Page 44 of Done Dirty

“No, nothing like that,” Jack said. “We’re working another case and just need to ask some questions.”

“Oh,” he said, and then yelled, “Sheri, there are cops here to see you.”

“What?” a woman’s voice called out from somewhere in the back. Then it came closer. “Did you say cops?”

Sheri Downs appeared in the doorway of the bedroom dressed in black leggings and a sports bra. She had the defined musculature of someone who was doing significantly more than Pilates.

She also fit the profile of Wade’s love interests. Long dark hair that came to mid-waist, framing a heart-shaped face. Dark, hooded eyes and full lips.

“What’s going on?” she asked. Then she gasped. “Did someone die? Is my dad okay?”

“Your dad is fine,” Jack reassured her. “We’re here about Wade Rivers.”

“Oh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Did he get arrested for being a creep? He deserves whatever he gets.”

“He was murdered,” Jack said.

She stared at him in shock and then blew out a breath. “Well, I can’t say I’m sorry.”

“Geez, Sheri,” the guy said. “The guy is dead.”

“I’m not going to be a hypocrite. He was a horrible human being. When you live the kind of life he did and piss the wrong people off, sometimes these things happen. I’m just saying I’m not surprised he’s dead.”

“That’s what we want to talk to you about,” Jack said.

“Sure, but I’ve got to leave for work soon,” she said. “Just so you know.”

“Do you need me to stay?” the guy asked. Then he turned to us. “Sorry, I’m Dean Hasker. Sheri’s boyfriend.”

“No,” she said. “You’ve got a meeting, and I’m sure this won’t take long. I haven’t seen Wade in over a year.”

Dean kissed her goodbye and left the condo.

“Have a seat,” she said. “Like I said, I’ve got clients soon so I can’t stay long.”

“Are you still teaching Pilates?” I asked.

“No, I’m doing personal training,” she said. “It’s what I really love, and Titan Fitness lets me train and have as many clients as I want through their membership program.”

“That’s a great gym,” Jack said, taking a seat on the couch. “Within walking distance from here.”

“Another reason I love it.” She sat in the chair across from us. “So what do you need from me?”

“Tell us about your relationship with Wade,” Jack said.

“We dated for a couple of months about a year ago.” She paused, seeming to weigh how much to say. “He was charming. Polite. Drop-dead sexy. He made me feel like the most interesting person in the room. He’d find reasons to work alongside me, stay late, talk shop after everyone had gone home. He remembered things I mentioned in passing and brought them back up days later. It felt like being seen by someone who really paid attention. Opened doors for me, never looked at his phone while we were talking. The chemistry was off the charts. Just being in the same space with him made it hard to suck in oxygen, and the flirting got more intense. He made me feel important. That alone was enough for me to be interested. Men don’t really do those things anymore.”

She toyed with the ends of her hair. “Then he asked me to dinner. Came here to pick me up. I’d bought a new dress, and was already thinking about what a future would look like.” Her smile was sad. “He knocked on the door, and as soon as I opened it I had a brief thought that things could go bad. But I ignored the thought. We never made it to dinner. We didn’t surface for two days.

“Once sex was introduced to the equation things accelerated quickly. It was a haze of lust. That’s really the only way to describe it. He was insatiable. Like three or four times a day. It had a compulsive quality, like he had to have sex like he had to breathe. There was a darkness underneath it that I kept telling myself was passion.” She shook her head. “Then I started questioning myself, wondering if I was enough for him. Wondering if I satisfied him or pleased him in bed. I was a mess by the end of it.”

“Did you know he was using steroids?” I asked.

“I figured it out before too long,” she said. “He was a fanatic about his body. Totally obsessed with how he looked. I figured that was contributing to his sex drive. I asked him why he was taking them and he didn’t deny it. He told me he’d been in some kind of accident and his muscles had atrophied, so he’d been taking them to help build them back.”

“You know where he got it?” he asked.

“No idea,” she said. “It sounded like he’d been taking it for years. I just figured he’d gotten it from his doctor.”