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Bobby was in the belly of an old beat-up truck when his phone rang on his hip. He was regretting coming back to work so soon, but he’d thought that being here would keep his mind off his loss. Poor Gil was home alone and will be for the next few days, at least. He’d promised the other man that he’d help him with the funeral arrangements and stuff to help ease the burden.
Now that he was away from the house and Gil, his mind was much clearer, and he wondered at the strangeness of the last couple of days. If someone had told him a few weeks ago that he’d be this close to his lover’s husband, would even share a woman with him, he’d have laughed in their face for the fool they are.
He’d never felt guilty about screwing Melissa before, until now. Now that he’d spent some time with Gil had seen the man’s sorrow at losing the wife he loved, he hated himself for the part he played in deceiving him.
He’d always thought the other man was a fool, especially when the whole town knew that he Bobby was screwing his wife in his bed, everyone including Gil. But now he realized the other man had probably put up with it because he loved his wife that much. Bobby wasn’t sure he could do the same if the shoe were on the other foot.
He wasn’t surprised when he saw that it was the police calling. He figured they’d be on his ass for the next little while, and since he had nothing to hide and wanted to know the truth about what had happened to Melissa, he had no problems with that. It was the least he could do for her after all, she and Gil.
Even though they hadn’t talked about it, he knew that in most cases like this, the husband was the first one they looked at. But since he was convinced that Gil had nothing to do with what happened to Melissa, he wasn’t about to let the other man get hung out to dry. So he answered the call confidently.
Her call to Bobby had been a dead end, he claimed not to know anything about the notes, but she’d still asked him to come in so they could test his handwriting to be sure. It didn’t make sense for him to hide it since the notes were not threatening or inflammatory in any way, but it didn’t hurt to be careful.
For the next few hours, Celia poured over everything they had while waiting for the tech team to call her back. Meanwhile, across town, the killer was going about the day business as usual. It was getting easier to get rid of these little nuisances that kept cropping up from time to time. Reliving the latest kill made the juices start to flow the way they always do after a successful extermination, and the killer went in search of relief.
Don picked his head up when his office door opened, and he saw who was standing there. His dick got hard instantly at the look on her face. He knew that look had seen it since he was a very young boy and knew what lay behind it. He pressed the button to lock the door so that they wouldn’t be disturbed and pushed back from his desk, already releasing his cock for what was to come.
CHAPTER 23
“Say, do you think maybe we’re looking at this thing all wrong? Maybe our victim wasn’t chosen personally; maybe the killing was just a matter of convenience like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You know, random.”
“What makes do you say that?” Detective Sparks didn’t pick her head up from the notes she’d been perusing for the last half an hour or so when she answered Officer Bailey.
“Well, so far we haven’t found anything among her personal belongings that gives us any indication that she’s met with anyone who’d want to do something like that to her. And look at the way she was laid out, didn’t it strike you as some kind of ritualistic killing?”
“Or the killer could’ve wanted us to think just that, throw us off the scent.”
“But, nothing else seems to gel. There isn’t even a hint of anything to go on, to tie Melissa Sherry to someone who’s capable of something like this. Think about it. She grew up here, lived her whole life here, never traveled beyond the county line except for her honeymoon, which was too many years ago to matter. We’ve gone through everything, and still, there’s nothing pointing us in the right direction.” She didn’t answer, so he went with his train of thought.
“I think we’re going to find that this person is some kind of religious nut who has it out for women who do what she did for a living. Some holier than thou fruitcake with a strong hate for anything they deem immoral.” The more he said it, the better it sounded to him. What else could it be really? The hours spent going over everything only solidified his belief that they were going around in circles needlessly.
