It Takes a Killer (6 page)

Hannah pushed Dane against the wall again, knowing exactly where she had placed him.  If Dane knew he didn’t give any indication, but Hannah had a feeling he did.  She had a feeling this was exactly what he wanted.  She pushed onto her toes once more and pressed her lips to his, feeling how perfectly smooth they were.  Hannah knew they would feel that way; she’d seen him applying lip balm more than once in a shift.

Playfully, Hannah didn’t open her mouth as his tongue slid across her lips.  She pulled back and grinned at him, brushing her hair out of her eyes.  The sounds of heels echoed across the sidewalk but nobody moved into the mouth of the alley.  Mariana had stopped just before and was now listening.

Hannah pressed her body against Dane’s, feeling the bulge in his pants.  It pressed against her, desperate to get out of it’s holding and into her.  She shivered as she removed her jacket and let it fall to the ground.  She palmed at Dane over his pants.

Dane moaned, too quietly.  Hannah kissed at his neck, feeling a grimace beginning to form on her lips.  She wanted him to be louder.  But still only little moans and heavy breathing came from the man.  “Hannah,” he said.

Hannah felt Dane’s hand move up her shirt.  He’d pulled it from her skirt and was now trying to get her bra off.  She suckled on his neck and rolled her eyes.  If this was how quickly Dane moved it was no wonder his affairs didn’t last long.  Before his hand could reach the clasp of her bra she shoved his hands away and wiggled her index finger at him.

“Ah, ah,” Hannah breathed.  She gave him another kiss, letting his tongue meet hers.  When she pulled away she added, “I want to hear you first.”

Hannah had always chosen cleanliness over everything else.  She abhorred the idea of getting dirt and dust on her clothes, but at that moment something else was more important.  She fell to her knees, already planning on tossing her stockings away in the nearby dumpster.  The gravel dug into her skin, and there would be bruises tomorrow morning.  Hannah’s hands worked quickly to undo Dane’s pants and reveal his sex.

It was smaller than Hannah expected, but bigger than others she’d seen.  Dane was staring down at her as if showing off something amazing, something she’d never seen before.

“You like what you see?” he questioned, quirking one eyebrow.

She smiled up at him, thinking that even Mr. Cavan wouldn’t be able to tell that she was faking.  “Absolutely.”

Hannah flicked her tongue out and licked Dane’s tip.  She swirled her tongue around him as one hand began to move up and down his shaft, before she finally pushed her head further down.  He filled her mouth and began to groan louder, but still not quite as loudly as she wanted.  After a few minutes of quiet, breathy groans from Dane she pulled back and looked up at him.

“You want me to be louder?” he questioned.  She nodded.  “Well I’d like you to be loud, too.  It’s only fair.”

Hannah considered it, just as she had before.  And the thought appealed to her, but not because of Dane.  He’d never been of interest to her, she realized in that moment.  Something else was what made her want to do anything at all with the man.  Hannah pulled back suddenly and grabbed her coat, standing quickly.

Dane gaped.  “What?  Too much?”

Wiping at her mouth, Hannah couldn’t give him an answer.  Her tongue felt dry as she stared at the ground, eyes bulging in her recent revelation.  Forgetting all about Dane, and Mariana’s betrayal, Hannah walked out of the alley.  Nobody was waiting there, listening in on the not so private moment.

“Hey!” Dane called.  She heard him stumbling behind her, struggling to get his pants back on over himself.  “What the hell?  Hannah!”

She didn’t look back.  In the reflection of a nearby car she saw that he had stopped at the mouth of the alley.  His mouth was moving as if he was yelling at her but she didn’t hear any words.  All she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears.

It was never Dane that had turned her on; after all, he’d never been of interest until recently.  A nervous bubble of laughter escaped her throat.

It had been the thought of getting back at Mariana.  It had been the thought of being the one and
only
woman for Dane.  It had been the image of herself as the notorious outcast of Garnet’s Lake.  It was never actually Dane himself.  It could have been anyone in his place and she would have felt the same heat pooling between her legs moments earlier.

It had been the alley that turned her on.  Hannah quickened her pace and checked her watch; three minutes behind.

By the time Hannah arrived at her apartment her legs were wobbly and the heat had completely vanished.  She felt chilled now, as if her entire body were covered in frost.  It was hard to move, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was unbelievably unsatisfied.  She still desired something, but since it wasn’t sex she didn’t know what.  Humans were easy for her to understand, and their simple biological needs even easier.  Yet it wasn’t a biological need that Hannah had experienced in the alley with Dane, or even in the kitchen with him.  It was something else. 

And that something else haunted her all night like the ghost it was.  It haunted her until her alarm went off at seven o’clock, and she realized she had nowhere to go that morning.  It haunted her as she made her coffee and turned on the news and found nothing interesting had happened, and there were no leads in the death of Bart Tompkins; it hadn’t even been ruled a homicide or suicide.  For now it was just suspicious.  It haunted Hannah until late that morning and there was a banging on her door, and two police standing in front of her.

“Are you here to give my wallet back?” Hannah asked.

The same woman as before stared her down, eyes narrow.  “We’re here to ask where you were last night?”

“Why?”

“Answer the question,” she ordered.  Her partner gave her a small elbow, all of them knowing Hannah didn’t have to say a thing if she didn’t want to.

“I was here,” she stated, “my neighbour saw me come in.  Ask him if you want, Officer…”  She pointed to the door beside hers, where she could hear Chuckles growling from the other side.

“Officer Martin,” the woman said.  “What time did you get in?”

“About eight,” Hannah said.  She wasn’t sure, really.  Last night was a memory of blurred action and vivid thoughts, and her watch was still set to the wrong time.  She might have been home but her head hadn’t left the alley.

“And you were here all night?” Martin asked.

“What is this regarding?” Hannah asked back.  The ghost that stood behind her and held her shoulders down vanished, and she was able to stand tall.  She seemed to tower over Officer Martin, who didn’t flinch beneath Hannah’s gaze.  Hannah made sure not to furrow her brow as her father did, and instead chose to look down her nose at Martin and the other officer.

“You were with Dane Hemlock last night,” the male officer stated.  Hannah finally read his nametag; Rowen. 

“I saw him at the Lux, yes,” Hannah said.  “I was there to see my friend.”

Martin nodded.  “Witnesses say you went into the alley with Hemlock and there was…moaning.”  The
alley
, Hannah thought,
not
an
alley
.  Her lips pursed, growing tired of this conversation already.  Her hand rested on the edge of the door, ready to slam it shut again when Martin inched forward.

Hannah watched her but didn’t move.  Martin said, “You were the last person seen with Dane Hemlock that evening and it would help our investigation if you would cooperate and tell us what you did with him in the alley.  There’s no denying you weren’t
with
him, like all the other women he’s taken a shine to.”

“I wasn’t with him,” Hannah denied.  But even if she was it was none of their business.  Annoyance crawled over Hannah and she wondered how she could have let her anger take over her so easily.  It was obvious how stupid that was, now.  “What investigation?”

“The investigation into his murder.”  Martin tilted her head and Hannah saw her lips twitch again.  She was enjoying this far too much, and she wanted a reaction out of Hannah more than any officer of the law should. 

Hannah raised her eyebrows to show as much disbelief as she could.  “You can’t be serious.”

Martin tilted her head a little more, seeing right through Hannah’s words.  That pinch in her chest was back.  Martin asked, “I can’t be serious that Hemlock is dead or that I think you killed him?”

“Martin, shut it,” Rowen hissed.  He laid his hand on her elbow, preparing to pull her away.  She yanked out of his grip and almost tripped into Hannah’s apartment.  Hannah doubted it was an accident.

“I think we’re done here,” Hannah stated.

“Yes,” Rowen agreed, “we are.  Officer Martin.”  He gave his partner a glare.  Martin gave him one right back before turning it on Hannah.  A lesser person would have given in to anything the woman wanted, maybe even given a false confession just to get out from under that deadly gaze.  But Hannah had experience with a deadly gaze, and Martin didn’t intimidate her.  Two weeks ago maybe she would have looked away, but now she wouldn’t. 
Couldn’t
, even.  Hannah realized it was impossible for her to show such weakness.

Martin blinked first, and when she did Hannah shut the door, making sure to give a small smirk to the officer first.  She peeked through the peephole to see the officer’s reaction but was disappointed to only catch a glimpse of a blonde ponytail vanishing on the edge of the glass.

Hannah fell back onto her heels, hands pressed against the door.  The emotion she had over Dane’s death wasn’t what she knew it should be.  It wasn’t sad or angry over the death of someone in the prime of their life; he had after all brought the hotel up to five-star status.  He nearly single-handedly brought Garnet’s Lake back from the depths of destruction.  It was sad that he was dead.

But Hannah didn’t feel sad.  Instead she was…curious.  Curious about how he’d died, how long it had taken.  Who would be so willing to murder the man and why?  She almost opened the door back up just to chase down the officers and get a good look at what was going on in her formerly quiet town; if she had enough time to talk with them she was certain she could make them tell her everything.  But she steeled herself, and knew she would have to wait.  Having too much curiosity in the investigation might look suspicious to certain people, namely Martin.

Before she could do anything there was something she had to take care of.

Hannah walked to her parent’s home for the second time that week, finding it funny that it took murder for her to see them more often.  She’d never described their relationship as strained, but she was never very close with them either; most days it felt like they simply didn’t want to see her.  It had never bothered her until recent events made it feel like something out of the ordinary.  If her parents didn’t want to see her because they didn’t need to then that was fine with her, not everyone needed the constantly stay in touch.  But if they no longer wanted to see her because they thought of her as a murderer, then she had a problem with that.  She would make them see her, whether they wanted to or not.

Unable to find them at their home, Hannah headed to church.  She hadn’t been there for quite some time, and she knew there would be some murmurs over her appearance.  All it took was murder to get her back to church, too, it seemed.

But as she made it to the old steeple, it’s point driving into the sky with fierce determination, she found it nearly empty.  Hannah looked at the bare parking lot and clean steps and was confused that nobody was there.  With the discovery of Dane’s body she thought everyone would be here praying for his soul.  And yet…the only person she could find was Father Tompkins.

“Hello, Father,” Hannah said, her voice echoing through the pews.  Nobody could even whisper in the church without everyone hearing it.  Hannah had loved that as a child—hearing everyone’s secrets.  They all knew they were broadcasted around the large church, but they spoke anyway.  It entertained her to no end.

“Hello, Hannah,” Father Tompkins replied.  He was the silver fox of Garnet’s Lake.  Tall and traditional, he looked quite a bit like Dane.  Hannah tilted her head at him with a gentle smile, noting that he tried to give her one back.  He turned to her from the pew beside her.  “What brings you here?”

“I’m looking for my parents,” she answered.  “But I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Bart—Bartholomew.”

Father Tompkins inhaled deeply and nodded, his hands clasped together in front of him.  He was wearing dark blue jeans and a black button-up shirt, the white collar showing through beneath his Adam’s apple.  “Thank you.”

Silence rang throughout the church.  Hannah began to sweat lightly in the heat, the dark red hues of her surroundings making it feel even hotter than it was.  Father Tompkins didn’t say anything else; he wasn’t giving any of his sage advice to her like she thought he would, nor was he talking about her parents or what she’d done.  It was comforting, in a way, but she thought that might have just been the church.  She’d always liked coming to church, even if she thought it was all silly stories.

“Would you like to sit down?” Father Tompkins asked.  “Or have you come to confess?”

Hannah looked to the two boxes she’d never sat in before.  They were small and stifling, and Hannah still couldn’t understand how confessing to the things she’d done would let her into Heaven.  She’d never done anything, in her mind, which needed confessing.  It felt like apologizing, and Hannah didn’t have anything to apologize for.