’m carrying two large bags and Shelby has a small one. By the weight of the two bags I hope she’s moving in permanently.I place everything in my bedroom. Shelby carries her smaller bag into the bathroom. I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m still exhausted. I remove my shoes and socks, lie back on the bed face up, and close my eyes. I’m sideways, so my feet are touching the floor.The bed dips a few minutes later when Shelby scoots in beside me. Her lips touch mine and I don’t bother opening my eyes. I reach over, grab her hips, and pull her on top of me. She’s naked and I smile against her lips. I hear a soft whine from the doorway and ignore it. Daisy needs a playmate for just these times. I’ll think ab
LincolnMy parents’ home is a far cry from Shelby’s parents’ mansion. We drive up the dirt road leading to their property. I can tell by Shelby’s smile that she’s already in love. I knew she would be and that’s why I refused to answer any questions about my parents throughout the week.Their Pueblo-style home has orange stuccoed outer walls. There’s an iron gate that leads into a small comfortable courtyard complete with a Mexican chiminea for the cooler winter months.I park and open my door. Shelby waits for me to walk around and help her out, but Daisy has no manners. He jumps down and begins sniffing the desert landscaping. I’m unconcerned. My parents own several acres.The yapping alerts me that the dual terrors are on the attack. They fly out of the courtyard with my mother on their heels. “Come back here you pig-headed bandits,” she yells. They attack Daisy, who has no idea what’s happening. They jump and bite and growl. Daisy looks at me like fleas are attacking on him.“You’r
Lincoln“I loved them,” Shelby sighs wearily on our way home.“They love you too,” I say with absolute conviction.“If it bothers you to talk about it, it’s okay, but I was hoping you would tell me about your brother Rutherford?”The question hangs for a moment. I do my best to keep my voice neutral and not show how much the topic angers me. “He went to Afghanistan, did three tours. The war changed him. He had a best buddy who died over there too. That was bad enough. Then my brother Andrew was murdered while working the border. Rutherford didn’t handle it well to say the least. He didn’t make it home in time for the funeral. He showed up two months later, no longer in the Marines.”“I’m so sorry,” Shelby says.“He went to Mexico to find the men who killed Andrew. It didn’t matter what we all told him. The government was doing everything they could to find and prosecute the drug cartel. He didn’t call my parents for months at a time. My mother was sick with worry, my father furious. H
LincolnI pull out my wallet and toss a few bills on the table. I take her hand and pull her up. “Let’s get out of here,” I say with a soft smile.She laughs, grabs the small black box, and we walk out. I want her at home, in my bed, and crying out my name.“It really is beautiful,” she repeats in the truck.“I wanted something you would wear with all your crazy clothes.”“You love my crazy clothes,” she says with a laugh.“I love you naked more.”Her hand goes to the bulge in my pants and she runs her fingers over the material. I should have asked her at home so we didn’t have the long drive to find privacy. I groan in surprise when Shelby unhooks her seat belt and unzips my pants. I start to say no, but she moves over me too quickly and the last word I’ll ever say when her mouth is on my dick is “No.” I concentrate on driving. It’s not easy.“Can you handle this, big boy?” Her hot breath hits my cock before her warm tongue slides around the head again.“Not fucking easily, but I’ll
Rack The knife wound runs down my side from under my arm to the top of my hip. It burns like a motherfucker, and the tequila does little to stop the pain as the needle sinks into my flesh. The stitches are far from professional, but they’ll do the job and close the skin, keeping muscle and tissue on the inside where they belong. Never strangle a man with a knife in his hand is my new motto. He sliced into my side before I could stop him. He’s dead now and I’m alive, so I’ll take it as a lesson learned. Putting up with Gomez’s shit for my stupidity isn’t helping me feel the love as he stitches me up. “Fuck,” he swears as he wipes his bloody hands on a blood-covered cloth. I look down at myself as he readjusts his grip on the large needle. “You can’t do things halfway, can you?” he taunts as the needle punctures my skin again. I take another pull from the bottle and suck in a breath as he works the needle through the skin on the other side and ties off another stitch. “The son of a b