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There was something in his voice then that had me examining his stupidly handsome face.
“You think I have a reason to be,” I concluded.
Caught off-guard, he couldn’t school his features quickly enough. The look of surprise that melted into concern told me all I needed to know.
“You think he wants to finish this,” I added, stomach tightening, making me wish I hadn’t eaten the pizza after all.
“Our profiler believes that, mostly because of the photographs, that not having it… complete to his satisfaction is going to sexually frustrate him.”
“And choosing another victim wouldn’t fix that, because the photo series would still be unfinished,” I said.
“You coulda been a cop,” he told me, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Yes. That’s the conclusion we are working on, anyway. I want to have a cruiser sit at your work,” he said.
“Okay,” I agreed, deciding it was likely my most vulnerable place.
Sure, it was a niche sort of business, but anyone could walk inside. And even more could hang around outside without any cause to call the police on them.
It would make me feel better to know someone would hear me if I screamed.
“That was easier than I’d anticipated,” Wells said, smiling. “Want some coffee?” he asked as he made his way to the machine. “Or is it too late?” he added. “I can drink a whole pot and go right to sleep,” he admitted.
“No, coffee sounds good,” I said.
I prepared Matilda’s dinner, and she ate with gusto after all the exercise.
Boss took the opportunity to go curl up on his inner tube-sized bed, dead tired.
Surprising me, after she finished eating, Matilda went in search for her new friend, then curled up with him.
“Now I feel bad that she’s an only child,” I said, cradling my coffee cup as I watched the two of them.
“Anytime she wants to hang with Boss, she is welcome. And in case it wasn’t clear, so are you,” he said.
The rest of the evening was nice.
We watched a couple reruns before my overabundance of yawning prompted Wells to suggest we turn in.
“Matilda,” I called, voice sing-song. “Wanna go to bed, baby?” I asked, watching as she opened one eye at me, then shut it again. “I’ll take that as a no,” I said with a little laugh. “I almost feel offended,” I added, looking over at Wells.
“She’ll come find you when she wakes up,” he assured me as we both headed upstairs.
Feeling suddenly safer than I had since the attack, and maybe even before that because, for the first time, I was living with a police officer—who, presumably, had an off-duty weapon to protect me with as well—I decided to take a long, hot shower, to let the stress melt away and swirl down the drain.
I was standing there, hair pulled up, wrapped in a towel, turning the tap.
And… nothing.
“Ah, Wells?” I called.
He materialized a few seconds later.
I didn’t imagine the way his eyes drifted down, how they grew heated.
Or the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard before speaking.
“What’s up?” he asked, voice rougher than usual, and it sent one of those internal shivers through me.
“Ah… there’s no water,” I told him, reaching to demonstrate, moving the faucet handle to each side.
