Crossing the Line (14 page)

Closing his eyes, he tried to push back the memories—to keep them from taking over, pulling him into the past. “I wasn’t in a good mood. I was grumpy, and stressed, and angry for what had been done to that young woman. She was only eighteen, and he’d nearly torn her to shreds before killing her.”

He looked down at the ground although he couldn’t see much. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a heavy shadow. It fit the mood of their conversation, he supposed. “When I’d left the house earlier, Melissa noticed that we were almost out of diapers, and asked if I could pick some up on the way home. With all that happened, I’d forgotten.”

To her credit, Megan didn’t comment. She sat quietly and listened to every word of his confession.

“When she brought it up, I exploded. I don’t know if it was the exhaustion or the stress . . . either way, she didn’t deserve my anger. We’d fought before, of course. We’d been together for fifteen years. But this was different. I accused her of not appreciating what I did for her and our family. I was . . . I was mean about it. I said . . . I said things I shouldn’t have. Things that, to this day, I wish I could take back.”

The swing moved, but Paul didn’t have it in him to look in Megan’s direction to see what she was doing—how she was reacting to his revelation.

He cleared his throat, and finished what he’d started. If he was going to spill his guts, then he wasn’t going to hold back. “Our fight ended when I yelled at her that she should just go get the damn diapers herself. She grabbed her purse off the counter, swearing that she’d do just that, and stormed out the door.”

After a long pause, he whispered, “She never made it to the store. A mile from our house, a drunk driver ran through a stop sign and broadsided her. She was pronounced dead at the scene.”

“I’m sorry.”

Paul snorted. “I don’t deserve your sympathy, Megan. I lost my wife because of my own stupidity—I cost my daughter her mother.”

“No. You didn’t.”

Not wanting to argue with her, Paul stood. Keeping his back to her, he took a deep breath, and uttered the words that made him feel as if he were sticking a knife into his chest and twisting. “You should go out with Officer Rollins. I don’t deserve a second chance.”

Before she could reply, he walked back into the house. Hopefully, now she’d see. He wasn’t the man she thought he was. 

Chapter 11

Megan sat outside thinking about everything Paul had told her, until the cool night air finally drove her inside. He’d left the lights on for her, but when she went upstairs, she noticed his door was closed. Knowing he wouldn’t welcome her intrusion into his private space, Megan reluctantly trudged into her room and got ready for bed. 

It was only as she was drifting off to sleep that what Chloe said resurfaced in her mind, and Megan wondered what had prompted the little girl’s sudden fear. So much had happened in the last five hours that it was difficult to tell what had caused the outburst. She knew she’d have to talk to Paul about what happened. No matter what was going on between them, they couldn’t let it affect Chloe.

Megan didn’t get much sleep that night which, considering how her evening had ended, wasn’t a big surprise. Deciding she needed as much mental armor as possible, she took the time to get herself dressed and primped before going downstairs. 

When Megan sauntered into the kitchen, she found Paul sitting at the table, reading the paper and drinking his morning cup of coffee. He didn’t glance up or acknowledge her arrival in any way, but she knew he was aware of her by the way he hesitated for a moment as she walked behind him.

After getting her coffee, Megan pulled out a chair, and sat down to his right. She took a sip of her coffee. “Paul?”

He glanced up. From the look on his face, he appeared to be preparing for battle. 

Although she knew they needed to talk about what he’d shared with her the night before, they needed to talk about Chloe more. “After you left Chloe’s room last night, she said something to me. I’ve been thinking about it, and well, I’m worried.”

This got his attention. “What did she say?”

“She asked if I was leaving.”

Paul sat up straight. She had his full attention. “Why?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I have to assume that it had something to do with what happened at dinner.”

“Megan . . .”

She met his gaze. “Don’t. We’ll talk about last night, but not now. Not when Chloe is going to come downstairs at any minute. My biggest concern is that she thinks I’m going to just up and leave her.”

“You don’t think I’m concerned about that, too?” He stood, and took his cup to the sink. “I’ll talk to her.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He turned abruptly to face her. “Why not? I’m her father. It’s my—”

“But it’s
me
she thinks is leaving. She needs reassurance from
me
, Paul. Not you. Not on this.”

The sound of little feet descending the stairs ended their discussion. Seconds later, a sleepy-eyed Chloe waddled into the kitchen. 

Paul crossed the room, and lifted her into his arms. She clung to his neck, burying her face against his shoulder. 

He carried her over to the counter, and proceeded to grab the supplies he would need for her breakfast before depositing her into a chair, and placing the items before her. She timidly glanced up at Megan, scooted her chair a little closer to where Megan was sitting, and then picked up her spoon to begin eating her cereal. 

Megan looked questioningly at Chloe as she drank her coffee and nibbled on a muffin she’d snatched off the counter. Chloe stared intently at her cereal, but would pause every now and then as if she were waiting for something. 

“Good morning, Chloe.”

Chloe peeked up at Megan. “Morning.”

Although Chloe wasn’t typically a morning person, her mumbled greeting wasn’t normal. 

Glancing over at Paul, Megan saw him frown. At least he realized that she wasn’t exaggerating the issue. 

Megan turned her attention back to Chloe. “Chloe?”

She waited until she was sure she had the little girl’s full attention. 

“Honey, last night you asked me if I was leaving. Do you remember?”

Chloe nodded, and Megan thought she saw a note of fear in Chloe’s eyes. 

“Can you tell me what made you think that I was leaving?”

Chloe looked toward her father.

Paul tried to reassure her. “It’s okay, sweetpea.”

She still looked unsure.

Megan reached out, and placed her hand over Chloe’s where it lay on the table. “No one’s mad at you, sweetie. We’re just trying to understand.”

Chloe lowered her eyes. “You were mad at Daddy.”

“Just because your dad and I don’t always agree, doesn’t mean I’m going to leave, Chloe. Grown-ups disagree sometimes.”

“But that man. He . . . he kissed you.” She said the last part in a conspiratorial whisper.

Megan sighed, and slid off her chair so that she could kneel down next to Chloe. Taking both the little girl’s hands in hers, Megan tried to be as honest as she could. “I can’t promise you that I’ll never leave, Chloe, but I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, okay?”

“Okay.” 

There was still a little uncertainty in Chloe’s reply, and Megan knew the little girl needed more assurance. “Do you think I can get a hug?”

Chloe didn’t hesitate. She circled her tiny arms around Megan’s neck, and squeezed tight. “I love you, Megan.”

Megan hugged her back. “I love you, too, Chloe.”

Leaving for work that morning was more difficult than usual. He wanted to stay and comfort his little girl. Paul knew he wouldn’t be able to protect Chloe from every emotional, or even physical, obstacle she would face, but as her father that desire was there. 

As he’d said goodbye to Chloe, giving her an extra-long hug, he didn’t miss the pointed stare he’d received from Megan. He knew she held him responsible for Chloe’s reaction, and in all honestly, Megan was probably correct. Paul was the one who’d invited Rollins to have dinner with them. Paul was the one who’d set everything up, including what led up to the kiss Chloe witnessed. It was his fault—at least most of it.

Paul parked his car outside the station, and took a moment to compose himself. As much as he needed to figure out what was going on in his life at the moment, he also had cases to work and a serial killer to catch.

He got out of his vehicle, and was halfway across the parking lot when he caught sight of Janey striding toward him. The look on her face told him that he wasn’t going to like whatever it was she was about to tell him. 

“We’ve got another victim.”

Turning on his heel, they returned to his vehicle, and drove to the crime scene. He needed to get his head in the game, and figured the best way to do that was to begin gathering the facts. “What do we know?”

“The victim is a twenty-six-year-old female named Shelly Otis. Her roommate found her about an hour ago when she came home after a night shift.”

“Anything else?”

“Not much. Since we’re fairly sure this is another victim courtesy of our serial killer, they’re waiting on us.”

It didn’t take them long to arrive. The victim’s house was only about ten minutes from the station, in a middle-class subdivision. Paul noted that the surroundings were eerily similar to those of the other victims. Everything about the neighborhood was normal, average. There was nothing that made this place stand out. Was that a key to how this guy chose his victims?

“It looks like the others.”

He glanced over at his partner. “Yeah. I was thinking the same thing. Could be a clue.”

Janey snorted. “If it is, that he’s choosing his victims based on them living in nondescript subdivisions . . . that’s about as helpful as knowing he likes the color yellow.”

Paul smirked. “Maybe he does.”

She shook her head. “So not helpful, Daniels.”

He released a harsh laugh, and then exited the vehicle. Janey followed, and they showed their badges to the patrolman positioned in front of the house, before going inside. 

The forensics team was still doing their thing. Paul and Janey took a brief look at the crime scene, and Paul noted that it was in line with the others. The victim was lying in the center of the room, with her wrists and throat slashed. Blood pooled on the carpet, and stained the pink polka-dot bikini she wore. 

Paul glanced out the window into the backyard, looking for any sign of a pool, and noticed what looked to be a hot tub roughly five feet from the house. “Do we have time of death?”

The ME looked up from where he was positioned over the body. “More than ten hours, so I’d say last night some time.”

Nodding, Paul moved toward the door. He and Janey headed down the hall to where they’d been told the victim’s roommate was waiting. 

Sitting on the couch in the living room was a young woman who looked to be in her mid to late twenties with long reddish brown hair. She was staring off into space, face and eyes blotchy from the tears she’d been shedding. This was the part of the job Paul hated the most. It was hard to stay detached when coming face-to-face with the victim’s friends and family. It always brought back memories for him.

Since the roommate was female, Janey took the lead. It was an unspoken agreement between them. “Katherine Bates?”

The woman turned abruptly, looking almost shocked to see them standing a few feet in front of her. “Yes.” 

Janey smiled. “Hello, Ms. Bates. I’m Detective Davis, and this is Detective Daniels. We need to ask you a few questions.”

She glanced down, toying with a tissue. “Okay.”

“When was the last time you saw your roommate?”

“Last night, before I left for my shift at the hospital. Shelly was in her room.”

Janey moved to sit next to her on the sofa. “I know this is difficult, but do you remember seeing anything out of place when you left the house?”

She shook her head. “No. I was . . . I was running late, and I . . .” Tears started streaming down her cheeks, and it took several minutes for her to compose herself. 

The rest of the questioning went in a similar vein. She didn’t know much. She hadn’t seen anything. What’s more, she and Shelly often worked opposite shifts, so she didn’t have a lot of information on Ms. Otis’ daily routine. They wrote down what she did know, and gave her their cards in case she thought of anything else. 

After leaving Ms. Bates, Janey and Paul spoke to a couple of neighbors who’d been home the night before. Like the others, though, no one remembered seeing anything out of the ordinary. Paul and Janey still had no idea how this guy was getting into the homes of his victims without anyone seeing anything, or there being any sign of forced entry.

They stopped for lunch on the way back to the station. 

Once they’d placed their order and their server had retreated to the kitchen, Janey turned her attention on him, an amused look on her face. “So how did dinner go last night with Rollins?”

He groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Janey laughed. “That bad, huh?”

Paul sighed. “You could say that.”

“I could’ve saved you the trouble and told you that before you went.”