Bleed Blue 69: Twenty-Five Authors…One Sexy Police Station Page 11

Her hand came up to stop me. “I know it isn’t. I know you. And I get it, I do, I understand your fear. I’m the only one who does, and I’ve never doubted what you believe. But I’m not afraid, Cian. I can, and always have, taken care of myself and there’s no doubt in my mind that if someone is after the women in your life, they’re going to be in for way more than they bargained for with me.”

  I fell back in my chair. Despite our open talks on this issue in the past, I hadn’t expected her easy candor.

  Kendra Connor was the only one in all of Precinct 69 who believed me when I suspected someone was killing off my girlfriends, one by one.

  The deaths themselves had all been deemed non-suspicious. All accidents, no evidence of foul play, and no witnesses tying anyone else to the scenes of their deaths.

  Lana had been my first serious relationship following my contemptuous divorce with erratic Mina. She worked for the District Attorney’s office as a paralegal. I first saw her in court for a trial where I was the lead detective. Later, I ended up beside her at the countertop of a nearby diner, both of us weary of the hours in the courtroom. We talked for hours. We ended that night, and many nights for several months, in my bed.

  The official cause of death had been drowning. They’d found Lana washed up on the shore of the Long Island Sound, after having been missing for several days. When I insisted she wasn’t even in Long Island that week, the other detectives exchanged sad looks. Probably assumed she’d been cheating on me.

  Annette had worked at the coffee shop I stopped in each morning at the start of my shift. Her consistent presence each morning became an immediate comfort in my life, a constant I didn’t realize I’d needed after the turmoil of losing Lana. I didn’t ask her out for several months, and even then, I held her at arm’s length, still grieving Lana.

  We were together almost a year before she slipped and fell down the stairs of her apartment building. The official cause of death was a broken neck.

  I began to wonder if I was cursed. The only three serious relationships I’d had in his life had ended in divorce or death.

  Kendra was the one who set me up with Katrina. Annette had been gone nearly six months by this time, and Kendra feigned annoyance at my nihilistic outlook on dating. Unlike the others, she hadn’t outright dismissed my claims that something was amiss, but she also saw nothing to be gained in not moving on and continuing to live.

  Katrina worked for the mayor. We’d met her at the start of one of the most prolific cases any of us had worked, a serial killer stalking and killing single mothers. Daily press conferences became the norm, and Katrina was often the one tasked with conversing with the detectives and the chief beforehand to decide what we should and should not share with the public.

  When Katrina was found in her apartment dead of an overdose of Xanax and alcohol, I no longer thought I was cursed. I believed someone was deliberately targeting me.

  To my relieved surprise, Kendra believed it, too. I didn’t know your other girls that well, Dunne, but I knew Katrina. She wasn’t depressed. She wasn’t a drug user. None of this adds up.

  Oh, it adds up. I’m the common denominator.

  But you didn’t do it.

  No. So who did?

  I had no answers. I’d put hundreds of criminals behind bars, some of whom had served their time and been released. An equal number had been acquitted and still walked the streets with a chip on their shoulder. I had no shortage of enemies. Although investigating homicides was my livelihood, I couldn’t use department resources to solve cases the team had never been assigned to begin with.

  Without resources or support, outside of Kendra, I saw only one choice in the matter. Whoever was doing this, and whatever their motive, they could only come after my girlfriends if I had one. If I didn’t date, no one could get hurt. This decision turned out to be easier than I expected. I’m married to my career.

  “Stop disappearing,” Kendra accused, but gently. “You spend too much time in your own head. That’s a pretty dark place sometimes.”

  “I’ve put you in danger,” I said finally. I paced the floor behind my chair. “I wish we hadn’t done that. Not because I didn’t want to, because Lord knows I did. I’ve wanted you for years.”

  Kendra’s face softened. Her lips tightened into a sad smile. “I knew that. I’ve spent every day, and most nights, by your side for five years. You think I didn’t?”

  My socked feet swished across the linoleum. I came to a stop behind her chair and dropped my face into her hair, breathing deep. “I would die if anything happened to you, K.”

  Kendra tilted her face back until our lips touched. “Nothing will. I can shoot even better than you, Dunne.”

  We spent the rest of the morning in bed. Around eight, both our phones blew up in tandem.

  The task force was supposed to have two days off following the completion of the Devore case. After months of round-the-clock surveillance, witnesses, and following leads and tips, we were all worn out and bone tired, but still running high on the adrenaline of a major crime solved. Captain Estrella Miranda had all but ordered us to leave, and we did, watching wistfully as case files were loaded into boxes and pictures un-tacked from walls.

  “Fantastic,” Kendra whispered as we both rolled to check our texts.

  A body had been found in a dumpster behind Grand Central. Female. Mid to late twenties. Possible strangulation.

  I called it in. Their captain answered on the first ring. “Aren’t there others who can take this one?”

  “Negative,” Miranda said, sounding as disappointed to be giving the news as we were to receive it. “The rest of the department was stretched thinner than a crepe when we moved twenty of you to the Devore task force. They’re all assigned out.”

  I rubbed my thumb over the stubble on my chin. “All right. I’ll leave in ten.”

  “Great. Sorry about this. You deserved the break.”

  “You’re right. You can still do me a favor.”

  The captain sighed. “What?”

  “Connor gets the morning off. I’ll handle this one myself for the day. I’ll need time to get the download from the responding officers anyway.”

  Kendra’s eyes flew open wide in indignant anger. I flashed her a knowing smile, one that said, You can’t say anything without giving away the fact that you’re in my bed.

  “Fine for now. Depending on what you find, we’ll need both of you on it by tomorrow, though.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “You gonna let her know, or should I?” Miranda’s tone indicated she knew precisely how Detective Connor would respond to being at the end of this “favor.”

  I winked at my very angry partner. “Oh, I’ve got this one.”

  Once the phone was dead, Kendra threw a pillow at me, knocking my glasses crooked. “Not cool, Dunne.”

  I feigned innocence. “Huh?”

  “That’s not how we do things. You’ve never pulled rank, or made me feel like I can’t hold my own.” Her face flushed red, but she also bit back a smile. “Just because we slept together does not mean you get to go and act protective of me.”

  I leaned in and kissed her, lingering several moments.

  Kendra huffed. “Still not okay.”

  “Just for today,” I promised. I tried to hide how relieved I was that she’d only put up a mild fight. I’d seen her nuclear side; I couldn’t win if it emerged. “If we’re going to do this, I need to figure out a way to open an investigation on the other deaths without getting myself fired. I have an idea, but I need to see if I’m still owed a favor or two. I know I can’t keep you here forever, so I need the day to sort this out. To think. And I can’t do that if….” I crawled across the bed on all fours and flipped her on her back, pinning her.

  Kendra grinned at me, drawing the sheet lower and lower. Five years it had taken me to make this move. Five years I’d loved her. “If I’m distracting you with my unending charms?”

  I didn’t kiss her this time. Instead
I wrapped her in my arms and squeezed tight. “Just promise me, K. Just today. Please.”

  Something in my voice killed her smile. “Sure. Okay, Dunne.”

  Kendra

  Dunne had another thing coming if he thought Kendra Connor was going to stay put like an obedient child. I wasn’t angry with him… I understood the nature of his fears and even believed they were grounded in something real. But I would not let this psychopath hold us in suspended animation.

  We had an unspoken policy of open communication. Always had, and as long as we were partners (which was likely not much longer, once we told Miranda they were dating), we always would. Yet once I began to suspect who was behind the murders of Dunne’s girlfriends, I’d kept my hypothesis between myself and God. If I was wrong, he might never trust me again. If I was right, his life would never be the same.

  Dunne might blame poor judgment for how we ended up in the sheets, but I now and always would claim I was in possession of my full faculties when I led him back to his apartment, my palm pressed into his, eyes brimming with invitation. To me, it was simple: We’d danced this dance far too long. We were either in it, or we weren’t. Given how Cian’s goal had evolved to solving the problem of his disappearing girlfriends, rather than shutting me out and continuing to deny his feelings, it seemed like we were definitely “in it.”

  There was no way he was solving this conundrum on his own, though.

  Good thing I had a plan.

  Time was my first hurdle to overcome.

  With Dunne’s prior girlfriends, it had been anywhere from months to a year before they met their untimely ends. I wasn’t too keen on waiting for an unidentified deadline to pass, or looking over my shoulder until something happened. The only option was to lure the murderer out and force their hand.

  I had looked back on the other three victims and searched for any common denominators, outside of, of course, their connection to Dunne.

  In the looks department, Lana, Annette, and Katrina could not be more disparate. A petite redhead, a busty blonde, and a rather lanky brunette. They were all intelligent, degreed women with promising careers. All lived in Manhattan. None drove a car. Lana liked romantic comedies, which I recalled Cian suffering through. Annette preferred classics, and Katrina could not be bothered with pop culture.

  None of these things posed a motive, as far as I could find (except possibly the rom coms).

  I considered the timing of the murders themselves. There was nothing significant going on in the lives of the women at the time of their deaths. No major professional changes, no family trauma. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except…

  It had taken me months, but I had it.

  All three women had died just as they were preparing to take the step of moving in with Dunne.

  Once I had what I was sure was the answer, I was ready. I knew how I felt about Dunne, and was tired of hiding it, constantly, always, around the clock. He would be furious if he knew I was almost literally knocking on danger’s door, but he would never relax until he was free of his fear. And I valued my own life enough to get this sorted before jumping in with both feet.

  With a deep, resolved sigh, I picked up the phone.

  Convincing the suspect to invite me over for drinks had been no difficult feat. I had played my hand early, claiming I wanted to “get some advice,” before moving in with Cian. Never mind that I had no intentions of moving in with Dunne. She only needed the suspect to think I did.

  When the person on the other line suggested coming to my place, I countered that my place was a mess. How about mine? sang the other line, almost too eager, and we had our date.

  I straightened my hair in the mirror, and swabbed on a shock of red lipstick. If I was to play the part, I had to look the part. I had to be effective bait.

  I checked the clip in my Glock and tucked it into the back of my trousers. Patting the inside of my blazer, I confirmed the cuffs were secure.

  I didn’t need anyone to save me. I’d raced down and tackled down grown men pumped up on adrenaline and amphetamines. This would be easy in comparison.

  On the other hand, I hadn’t excelled at my career by employing errant foolishness.

  I found a spiral notebook, bent and abused, on the breakfast bar, and left Cian a brief note. Trace me, it said.

  Dunne wouldn’t be back until nightfall. If by some terrible twist of fate I wasn’t there to greet him, he would know what to do.

  I stepped into the early evening air, a crisp mix of an approaching storm and the startling scent of ice cold wind. I pulled my pea coat to a tight close, buttoning it around the bottom of my face, tucking my blonde hair into the wool to better insulate myself. I never complained about the cold the way other New Yorkers often did. I loved everything about this city, from the weather to the history to the eclectic mix of culture and prestige. Born on Long Island, I never had any designs of leaving my city. Nothing could chase me away.

  All the more reason to put the problem of Dunne’s girlfriends to bed.

  I didn’t pull a car from the motor pool. This was not official police business, at least not yet, and if I was wrong I might get a mark on my flawless record. Besides, parking on the Upper East Side was an adventure in and of itself, and if by some twist of fate the suspect saw me in a department car, I had no doubt that would send off warning bells. The suspect knew I was a cop, but she didn’t know she was being set up. I didn’t want to get made until I was ready for the fallout.

  As I flagged a cab, the first flakes from a winter storm landed in a dust on my black jacket. I sighed with pleasure as I slid onto the crumbling leather seat and gave the address.

  The cabbie grunted. “Hope you ain’t in a hurry. The tree’s going up tonight. We’ll never get past Rockefeller.”

  I scrunched my mouth tight, thinking. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to show up to this particular date late. Add some frustration to the mix to draw out my suspect’s anger. “How long do you think?”

  “An extra thirty minutes. Maybe more.”

  I waved a hand at him. “Not a problem.” Secretly, and despite the importance of my mission, I looked forward to being stalled in front of Rockefeller Plaza. I hadn’t had the pleasure of attending the tree ceremony since my college days. I had worked through every one since.

  The cab drive tilted his head and put the car in gear. “Your money.”

  I leaned my head back against the rest and closed my eyes, falling into practiced meditation. I envisioned the words I would say to my suspect. How my suspect might respond. The various ways in which my suspect might show her stripes.

  “Lookie.” The cabbie whistled and I opened my eyes to see a throng of bundled onlookers along West 51st all the way to West 48th and beyond. Live music carried across the cold night as those gathered sang and swayed. The sky was alive with sparkling lights from the tree that, even now, years later, looked to me to be the biggest and most beautiful tree in all the world.

  I resolved then and there that next year Cian and I would go, together.

  My actions tonight would ensure we could.

  I stepped out on E. 65th and evaluated the row of brownstones. I would never, not in this line of work, be able to afford one myself, and didn’t think the individual I had come to visit could afford to, either. Why Dunne never questioned this only further reinforced the blinders he’d always had to those around him.

  I took a deep breath and rang the bell.

  A lovely, dark-haired woman with soft features answered the door holding two half-filled wine glasses. I had met Dunne’s ex-wife only a handful of times over the years, but I would have known her anywhere. “Hello Mina. Thanks for having me over.”

  “The pleasure is certainly mine!” Mina exclaimed, sloshing a small spot of red wine on the central carpet as she thrust one of the glasses into my hand. She seemed oblivious to her mess. “Come in. How long has it been?”

  “Oh, no thank you,” I said quickly. “I’m on call.” This wasn’t tru
e, thanks to Dunne’s maneuvering with Miranda, but I didn’t at all trust whatever was in the glass Mina Dunne was so eager for me to drink.

  Mina’s face fell. “Water, then? I have sparkling. Your favorite.”

  And how did she know that? “I’m fine, really. I don’t intend to stay long.”

  “Oh?” Mina’s disappointment settled deeper into the fine lines on her face. She gestured toward the living room and pointed to a loveseat. “So you and Cian, huh? Took him long enough. Even when we were married, I suspected he had a thing for you. Too noble to act on it, though. You know Cian.”

  “Yes, I do,” I said politely. I enacted a careful scan of the room, evaluating the contents and the proximity of anything that could be used as a weapon against me. It was important to understand the setting of what may end up in an arrest—or worse.

  “What is it you’d like to know?” Mina, too, sent her gaze around the room. I took note of it. Was she hiding a weapon? If there had, indeed, been poison in the wine, did she have a backup plan?

  I feigned nervousness, but the blush in my cheeks was genuine. Even thinking of Cian’s deep Irish dimples and youthful laugh sent my stomach in happy knots. “I really like him. I’ve had feelings for a long time, and then last night… well….”

  Mina’s eyes darkened and then, with a jolt, she smiled. “I see. How wonderful.”

  “And, you know, like you said, there have been feelings there for a long time, and so now that things are moving, they’re um… well, really moving.” I inwardly rolled my eyes at how silly I must look and sound. Only someone as self-absorbed as Mina would miss this for the act it was.

  “Moving?”

  “He asked me to move in.”

  Mina’s fingers turned white on the flute of her red wine, which she hadn’t touched. She set down the glass with a deliberateness that suggested extreme self-control. “In the house he and I lived in together?”

  “He inherited it from his parents,” I couldn’t help remarking, falling slightly out of character in my defensiveness.