Intimate Danger (Empire Blue) (6 page)

“Retesting?” The look on her face told him how disgusted she was with the suggestion.
“What makes you think we missed anything, or what do you think we’ve missed?” Her voice held just a knife’s blade of irritation.

He chewed and swallowed, the sublime tang hitting a spot in his empty stomach. “It’s not that I think your team can’t handle it.” He wound another bite
around his fork. “I want to run some comparisons to the results we pulled in D.C. Outside of that, though, we need to figure out what this guy’s MO is so we can discover his signature behavior.”

She eyed him over her field of greens with speculation he could almost taste, even over good food. Distrust marred her features
, which made unease prickle at his shoulders. He hated that look directed at him. And he had no clue where it was coming from. Sure they’d gotten off to a somewhat bad start, but he’d thought they were getting over that, especially with all the teasing and flirting they’d been doing for the past few hours. He sighed and dropped his fork, then set his elbows on the table. The setting sun behind her did two things at once. It reminded him of how much time he had before they’d be expected to part ways. He liked being in her company. There was something about Detective Charlie Lopez that kept him anticipating what smart-ass remark would come out of her sexy mouth. Parting even for the few hours tonight, when he’d go to the hotel, and her to wherever she stayed wasn’t a deadline he was looking forward to.

But soon
, the sky would darken and the crimes would start again. It wasn’t a question of if, but when.

Natural light washed over
the detective’s olive complexion. His hand ached to reach up and touch her. He gnashed his teeth together and set his fork down.

“Look,
I thought I already made this clear. I’m not going to take over here. I’m actually hoping to help. I profile, find signatures, identify possible victims before they’ve been hit, and uncover an MO. This is why the FBI chose me. I know profiling. But before we can try to identify other characteristics that could lead us to him, we need to take several steps. This is one of them.”

He paused and she lifted a brow.

Christ.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What, or who, had put that lack of faith there?

“Profiling is a whole process, a generalization about a certain type of criminal and his or her crimes. The characteristics of what make him or her stand out from all the others. Once we are able to complete the profile, we will be a step closer to narrowing the list of suspects. Then, when it is narrowed, we can push toward an arrest. Surely you know this. It’s not something that is missed in the academy or at the university. You said so yourself.”

His gut clenched
at a random thought. What would these crimes do to this community, to her, once she learned more? Turning his head, he eyed the sinking sun’s rays before forcing his gaze back to his spaghetti.

“Al
l right, Sherlock, how do you suppose we go about figuring him out? What can you see?” she asked, that same lace of sarcasm in her voice. He fought against grinding his teeth together. This needed to stop. He wasn’t there to be interrogated.

He swallowed another large bite and answered. “Well, from what I’ve reviewed, it seems his B&Es hold common parts such as the footprints outside of a window, the tool marks at the point of entry and lack of violence. There is one thing concerning about his approach
, though.”

She took a sip of water and eyed him over the glass. “What’s that?”

“The lingerie.”

She stared. “Okay? What about it?”

He stuttered on a breath and picked up his drink. “Well, the lingerie is more of a signature behavior, as is the semen your team found at the latest victim’s house. But—” He scratched his head and took a drink of soda, the fuzzy carbonation tickling his throat. “Something feels off. It doesn’t seem to match exactly what happened in D.C. It’s almost as if he’s progressed.”

She picked up a piece of garlic bread from his plate and he raised a brow, but didn’t say a thing. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the steps he has taken in the past few B&Es lead me to believe he could be stepping up his excitement. He may start taking chances soon.” She opened her mouth, but he rushed on. “Crimes escalate. They always do no matter what it is. Think about it, someone steals a piece of candy from the store and gets away with it. What are they going to want to do next? Steal more, right? So they go back and this time, they take two. Same thing goes for a sex offender, or in our case a pervert who likes to break in and steal women’s lingerie. I can’t confirm that will happen with this perp yet, so don’t go jumping to any conclusions. I want to take a look at some reports before we go down that road.”

Her lips pressed together, the lower one popping out slightly. His mouth watered, and it was not
for what sat on his plate.

“How do you come up with all of this, Agent Rossi?” she asked.

He shook his head, but kept his gaze on her mouth. “It’s Trent. And simple.” He shifted his chair around the table until his leg brushed along her thigh. She sat up straight, but didn’t push away.

“What are you doing?”
she asked, her voice hitching as he brushed his thigh against hers again.

A test, he wanted to say
, but didn’t. He continued to focus on her mouth. This was lesson one-oh-one in impulse behavior. He could just explain how criminals sometimes couldn’t control their actions, were led by their impulse for gratification, but getting up close and personal with Charlie seemed much better than giving a lecture. “Thinking outside the box. Taking something I want. Forgetting about the repercussions.” He scooted closer. Her scent washed over him, surrounded him. He leaned in and inhaled along her cheek, blowing his breath out against the shell of her ear.

“A-agent R-rossi, I think this is highly—”

“In order to understand why a criminal is doing something, you must first start thinking like one. Doing so means you need to drop all pretenses for what is right.” That plump brim of a lip filled his vision and he licked his in anticipation.

She sucked in a sweet gasp that filled his ears.

“This isn’t right,
Trent
,” she said, her breath fanning across his cheek.

His gut flipped at the sound of his name coming from her lips and he leaned in, speaking against her mouth, hovering
only a scant inch between their lips. “Say it again. Say my name, again,” he demanded roughly.

She swallowed
, a gulp that pierced his hearing as her radio squawked. Her chair made a disgruntled noise as she pushed back and stood. He blinked, the mood broken and looked around. Holy shit, who had he been trying to convince about impulses? Realizing that he’d been two seconds from kissing her shocked the hell out of him.

Charlie fidgeted with her radio after yanking it from the table
, and walked out of the small restaurant. He sat back with a resigned sigh and watched as she paced along the front of the property, the window and the soft street light giving him a glimpse into her agitation. He had no clue what came over him. He needed to be careful, as a larger game currently played, and much more was as stake. He could not afford to mess up now.

Rising from his seat, he went off to fetch the server and pay the bill, then get back on track.

He stepped outside and stood to the side, waiting while Charlie finished whatever call that had come through. The sweltering heat wrapped around him like a heavy wool coat and he rethought the standard FBI fashion guidance. He wasn’t going to last more than two days in this heat if he continued to wear suits. At least in the City most of their cases were handled inside a car or a building, not outside in the heavy summer humidity and heat.

Charlie walked over to him and tucked her hands in the back of her pockets. The move thrust her chest outward and really, what hot-blooded man wouldn’t look? He made sure to do it fast before her attention turned to his face.

“What the hell was that inside?” Her voice was hard, but spoken softly as if she wasn’t sure what he’d been trying to do. He chose his words carefully, needing more than a professional reason to tread lightly.

“Look, Charlie, I didn’t mean any offense, and I’m sorry. It was more of a lesson in impulse control.”

She made a face and he could tell she didn’t understand. Okay, time to try another way.

“Al
l right,” he started and widened his feet, settling in for what he did best, his job. “Impulse control and control of one’s actions are two different things. With impulse, what you’ll find is many perps can’t manage this and after they are caught and evaluated, they are labeled with Impulse Control Disorder. Many of your common criminals are this type. Gamblers that can’t quit, pyromaniacs, kleptomaniacs, and sexual deviants. Understanding this disorder can help you as an Investigator to track your perp better.”

“But I thought you
didn’t know if they have this disorder until after they are caught and evaluated. How can you think our guy, if it is just one guy, has this?” she asked, her face scrunching into a mask with no small amount of incredulity.

Trent
spread his hands, getting into their discussion. Sweat gathered along his spine. It really was damn hot, but he had Charlie’s attention now and he didn’t want to chance moving this inside and losing her. “Well, that’s a good question, but think about it. If it is the same guy, the stages he’s going through are progressing and that’s important in tracking him.”

“Like moving from merely watching a woman undress to actually breaking into the house and becoming somewhat of an active participant by touching her sexy underthings?” she asked.

He nodded. She caught on quick. “Exactly, and with ICD the main aspect is that impulse. It’s a growing tension that the offender can no longer fight. Once it gets too strong, they have to release it and in doing that, they obtain pleasure, get relief, and then possibly grief over committing the act.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you tried to kiss me, Agent Rossi
,” she snapped, her eyes holding his.

“Trent,” he said, reminding her.

Her mouth twisted, so he went on. “With ICD, if I was the perp, I wouldn’t have been able to control my actions. But knowing I don’t have it—”

“One
can only hope,” Charlie cut in.

He grinned. “Or that
,” he said and chuckled. “That would mean I was in control of my actions and was doing what one would consider to be coming on a little strong.”

“You think? How about next time you just tell me what you’re trying to do, instead of using me as your guinea pig.”

He bowed his head in mock surrender. “Of course. Can we get out of this heat now? I’m sweating my ass off here. And without having to be reminded, yes, Charlie, you were right.”

She chuckled and the sound brushed against him with soft fingers. “I actually need to head back to the station and take care of a
n old case. You need a ride to the hotel, or are you okay from here?”

His hotel was in the opposite direction
of the station, and even though it was hot as hell, the walk wouldn’t kill him. “Naw, I can make it from here, unless you maybe don’t want to continue this lesson back at my room?” He had to tease her. He couldn’t resist.

She scrunched her face
again and really, that look shouldn’t make her look cuter, but damn if it didn’t. So he told her as much.

“
That was cute, Charlie, but yeah, I thought so. Goodnight.”

Chapter Five

“That had better be some strong coffee.” Charlie accepted the cup with
a grateful smile. Heat spread through the Styrofoam, reminding her of the warm, comfortable bed she had been pulled from thirty minutes earlier thanks to another home invasion. Four-thirty in the morning was definitely a time she considered night, especially when the sky was still black. Getting yanked out of bed at this god-awful hour reminded her that she was, yes, the lead detective on this case. Her emotional tug of war with what Trent had done to her outside the restaurant last night also weighed on her mind and after a shit week of no sleep, it put her in a dangerous mood. On one hand, she was ecstatic that she finally garnered the attention and respect. But on the other, she still felt as if she was in over her head. Ready to sink with the ship.

Detective
Dwayne Gonzalez nodded and stepped back, turning so he stood next to her. She took him in. As if made for him, a blue suit molded to his body, tie in place, hair orderly, and his green eyes were bright with alertness. Every bit a marathon runner, his lean muscles showcased the mocha-colored skin that sent women all over Nyack—even her at times—swooning. Her best friend, current roommate, and partner crossed his arms over his chest and studied the scene. The room was in disarray, items scattered left and right. A lamp lay forgotten on the ground, and the window drapes billowed in the wind.

She took a hesitant sip of coffee
and continued to scan the area, noting specific details. An out of place piece of plastic on the floor, coins laying on the dresser, diamond earrings sitting inches away. Then, her gaze fell to the bed. She cursed and hot liquid scalded her tongue. Lingerie lay haphazardly scattered across the mattress.

Lowering the cup from her mouth, she wiped the burning fluid away
with her other hand. This was just another piece of the puzzle that added to her overall investigation. Dwayne’s voice rumbled next to her.

“
You catch any sleep?”

She cast a glance his way. “I was just resting when you walked in. My head was pounding out the latest
electronic dance song, and my vision wasn’t any better. I was trying to wait for the aspirin to kick in.”

He snorted softly, and somehow
it still came out refined and sexy as hell. “You’re lucky I stopped by to check on you.” He sounded smug. “Had I not, you could be sporting a stiff neck, a few creases in your face, maybe worse.”

Her face flamed at the reminder of him finding her passed out on her small wooden kitchen table at one in the morning. “Yes, well, like I said, I was just resting. But thank you.”

He grinned, a quick flash of teeth, and motioned toward the room. “Now you see why you were called. Any chance you think this could be related to your other cases?”

She nodded
, sure without a doubt. “I do. And we have a problem. This is getting weirder and weirder. First, the Peeping Tom, then the missing lingerie last week, and now a prelude to some sort of homemade fashion show. Let’s not mention that the feds have suddenly adopted a lethal desire to be in on this, too. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

He pursed his lips. “No, I don’t think so.
At least, not in the village. Then again, is it any surprise, being so close to the City, that it has taken this long for some of the loonies to come over.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes with a huge sigh
, mulling over his words. Pushing her mind back to the Academy, through her detective’s exam, she tried to focus on what kind of individual they were dealing with. In all her years on the force, Nyack had yet to deal with a sexual deviant. Hell, at worse they had shoplifters, bad check writers, bank tellers tempted with goods of their trade. They were not a town who held murderers, rapists, capital offenders, sexual predators…

She bit her lip
. Could this escalate? If her Peeping Tom was related to these B&Es, then the logical conclusion would be yes, and the perp had already intensified. Trent’s words from last evening echoed silently in her head. But what was the link? There was always one, so where was it?

She looked around again.
They needed to control contamination. It was unknown how many people had access to this room, but she assumed it was just the couple. Collecting and preserving evidence could prove futile, but anything, whether it be blood, hairs, or fingerprints, tracing back to anyone other than those two would hopefully give them the lead they needed. From the looks of things, it didn’t seem as if much, if anything, had been taken. So that ruled out pawnshop visits, internet sales to check if anything was passed off. No, this entire scene had a different feel from theft.

The checklist popped in her mind.

Crime scene technicians. Forensics. Are they on scene? And if so, they need to process everything, ASAP. See if fingerprints, fibers, or hairs have been left behind. Check around the house for footprints or trash unknowingly left behind.

Was she overdoing this? Would the
chief even approve that kind of expense to bring in state forensics? Sending the examples to the state would take time, and cost a bit of money. Sure they had Trent’s backing on this, but was she still supposed to operate under her own policies, or did she go to Trent with this? What if they found a link using their high tech equipment? She wanted to have faith that they could do this without the feds’ help and, damn it, she wanted to prove herself. When compared to what they had in Nyack, their resources seemed medieval. What if she missed something?

Get someone assigned for scene security. Start documenting who enters and exits the area.

Document the evidence as it’s found.

She shook her head.
God, it was a B&E, not an armed robbery, but still, this was her shot to show she
could
do this.

Calm your ass down, Charlie. Get a damn grip.

Steps sounded behind her and Peter cleared his throat. “Charlie, you might want to take a look at this.”

She glanced at what he held. A picture of a large shoe print, and if she had to predict,
it would match the previous ones and be a size thirteen, Hush Puppy. The same damn thing forensics found last time. This scene was all too familiar.

“Let me guess,” she grumbled.

“Yup, an exact match. The team is pulling an impression now. But the size, type, and distinctive marks are a bull’s-eye.”

Hope
flared. Adrenaline surged. This was the reason she became a detective. Puzzles pumped her blood, and these crimes were just one gigantic puzzle begging to be put together.

She walked around the bed with precise
and watchful steps. The next parts of the checklist flowed in her mind. “All right, have the techs run the impression and search for fingerprints. If the scene is anything like the last one, and at first glance it looks that way, then there is the chance we will not find any. It doesn’t hurt to try, though. This entire room needs to be dusted and we’ll have to get a set from the homeowners to rule them out.” She paused and drew a cautious gulp of the bitter liquid.

“Owens and the
chief are interviewing the couple now,” Dwayne supplied.

Her head snapped up. “The
chief is here?”
What in the hell is he doing?

He nodded. “Yeah, I called him first. He was actually the one to pull you in.
And Agent Rossi is on his way. Sorry, Charlie.”

She clenched her jaw, and a muscle popped.
If history repeated itself…

“Charlie, don’t look at me like that.”

She gave him a droll look. “Like what? Like my partner sold me out? This is my investigation. I don’t want to be removed…again.”

“No one said you
would be,” the chief rumbled from the doorway. He wore dark jeans, a white department polo, and tired eyes. “This is your case. All of them are being linked into one.” His gaze pinned her to the spot. “I won’t get in your way, but I expect to be kept abreast of what’s going on, at all times. And you need to keep Agent Rossi on board, too. I mean it.”

Promises, promises.
“Of course.”

“Charlie, I’m not kidding. In all my years here, I have never seen anything like this. Really, lingerie fetish? I don’t get what this perverted fuck thinks he’s doing, but I want him stopped. Tread carefully, and stay aware at all times. I don’t have to remind you of your safety first.
And I don’t want to have to remind you that you have a team of detectives and a federal agent that will back you on this and we’re all going to be giving our best to stop this guy.”

She swallowed and kept her face a stone mask, hiding all
her emotions, the excitement, the twinge of irritation at the talking down. She wasn’t a damn child. She was a grown woman, a detective, and trying to prove that seemed harder than she thought possible. “Yes, sir.”

He stared at her for a moment, some battle playing across his features, then nodded and turned away, his steps echoing down the hall.

“You were saying, Charlie?” Peter prompted.

She
refocused on the scene. “Right. We’ll eliminate the homeowner’s prints and run what’s left over through IAFIS to see if we can get a match.” Noticing a small cap sitting by her boot, she tugged on an extra glove she had hidden in her pocket and picked the cylinder piece up. She held the top to the light.

“Whatcha got there?” Dwayne asked.

“I don’t know.” She shifted the black plastic piece. It looked familiar, but with the digital age well worked into society, she had not seen one in years. “It looks like a lid to a film container.”

He stepped next to her and reached for the fragment. “Yeah, it does actually. A 35mm film canister? Who uses film anymore nowadays? Huh …”
Uh oh, here it comes.
His eyes were a million miles away, lost in thought, when he continued, “Last time I used film was with the head cheerleader in high school. You know that scene from—”

She stared and cut him off. “Really?”

He shrugged, grinned unabashed. “What?”

“Check with the homeowners. Let’s rule them out first before we start asking too many questions.”

Charlie stuffed the glove in her pocket and scrubbed a hand down her weary face. She needed to lay everything out. Well first, she needed more caffeine, and then she had to get started on a board. Mapping everything out for visual inspection just might identify some link she missed. One had to be there. Too much had the potential to be connected. The two cases of breaking and entering seemed linked, and the Peeping Tom cases from last month should be included as well.

“Al
l right, guys.” She let out a deep breath and turned to the window, stared out into the darkness. “You heard the chief, he wants this fucker stopped. It’s time to put our skills to work.”

“Charlie,” a low voice called from the doorway of the room. She shivered as Trent’s frame filled the entryway and tightened her grip on her cup. Damn, but he looked sexy as hell wearing a tight
, long-sleeve, black shirt that wrapped around his chest as if it were a second skin. Faded jeans sat low on his hips, cupping him in all the right places, worn with use in others. He had on a thick black belt with a silver buckle. At his hip was his firearm, and right next to that his badge. He oozed confidence, and his presence made her want to toss him down on the bed and have her wicked way with him.

“I see you have clothing other than suits, Agent Rossi,” she quipped, more than sarcastic
in her words. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t like her reaction and she was still a quart low on coffee.

His lips tightened and he looked to the side for a moment, shook his head and then looked back in her eyes. “Last time I’m telling you this, Charlie. It’s Trent. You used my name last night, so don’t tell me you don’t know it.”

She sucked in a breath but he continued before she could speak. “And before you get your panties in a twist, I warned you. But that’s not important right now. I just got done talking with the owners, they have a surveillance system. Guy is getting a copy of it on a disc now, I think we may have caught a break.”

Hope surged through her and the earlier irritation
at his presence and his words sprouted just now in front of Peter and Dwayne—she was going to hear about that later—faded away. “Really?” she asked.

Trent grinned and his eyes danced with humor. “No shit, Charlie. He’s got a few of them scattered across the house, hidden behind the air ducts. With everything going on in the town, he decided to take
home security upon himself in the event it happened here.”

“Holy
crap,” she breathed, practically doing the jig in her boots.

Trent and Dwayne chuckled and somewhere off to the side Peter snorted.

“Once the disc is done, let’s go back and watch it at the station while forensics finishes up here. Chief is already getting a written statement from the homeowner and his wife. The scene will be taken care of,” Trent said, his tone brooking no argument. Not that she disagreed with his action plan, but still…

How did she always find him taking things over? What was more of a question was, why didn’t she care? This was something she wanted, the chance to show the
chief she could do this, so why wasn’t she getting angry at Trent, who was practically bossing her around at her scene? Must be due to the very real lead they could have. She nodded at Trent. “Sounds good, let me know when everything is ready and we’ll head out.”