Love you to Death (10 page)

His dick swelled and twitched below his belt, and he quickly moved his thoughts elsewhere before he got carried away and had to face Elise with an embarrassing hard-on. He wasn’t sure who it would be more embarrassing for, but he wasn’t exactly dying to find out.

Like the rest of the place, the bar was crowded, and there wasn’t an empty seat to be had this time, so Trent found them a relatively open spot between two men. Nothing like being surrounded by burly guys to show off just how sweet and sexy Elise was.

Honey
. He was dying to watch her go to work on this guy, while simultaneously dreading it. He didn’t like the idea of her using her body to get information, but even more, he didn’t like the idea of her doing it with a guy who dyed his chest hair and oozed slimy intentions.

Trent felt the change in her demeanor as she shimmied up between the seated men. Her movement went from a form of locomotion to something more silky and fluid. She gave each man flanking her a coy smile, then turned that smile on the bartender.

He sloshed some vodka into a glass and shoved it in the general direction of the customer who’d ordered it. The whole while, he was leering at Elise, licking his lips.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Threesome,” he said.

The men beside her both turned and stared at her as soon as they heard that.

Trent was right behind her, close enough to touch, but not doing so, watching her face in the mirrored backsplash. Her grin widened and she leaned on the bar, pressing her breasts upward on display.

“In the flesh,” she told him.

“Lots of it, too. What can I get you, sugar?”

“Tickets to your back room.”

The bartender looked up at Trent, then back at her. “I only have one left.”

Elise pouted, and if it wasn’t the sexiest damn thing Trent had ever seen, he didn’t know what was.

“Spoilsport.”

“Sorry. I’m not into guys.”

“Then I’d make him watch. He likes to watch.”

Holy shit. She was pushing too far, tempting fate, offering something Trent would never let her give.

He put his hand on her bare back in silent warning. Supple muscles rippled under her skin as she straightened her spine, but she gave no indication that she’d understood his warning.

Was she desperate enough to actually go through with her promise? Would she fuck this guy if it got her a peek at the security tapes?

Desperate.

Over Trent’s dead body. Either the guy would let her see them or he wouldn’t. Sex wasn’t going to change a thing.

“We just want to talk,” said Trent, butting in before she got herself in too deep. “That’s it.”

“Is this about that girl you’re looking for? I saw her picture on the news today.” He looked down at Elise. “I saw you, too. I know you’re just playing me with that whole threesome bit.”

Elise moved back from the edge of the bar, taking her breasts off display. Thank God.

The movement pressed her more fully against his palm until he could feel the delicate bones of her spine. Trent should have pulled away, but he couldn’t. He left his hand right there, bathing in the softness of her skin, the damp warmth her body was putting off.

“Please, just give me a few minutes. I’ll pay you for your time,” said Elise.

The bartender’s eyes brightened at the promise of cash, but he shook his head. “Sorry. I’m too busy tonight.”

“Don’t they give you a break?”

“Breaks don’t earn tips.”

“I want to talk to the owner,” said Elise.

“She’s out of town. I’m in charge.”

It was a lie. Trent could smell the man’s deception all the way across the bar.

“Please,” begged Elise. “My sister was in here Friday. She left with some guy and we need to see your security tapes.”

“No way. Not without a warrant.”

“What are you trying to hide?” asked Trent.

“I’m not trying to hide anything. I’m trying to protect business. If I go letting you snoop through my tapes, it’ll drive away a lot of customers. Do you have any idea how many of the guys in here are married?”

The man on Elise’s left stood up and moved away so fast he nearly knocked a waitress down.

“See?” said the bartender. “You’re driving people away. Now leave or I’ll have you escorted out.”

“If you kick us out, we’ll be coming back here with the cops,” warned Elise.

“Fine, bring ’em on. Tell ’em to bring a warrant or I’ll kick them out, too.”

They weren’t going to get anywhere like this. Trent took ahold of Elise’s arm and gave her a small tug. “Come on. We’ll call Bob and do this by the book.”

Elise let him lead her back through the throng toward the door. “We need to tell him to hurry. I don’t trust that man not to destroy the evidence just to protect his cheating clientele.”

“Neither do I.”

Trent looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, the slimy bartender had gotten a waitress to take his place, and was headed toward a door marked “
EMPLOYEES ONLY
.”

As soon as they got outside, Trent dialed Bob Tindle. Bob wasn’t going to enjoy getting another late call, but that was just too bad.

Steve hated leaving voice mail, but he had no choice. “Just had a couple of people snooping around here, asking questions about the girl your brother was with Friday night. Smells like trouble. If you want to hear more, come to Sally’s. And bring plenty of cash.”

He hung up the phone and it began to ring almost immediately.

“Sally’s,” he answered.

“Never leave a message like that for me again,” said the man on the line.

Steve recognized his holier-than-thou tone in a heartbeat. Lawrence Maitland, the owner of one of the most well-respected funeral homes in the area. Word was he dabbled in more than just bodies, but Steve wasn’t stupid enough to repeat any of the gossip. He liked breathing too much.

“Pick up your goddamn phone, then,” griped Steve. “You’re the one who asked me to keep an eye on your brother. Don’t go getting all pissy with me when I do what you asked.”

“I offered to pay you. I expect you to behave in a professional manner.”

“I called and told you within seconds of them leaving. That’s about as professional as you can get.”

“Who was there?” asked Lawrence.

“The girl’s sister and some guy. I’d bet money he’s a cop.”

“What did they want?”

“To see the security footage from Friday night.”

“Gary was there?”

“Yeah. He left here with a blond chick.” Gary liked blondes. Steve had never seen him with anyone else.

There was a long silence on the end of the line before Lawrence came back on, issuing orders like he owned the place. “Destroy those tapes. Destroy any backups. If you have any receipts tying Gary to your establishment, destroy them as well. If this man was a cop, he’ll be back, and when he is, I don’t want there to be one scrap of evidence left for him to find.”

“Whoa,” said Steve. “You’re not pulling me into this mess. I’m not destroying anything.”

“How much?” asked Lawrence, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Five grand. In cash. And I want it here tonight.”

“Fine. I’ll have the delivery made before you close. But keep in mind that you’ll be asked to show proof you’ve already complied before payment is made.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll kill the video. He paid in cash, so that’s not an issue.” Gary Maitland always paid in cash, as did all the other people here who didn’t want a spouse to track them down.

“Good. At least he wasn’t that stupid.”

“This is the second time he’s walked away from my bar with a girl who never showed up again. I have no idea what he’s doing with these broads, but it can’t be good.”

“That is none of your affair. I expect you to keep your mouth prudently shut.”

Steve did not dare let the words “or else what?” leave his lips. He bit down on the smart-ass reply until he thought he’d draw blood. “I will.”

“See that you do. I’ll be watching.”

♥ Uploaded by Coral ♥

D
etective Ed Woodward hated visits to the morgue. The chilly, sterile stench of the place never failed to turn his stomach.

“Couldn’t this wait until morning?” he asked Dr. Foster.

“Why? You got someplace better to be?”

Dr. Foster looked younger than she was. She had to. There was no way they’d let a twenty-year-old perform autopsies. She didn’t even look old enough to have graduated college, much less med school.

Her dark hair was tied back away from her face in a severe bun, and even though her eyes were devoid of makeup, she still had the longest, darkest eyelashes Ed had ever seen.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

She looked up at him in jaded disbelief. “Hot date?”

“Ball game on TV.”

“Ah. TV. Haven’t watched it since I was a kid.”

Ed bit back his reply that she still
was
a kid. “Just tell me what you’ve got, so I can get back to my worthless existence.”

Dr. Foster pulled open a refrigerated drawer and extracted a tray like the one Ed had eaten lunch on today. She set it down on a stainless-steel table and carefully peeled back the white cloth covering the lumps on the tray.

It was a severed hand. A woman’s severed hand. The flesh had barely started to decay, and the manicure was still perfect, glowing bloodred against the pale skin.

Ed’s stomach heaved, but he kept his frozen pizza down. No way was he puking up his guts in front of the kid.

“Where did it come from?” he asked, working hard to put an edge of clinical detachment in his tone.

“Some teens found it along the river and brought it to the hospital.”

Great. They’d probably destroyed the scene, assuming they could even remember where it was.

“I assume there’s a reason you called me instead of whoever had the pleasure of investigating the kids’ story.”

“I’ve always loved jigsaw puzzles. How about you?”

“Not really.”

“You should give them a try. They’re incredibly relaxing and satisfying.”

Ed preferred his satisfying relaxation in the form of a cold beer or a hot woman. “Sure. I’ll get right on that. Is there a point here?”

“I have an eye for matching pieces, which is why I saw the match right away.”

“What match?”

“The body you brought in this morning? This hand goes with it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am. The sawed ends of the bones are a perfect fit. A jury might not be convinced without a DNA test, but I’m confident the results would come back positive for a match on tissue samples.”

Ed trusted her judgment. He’d worked with Dr. Foster before and she’d always been completely competent and professional. For a child.

“Who was assigned the case?”

Dr. Foster handed Ed a file folder. He flipped through the pages until he found the report and the cop who’d written it. “Mind if I make copies?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Ed turned to leave, glad to be getting out of there.

“Wait. I didn’t tell you the cool part.”

Oh, no. Anything she thought was cool was going to end up making him sick. As it was, he was never going to be able to eat off one of those lunch trays ever again.

“What?”

“The hand is less decayed than the body it belongs to.”

“So, what? The guy kept it in a freezer or something after he dumped the body?”

“He must have, but there’s something odd. See these marks here?”

Ed looked because he was paid to, not because he enjoyed it. She pointed at the severed edge to small dots spaced evenly along the skin.

“It looks like there were sutures here,” she said.

“The hand was sewn on?”

“Yeah, only there were no matching marks on the body.”

“Then what?”

Dr. Foster shrugged. “I’d only be guessing, but it seems odd to have the stitches here unless the hand was sewn onto someone else. Or some
thing
else, I suppose.”

That pizza was not going to stay down much longer. “Did you see any sign of sutures on the wrists of the other handless Jane Does?”

“No.”

“Could you have missed it?”

“No,” she said with total confidence. “I’m good at what I do, Detective Woodward.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t. I’m just trying to figure things out here.”

“Besides, the last two bodies were different blood types than this one. If someone had tried to transplant a hand, the tissue would have been rejected immediately.”

“So, some guy is lopping off women’s hands to sew them onto someone else? Like black-market organ transplants?”

“If the person who did this was connected to that kind of business, then why didn’t he take the heart, kidneys, and liver? There’s a huge market for those.”