Do You Want To Play: A Detroit Police Procedural Romance (11 page)

TOBIAS STANDS OUTSIDE of my apartment door with sweat clinging to his temples and his breath labored. He pushes past me with his gun raised and his eyes scanning the apartment.

“Tobias, it’s…3:15 in the morning,” I say. “Why are you here trying to break into my apartment?”

“I wasn’t trying to break in. Somebody else was,” he says, his eyes scanning my bathroom and jerking the shower curtain open. I straighten up.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I was…” He shakes his head. “There was a man pretending to be a police officer outside of your apartment. It was the killer. I’m sure of it.”

“So, you know what he looks like?” she asks. “Who is he?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t get a good look. I’m pretty sure he had brown hair, but he was pointing the flashlight right in front of his face. He was smart enough to hide it from me.”

“Tobias…people impersonating cops isn’t unheard of,” she says. “What makes you so sure it was the PVP killer?”

“Well, did you plan on getting married soon?” he asks.

“No. Why?” I ask. He gestures into my living room. I step into the doorway and for the first time, I notice a white wedding dress—ivory with a low-cut neckline and a skirt/train made of sheer fabric so that the bride’s legs could be seen through it—hanging from the ceiling fan. As I step closer, I see that there is also a small diamond ring hanging from one of the fan blades by a piece of string. I turn to Tobias. “Where did this come from?”

“I would start looking for a note,” he says. We get some rubber gloves from my kitchen and begin to search through the layers of the dress. When we don’t find anything, we look through the living room—under the cushions of the couch, between books, under magazines—but there isn’t anything.

“Maybe he thinks the message is clear enough?” I guess.

“What is that message?” Tobias asks. “It wasn’t too long ago he was angry at you for being around me.”

“Yeah…but, I haven’t spent the last few nights around you at all,” I tell him. “Maybe he thinks something has changed.”

“Something did change,” he grumbles. He shakes his head. “There has to be a note. This is a guy who doesn’t shut up.”

“Why would he put the dress here and a note somewhere else?” I ask. Tobias rubs his five o’ clock shadow.

“Okay, let’s pretend I’m the killer,” he says, walking back toward the entrance. “I sneak into the apartment.” He pauses in the hallway. “With the wedding dress and ring—likely stored in some kind of bag in order to avoid suspicion.” He pretends to put the dress up and the ring. “My display is done and I want to leave a note. Why wouldn’t I leave it with everything else?”

“Because you’re psychotic?” I guess.

“This isn’t so much psychosis as obsession,” he says. “He didn’t come here for his usual reasons, he came here specifically to…see you.”

He turns to me.

“He left the note in your bedroom.”

“What?” I blurt. “I think I would have noticed if he was in my bedroom.”

“You didn’t notice that he was creating a wedding proposal in your living room,” he says, walking to my bedroom.

“That’s different,” I say.

“Not really,” he says. He yanks the sheets off my bed and searches through them. He doesn’t find anything.

“I told you,” I say. “I would have noticed.”

He picks up my pillow in frustration and thrusts it against the wall. I grab his arm.

“It’s okay,” I say. I sit down on the bed. He steps in between my legs. When I don’t protest, he leans down to kiss me. The kiss is simple—the slightest pressure of our lips touching. As he pulls away, I notice the book I was reading is flipped over, so the back of it is up instead of the front of it. A corner of a notecard sticks out of it. I grab the book and take out the notecard.

Do you know what soul mates are? They are two entities that see their own reflection in each other. When I look at you I see a world that had been unjust to you, but instead of breaking down under the weight of who you are supposed to be, you arose from it. I have always wanted to become part of the system in order to destroy it from the inside out, but you did it better. You are the best parts of me—like the rib taken out of Adam to create Eve. Keep fighting against the ignorance of society and one day we can unite without the law breathing down our necks. I love you. We will unite soon.

“That’s not creepy,” Tobias says, reading over my shoulder. “I’m surprised that there’s not more of a
Silence of the Lambs
speech in there.”

I close my eyes. “How did he get into my bedroom and I didn’t even notice?”

“At this point, I think this guy is quite good at covert work,” he says. “Plus, you’re a pretty deep sleeper.”

“What?” I ask. “No, I’m not.”

“Lauren, I’ve slept next to you,” he says. “You’re a deep sleeper.”

I glare at him. “That’s great. Now I have to stay awake all of the time to make sure a serial killer doesn’t break into my apartment.”

“Or…you could stay in my apartment,” he says. “And I can watch out for serial killers.”

I shake my head. “This guy wants to marry me. I guess a relationship doesn’t escalate much quicker than that.”

“Clearly, your apartment is no longer safe,” he says. “I thought there were supposed to be FBI agents here.”

“…There was one,” I say. “I sent him away.”

He pinches the bridge of my nose. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“The killer…we both know it isn’t Cody Moore. He doesn’t have the right personality for the killer. The killer wouldn’t pretend to be stupid. He’s proud of his intelligence,” I say. “We still don’t know who he is. I thought he might come by…which apparently he did.”

“And you could have died,” he says.

“He’s in love with me,” I say. “He’s not going to kill me.”

Tobias walks out of my bedroom. I follow him into the living room. He sits down on my couch.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“If you’re not going to stay in my apartment, I’ll stay at yours,” he says. He looks up at the wedding dress, his eyes critical. I sit down next to him.

“I’ll let you stay if you tell me what happened to your last partner,” I say. We stare at each other, each of us wanting the other to back down. Finally, he hangs his head.

“He was going to retire. He had a month and three days left. He kept exemplary track of it and he told me every day how many days he had left,” I say. “Then we get a call from Delray, this little crappy town. The caller said that there was a dead body in this insurance building. So, my partner…Michael…and I, we head down there with the usual team. It was a trap. The caller was a sniper…a good one with military background. He killed Michael and another police officer. He killed a medical examiner, a forensic science technician, and a civilian. I took a bullet in my pelvic bone, but otherwise I was pretty much unscathed. I pretended I was dead to survive and when the shooter came running out…David Wright…I shot him in the head. A couple of months after Michael’s death…I began to visit his wife, Mallory, and we just…talked about Michael like he was still alive. It was our way of keeping him alive. I didn’t tell you about it because…I didn’t want you to know about the massacre. It’s the worst day of my life and I didn’t want you to see me as the man who lost his partner and shot the murderer too late for it to matter.”

He rubs his eyes and takes deep breaths, trying to remain in control of his emotions. I wrap my arms around him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I say, kissing him, his body feeling cold under my touch. He grabs me so suddenly that I have no time to resist. He rolls me underneath him on the couch. He keeps part of his weight on the arm that’s braced against the couch, while I feel the rest of his weight along my body. Between every few kisses, he bites my bottom lip. I keep my fingers in his hair as I feel myself falling into a kaleidoscope of emotions. I am Alice going down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. Thrill and fear follow me down.

~~~~~

I WALK OUT of the break room and stop by Lauren’s desk.

“The ring seems to be an antique,” I say. “But the wedding dress is designed by Oscar de la Renta, and considering those dresses cost you an arm and a leg…”

“The FBI might be able to track down who bought it,” she finishes

“They’re looking into their database right now,” I say. “They’re going to look into who has bought video games with credit cards and debit cards too. It’s a lot more rare to buy video games that way, but maybe they will get lucky, especially if we find someone who has bought the games and the dress.”

She presses her pen against her lips. “After all of this is done, we should go on a vacation.”

“I haven’t gone on vacation in over a decade,” I say.

“Exactly,” she says. She leans forward, so her lips brush against my ear as she speaks. “We could go to the Bahamas and you could see what I look like in a teeny bikini.”

I smile. “Lauren…let’s focus.”

“I am very focused,” she says, leaning back into her chair. “I can almost feel the sun on me already.”

I run my fingers down her arm and kiss her temple. “I can almost feel your sun-kissed skin.”

I move my mouth to her ear and nibble the top of it. She laughs.

“Okay, okay,” she says. “Let’s try to act professional.”

“No, you guys should keep going,” Jacobs says, walking up to us. I clench my jaw. The fact that he tried to convince me that Lauren was a killer is still grating on me. He sets a printed list onto Lauren’s desk. “There is a list of everyone who has bought that dress in Detroit. I split it up into people who have bought it in the last month, which is two people, and people who have bought it in the last six months, which is sixteen people.”

“Why are there so few buyers in the last month compared to the last six months?” I ask.

“Because it’s almost winter,” Lauren says. “And people tend to get married during the summer.”

“Okay, for the two people who bought it in the last month, there is one man and one woman,” I say. “Look up Joshua Lee.”

Lauren brings up his driver’s license on her computer. He’s thirty-seven years old with dark brown hair, brown eyes, 6’2” and weighs 250 pounds.

“That’s not our guy,” I say. “Or at the very least, it’s not the guy from the airport, and I don’t think he could sneak into your room.”

“Well, maybe the woman is married and her husband took the dress,” Lauren says.

“You said the killer would be a loner.”

“Well, I’ve been wrong before,” she says. “Like when I said I would be safe in my own apartment.”

“The woman’s name is Shaila Potter.”

She types the name into the database and Shaila Potter’s license pops up. She’s a blonde woman with blue eyes, 5’4” and weighs 120 pounds.

“Can you find out if she married someone yet? Or who she is engaged to?” I ask.

“Sure,” Lauren says. She types into a search engine and an engagement announcement shows on the screen. I stare at the photo.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

~~~~~

Lauren and I stand outside of the apartment building. I hit the buzzer again. Lauren rubs her arms.

“Are you cold?” I ask. “I can get my coat from the car.”

She shakes her head. “What are the chances? Could we be getting setup again?”

“If this is another set-up, so help me God, I will burn this apartment building down,” I tell her. “Seriously. I feel like a dog chasing my tail while there happens to be a serial killer laughing the whole time.”

“You would be a cute dog,” she says. “When we first met, you were like a German shepherd, but now you’re more like a sheepdog.”

“Hey, I am vicious,” I say, kissing her on the cheek. “Don’t you forget that.”

She laughs. The intercom crackles.

“Hello?” a man’s voice asks. I press the button.

“Pizza delivery,” I say.

“It’s 9 a.m. in the morning,” he mumbles. I glance at my watch.

“It’s almost noon,” I say. There’s a pause.

“Oh,” he says. “Sorry. I was taking a nap…But I didn’t order any pizza. You must have the wrong address.”

“I think the name left for the order was Shaila,” I say.

“Shaila?” the man asks. “Oh. That’s my fiancée. Okay. Weird. One minute.”

The door to the apartment unlocks. I open the door and let Lauren walk through. As we walk up the stairway, I search through my pockets.

“What are you looking for?” Lauren asks.

“My lighter,” I say. “Did you hear him? He couldn’t be the killer. His IQ might say he’s a genius, but if he’s letting strangers into his house because they say they have pizza for him, he’s a moron.”

“He has to be connected somehow,” she says. “And you never know…maybe he’s only good at planning things. This is a surprise. He could still be the killer. You don’t need to burn down the apartment.”

We reach the door. Lauren knocks. I keep my hand inside my coat, my fingers gripped around my gun. The man opens the door, a wad of cash in his hand. His forehead wrinkles.

“You’re not the pizza man.”

“Timothy Wood,” I say. “Please put both your hands on the wall so that I can check you for any weapons.”

“What?” he asks. “I already told you guys. I didn’t kill anyone.”

I grab him and shove him against the wall. I pat down his body. Lauren walks in and closes the door behind her. I spin Timothy back around.

“Timothy, your fiancée bought a wedding dress within the last month. Can you—”

“Whoa, did you guys find it?” Timothy asks, his face brightening. “Thank God, because we didn’t have enough money to buy another one and Shaila’s father was pissed. At least this is one thing that’s going—”

“Timothy,” I interrupt. “What are you talking about? The dress went missing?”

“Yeah,” Timothy says. “It was stolen from inside this apartment. I know I wasn’t supposed to see the dress until our wedding day, but Shaila has five cats in her apartment. Five. With sharp claws.”

I look over at Lauren. “I am going to kill this guy.”

“Wait, what?” Timothy says. “Me? What did I do? I just—”

“Not you, Timothy,” I say. “I’m talking about the PVP killer.”

“The PVP killer? You’re still going on about him?” he asks. “Wasn’t his last kill awhile ago?”

The public doesn’t know that Jasmine’s, Ray’s, or Richardson’s murders were committed by the PVP killer—we don’t want them to panic when they find out that we have let this many murders slip through our fingers and two of them were policemen. I close my eyes.

“Timothy, did you have an engagement ring missing as well?” I ask.

“Uh, no,” he says. “That would be harder to steal, considering it’s on my fiancée’s finger. Wait. Shaila. Is she okay?”

“I’m sure she is,” Lauren says. “Can you tell us anything more about when your fiancée’s dress was taken?”

“I reported it to the police,” he says. “It happened about a week ago. It was nighttime and I was here when it happened, but I never heard anything. I woke up and it was gone.”

“This guy is quite good at getting in and out of houses,” I tell Lauren. “Is that in a game as well?”

Lauren ignores me. “Timothy, who knew about your engagement?”

“We had an announcement in the newspaper,” he says. “Why would the PVP killer even want a wedding dress?”

“Because he’s delusional,” I say. “Do you remember anything else from that night?”

“…There was something that I thought was weird, but nobody else did,” he says.

“What?” I ask.

“Well, he smashed one of my photographs that was framed and on the table,” he says. “Shaila and the cop I told about the robbery told me that he likely just bumped into it and the photograph fell, but the dress and the table were on opposite sides of the room.”

“Can you show me where it was?” I ask. He leads me to the living room. The apartment is nicely furnished with vintage furniture and decorations. The table he is talking about is made of oak and there are rows of framed photos on the table. He picks up one that has a frame but no glass. I look at it. It has Timothy with his arm wrapped around an older woman.

“That’s my mom,” he says. “We’re really close.”

“I can see that,” I say. I set the photograph back down. I point to the corner diagonally across from the table, where there’s a window and a steel sculpture of a swan. “So, the dress was over here?”

“Yeah,” Timothy says. “So why would the killer walk all the way over to the table and knock over one photo?”

“Delusional,” I repeat. I pretend that I’m the killer. I take the dress from one corner, but why would I walk over to the other corner? I can see the photographs from the corner the dress was in, but why would I smash that photo? “Does that photograph frame have secret compartments or anything?”

Timothy shakes his head. “No. That would be bizarre.”

“Maybe it was just a distraction,” Lauren says. “Maybe he did something else over there and he smashed the picture to draw attention to it.”

I look at the other photographs and around the table. There’s a bunch of baskets under the table, but nothing else is notable.

“This is crazy,” I say. “I don’t understand any of this.”

I walk over to Lauren and bow my head, keeping my voice low.

“How certain are we that he’s not the killer?” I mutter. “Maybe he’s making this whole thing up?”

“And smashing his own photograph?” she whispers. “That seems a bit odd.”

“Maybe he wanted us to think it was a burglary, so he broke something,” I say. She shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter. We don’t have enough evidence,” she says.

“We could arrest him for something,” I say. “And see if anything happens while he’s in prison.”

“Tobias, we are not framing him for anything,” she says.

“You’re no fun,” I mutter, winking. I turn to face Timothy. “We might have more questions later. Stay in town.”

He nods. “Should I be worried about this PVP killer?”

“Well, he’s contacted you twice and you haven’t died,” I say. “But I would keep your doors locked. Maybe get your fiancée’s five cats over here and use them as tripping devices for any robbers.”

Lauren punches me in the shoulder. I mouth
ow
.

“Do you guys at least have the wedding dress?” he asks.

“It’s evidence right now,” I say. “But as soon as it’s no longer evidence, we will send it right back to you. Try to keep your future father-in-law happy until then. We’ll see you sooner or later, Mr. Wood.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Wood,” Lauren says.

We walk out of the apartment and I take out my lighter. Lauren snatches it from me.

“Keep your pyromania in check,” she says. I kiss her.

“Maybe I need a new addiction,” I say. She wraps her arm around my waist. This one moment of peace and quiet is more than I could ever ask for.

~~~~~