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If only they could stay cocooned here instead of facing the madness awaiting them outside. But the Game Master’s violence was escalating, and time was running out.
As Callan filled the two mugs, he vowed to savor these peaceful interludes with Roseline before duty called them away.
As if his thoughts had summoned her, Callan heard the soft padding of footsteps followed by the sight of Roseline emerging into the kitchen. His breath caught as she came into full view. She had slipped on his discarded shirt from the night before. The hem fell to the middle of her round thighs, the fabric hugging her generous curves. Her hair adorably stuck up at odd angles, and her face was free of any makeup, allowing her natural beauty to shine through. Seeing her standing there looking so effortlessly gorgeous, wearing his shirt no less, made Callan’s heart skip.
“Hey, you,” Roseline said, her voice still husky from sleep. “I wondered where you disappeared to.” She gave him a radiant smile as she approached.
Callan placed the mugs on the counter and opened his arms to envelop her in an embrace. “Just wanted to let you rest,” he murmured into her hair.
As Roseline wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled against his chest, Callan felt like the luckiest man alive. But he noticed a slight tension in her frame, a subtle hesitancy that caused a pang of worry. Did she have regrets about last night?
Gently grasping Roseline by the shoulders, Callan pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. He searched those mesmerizing pale blue eyes for any signs of doubt or remorse. “Roseline…,” he began cautiously. “I know emotions were running high after everything with the case. I would never want you to feel pressured or rushed into physical intimacy before you were rea…”
Before he could finish, Roseline cut him off by pressing a soft finger to his lips. “Shh… you don’t owe anyone an apology,” she assured him. “I wanted last night as much as you did. Probably more than I should have,” she added with a self-conscious little laugh. Reaching up, she cradled Callan’s stubbled cheek in her palm. “I just have some old wounds when it comes to letting my guard down emotionally. It’s difficult for me to feel… vulnerable. But with you, somehow, it feels safer. I trust you, Callan.”
The sincerity and touch of wonder in her voice flooded Callan with relief. Unable to resist, he dipped his head and captured her lips in a slow, tender kiss. Roseline responded, melting against him as the kiss gradually deepened. When they broke apart, both were breathless.
“I meant what I said last night,” Callan told her. “This isn’t just a fling or distraction for me. Since our initial meeting, I’ve been more than casually interested in you. I just never had the nerve to approach you until after we became partners. Then I couldn’t resist the attraction I have for you.”
Roseline’s cheeks flushed at his heartfelt words.
Taking her hand, Callan led them over to the small dining table. As they sat across from each other sipping coffee, the conversation flowed comfortably about lighter topics: favorite books, the places they’d traveled, Roseline’s enduring love of music. For these few minutes at least, they could push aside the darker parts of their reality and enjoy getting to know each other on a deeper level.
Time ticked by, but Roseline was more important to him at this moment. They’d be back on the case soon enough. Neither one of them would be able to avoid it for long.
When their coffee mugs were empty, Roseline stood up to rinse them in the sink as Callan came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.
Roseline sighed and leaned back into his embrace. “We should start making a plan for where to go from here with the case,” she said reluctantly, her tone serious. “We’re running out of time.”
Callan’s grasp tightened instinctively at the reminder of the threats they faced beyond this kitchen. “You’re right,” he conceded with a sigh, his warm breath tickling Roseline’s ear and making her shiver. As much as he longed to block out the darkness a little while longer, they had crucial work to do. Lives depended on them.
Reluctantly extricating himself from Roseline, Callan walked over to retrieve the case files he had left by the front door. When he returned, Roseline had taken a seat at the table. Spreading the various documents and his notebook between them, Callan clicked open a pen and flipped to a blank page.
“Okay, let’s go over what we know so far,” he began, looking to Roseline.
Her expression had shifted, blue eyes serious and mouth set in a determined line. She was no longer his lover from moments before. Now, the mighty computer analyst and Detective Fontenot was in control, her razor-sharp mind ready to dissect the details of this sadistic killer.
“I think our most promising lead still is Gina Garofalo, Vincent’s wife,” Roseline said. “Your initial interview with her gave us some useful insights into his recent paranoid behavior, but I feel like we may have gleaned more if we had approached the questioning differently.”
Callan nodded. “I agree. At the time, I was trying to be delicate with her emotional state since her husband was newly missing. But now that we know the full circumstances around Vincent’s murder, we need to do a deep dive into the timeline leading up to his disappearance and death. There may have been early warning signs he was being targeted that we can try to glean from Gina now.”
“Exactly,” Roseline confirmed. “We should establish a detailed timeline based on her accounts—when did Vincent first start acting strangely? Did he mention anything specific about feeling threatened or being followed? Were there any odd visitors to the house or phone calls? Anything that seemed inconsequential then but could illuminate the Game Master’s pattern now is essential.”
“I’ll call Mrs. Garofalo first thing and see if she can meet with us this morning,” Callan decided.
Roseline nodded, glancing up from the file she was reviewing. “With any luck, she may recall some vital detail that can point us toward discovering the Game Master’s next move. We must get inside his thought process and figure out his endgame before this escalates further.”
“When we get back, you should also file a report detailing what happened on your computer,” Callan said gently.
Her mouth turned down, and she turned ashen. “I’m not sure I want to relive it. Do you think that’s necessary?”
“Absolutely, I do. Beckner needs to be aware of what happened.”
A heavy silence fell between them at that. They both understood the stakes all too well. If they didn’t unravel the Game Master’s pattern in time, more innocent lives would be ruthlessly claimed. This complex adversary didn’t play by any normal rules, though. Just when Callan thought he was beginning to recognize a strategy, the Game Master changed tactics, keeping them guessing. It was a deadly game of chess where every piece served the villain’s manipulation.
Callan scrubbed a hand over his face, the stress gnawing at him. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing someone else to this psychopath’s evil machinations. Most of all, he dreaded any harm coming to Roseline, especially since that madman had contacted her personally. She had already come to mean more to him than he ever expected.
Until her, he had been content with his role as guardian and servant to the city, upholding justice at any cost. It was rewarding but often a lonely path. Letting Roseline past those self-imposed barriers these past weeks reminded Callan there was more to life than duty alone.
