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“Can you pull the credit card receipt?”
“There wasn’t one. I broke a crisp new hundred-dollar bill for them, that’s why I remember. They let me keep the change to fifty. No one does that here.”
“How about the girl?” Kay asked. “Was she in a good mood?”
He frowned for a moment, looking in the direction of the table where they’d sat. “Y—yes, she was, but not at first. She seemed tense, a tad grim or maybe shy, but they cheered her up quickly. They seemed to know each other well.”
They knew her well. They were younger than she’d profiled. Those were rock solid leads she could use to narrow down a list of suspects.
“Did anyone sit at that table after them?” Elliot asked.
Dwayne pressed his lips together and nodded. “I wipe it clean every night, with disinfectant. I’m sorry, but if you’re looking for prints, they’re long gone.”
A moment’s silence, while Kay gave her next steps some thought. A sketch artist should probably be able to generate some composites within an hour at the most. Then she could show the composites to Jenna’s mother and Kendra’s parents, teachers at school, anyone who could’ve met the two young men and could identify them. Maybe they picked Jenna up from school a couple of times. Or Kendra.
Perhaps they were seniors at that school themselves. Or recent grads.
She checked the time; it was still early, not even seven. Then she remembered it was Saturday. Otherwise, she would’ve taken Dwayne and had him stand in front of the school as kids came in, asking him to pick the two young men out of a very long and unsuspecting lineup.
But a yearbook might do the trick.
“One of them said something about the chairlift that got my attention,” Dwayne said, looking out the window with concern as cars were starting to fill the first line. Soon he’d have customers. “The taller one, he said he knew someone at lift maintenance who would take the three of them up on the mountain, free of charge. It sounded weird to me, because the chairlift doesn’t run in the summer. Only after the first serious snow covers the slopes.”
Kay gave him her card. “You’ve been very helpful, Dwayne. If you remember anything, please call us. I’ll have the sketch artist here in about thirty minutes.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
URGES
Alexandria tossed and turned for a while, unable to fall asleep. The sheets felt hot to the touch, unbearably so. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her chest, urging her to rid herself of the silk nightgown she was wearing. The threat of a migraine circled above her head like a vulture, unrelenting. At about five thirty, she opened the window and let the chilly morning air fill her room, welcoming the breeze.
The phone chimed and woke her up, seemingly seconds after she’d dozed off, but she’d been asleep for about an hour. It was daylight outside; a narrow sunbeam pierced through the curtains, dancing on the pattern of the thick Oriental rug.
She sat on the side of the bed, easily ridding herself of any slumber remnants when she saw the sender of the message.
I’m naked on the bed, the message read,ready for you. C’mon, babe, have mercy on me.
A photo followed the message. It was an explicit closeup of a rather imposing erection. The sight of him, hard and lusting for her, sent shivers through her blood; the arousal was instantaneous and unbearably intense. A whimper rose from her constricted throat.
Your place?she typed, not bothering to pretend her sensibilities were shocked by the photo. Their relationship was as basic and as primal as they came; there was no need for lies.
ASAP, baby, the reply came immediately.The things I’d do to you right now…
Energized, she sprung from the bed, immediately realizing she was a bit unsteady on her feet. Remnants of last night’s wine were still coursing through her veins. Regardless, she didn’t hesitate; a cold shower would scatter all that and reinvigorate her mind and body.
She stepped into the shower wincing, anticipating the pain of the cold water. When the first jets sprayed against her heated skin, she gasped, breath caught in her lungs for a long moment, then leaving her chest in a pained groan. Regardless, she gave her hair a thorough shampoo, then rinsed it with a few drops of jasmine conditioner so it would run silky smooth against her lover’s skin.
She didn’t feel the cold anymore; her imagination was running wild, her desire lighting a fire in her blood that couldn’t be extinguished. The thought of Alana crossed her mind as she left the shower, bringing a brief frown to her face. Making quick work of blow-drying her hair, she felt confident Alana wouldn’t even know she’d gone. Her daughter had just come home an hour ago; she’d be asleep like a log until lunchtime at least. There wouldn’t be any difficult questions to be answered.
Standing naked in the middle of the closet, she didn’t hesitate. She knew exactly what she’d wear. A black, strappy, lacy teddy by Cosabella, a shimmering blue satin shirt that matched her eyes, and a black pencil skirt that hugged her hips tightly. Strappy sandals on three-inch heels completed the attire. As a last thought, she grabbed her swimsuit and slid it in her purse. Maybe later they could stop by the beach and take a dip into the cold Pacific waters to soothe the raging fire that burned inside, before it consumed whatever was left of her sanity and common sense.
Less than fifteen minutes later, she rang the doorbell, looking at the imposing residence with a touch of envy. She could tell an architect lived there and had designed the place for himself. Modern lines throughout and a flat roof over a cubist structure with panoramic windows and perspective games in the way walls aligned, luring the viewer inside through a massive pivot door in oak with horizontal accent lines. Nervously biting her lip, she noticed how those lines barred the visitor’s entry if the door was closed, but invited entry when open, aligning with the wide hallway she’d seen before.
The parallel lines shifted as the door opened without making a sound. He stood there naked, hard, grinning at her as she became unexpectedly flustered, hesitant to come in. He reached and grabbed her forearm, pulling her inside, then into a fiery embrace that swept her off her feet. Behind her, the door whooshed to a silent close.
THIRTY-EIGHT
CALLS
