Trial by Fire (27 page)

She virtually purred. “The more likely occurrence, Commander, was that I would divorce him. It’s been my experience just as with Nate, men don’t tire of me. On the other hand… I’m adventurous. I like… new things.” She openly perused him. “New
kinds
of experiences.”

Nate chortled. Sam managed not to blush, and merely consulted his notes.

“Did Mike have insurance?”

“Yes. Some. Mostly on the business. Key man insurance and the like. The business, not an individual would benefit. “

“I see. And his personal wealth?”

Laura shrugged, a tiny smile curling her lips. Tapping a sharp bright red enameled fingernail against the table, once again, she dared him.

“It’s significant.”

Chapter 26

Laura shoved down her annoyance. So the handsome commander hadn’t buckled. He’d pretended he wasn’t interested. She snorted and reminded herself that it wasn’t as though he could ultimately resist her. It was only a matter of time. She’d pretend to be surprised when he found an excuse to come to her house. To ask her a question, he’d “forgotten” to ask. God. Men were so transparent. So predictable.

Too bad for the hunky commander. And he was a hunk. Mmm. All that dark skin and a body that screamed sex. She giggled. Commander. That’s what he told her to call him. She tugged at her lip with her sharp teeth. We’ll see, Mr. “tall, dark, and handsome,” who’s the commander….

But as enticing as he was, Commander Carter was nothing compared to the man that she knew had watched the scene play out from behind the one-way mirror. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, imagining Nate watching her. Her body quivered at the thought. Was he still angry with her? Probably. But, he’d get over it. Then again, anger wasn’t all bad. In the right men, it was an aphrodisiac. The trigger that blew away restraint. Engendered passion. She smiled. Passion was much too tame a word, a concept. She preferred rough, hard sex. The kind she knew simmered beneath the surface of one overwhelmingly sexy man. She caught her thoughtful reflection. What was it about Nate that made him such a draw? That she was willing to… she smiled. Willing to do anything she had to—whatever was necessary to snare him? To convince him that there was one woman and one woman only who was his match.

She tugged her knee-high stiletto boots over her tights. The black leather bomber jacket hanging open over her bustier completed the picture. Tucking a pair of leather gloves into her oversized shoulder bag, she ran through a mental inventory. Pistol, check. Knifes? Two of them. Matches? Those were for later but she wouldn’t be coming home in between. Condoms? Of course. Oh, she almost forgot. She stopped in the garage on her way to her Jag convertible and took a handful of zip-ties from her tool kit. So much more convenient than rope. And more effective. Impossible to take off without a knife. And she would be the only one holding a knife tonight.

~~~

She let herself in with her key, taking care not to make noise. She wanted to surprise him. Sneak up on him. To make sure he’d done what she told him to do. She knew he would. He was such a pussy. She purposefully was late. Let him stew. Worry that she might not come. She knew that the anticipation was intoxicating. Like all her erotic weapons she used it to heighten his tension. Make him even needier than he already was.

The lamp in his study cast eerie shadows across the room. As expected, Sherm was in place. She could smell his anxious sweat from the doorway. Mixed with his arousal, it was a heady odor. One she’d caused before she’d even entered. As instructed he was naked, standing on a three foot stool, a noose around his neck. He’d secured the end of the rope to a reinforced hook on the ceiling beam. He was holding a heavy plastic bag. She always brought the zip-ties.

They’d been toying with erotic asphyxiation for some time. Sherm was a natural for the dangerous practice. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he was a ‘gasper.’ Anything for a high. He insisted he’d never climaxed as excruciatingly as he did when they cut off his oxygen just as he ejaculated. Said it was like mainlining an eightball of crack and heroin. The stunning thing to Laura was how willing he was to give the control to her. He was certain she’d cut him down at just the right moment. And she usually did.

But tonight she’d planned a variation on the usual theme. It was a surprise. A niggling part of her hoped that he would go out riding the crest of a climax. It was the part that appreciated the fact that the clueless man had inadvertently made her tasks so much easier. Ultimately what he did in his last seconds were not her concern. She had enough to do without worrying about his pleasure or lack of it.

She circled him, smiling at the way his eyes widened in excitement at the sight of her.

“I see my sugar buns is all ready for a night of pleasure.”

At his low animal growl of anticipation, she drew on her leather gloves and tucked several zip-ties into her jacket pocket. She pushed a chair next to him and clambered up onto it. When she stood up straight she was a couple of inches taller than he was.

His breaths were coming in short pants. Almost gasps. Her voice was low, husky.

“Are you ready, baby? Ready to fly?”

Knowing he was not permitted to speak, Sherm merely groaned in affirmation.

“Let’s tie your hands behind your back, first, sugar buns. Just to make sure you can’t change your mind.”

Sherman shivered with anticipation when she pulled the ties tight. Reaching for the thick plastic bag he clutched in his hand, Laura draped it over his head. With a quick twist she knotted it at the base of his skull then whipped the longer tie she’d brought around his neck and snapped it tight.

The bag instantly clouded with moisture from his gasping breaths, but she could see his eyes widen in a mix of terror and excitement.

She climbed down from her chair and smiled up at him. She gave him a small salute and kicked the stool from beneath him. Fortunately, his muffled cries of surprise lasted a reasonably short time.

Meanwhile, she had a message to write. Ignoring the frantic kicks of the man swinging wildly beside her, she opened his computer and pulled up his e-mail. Her long practice writing messages to Nate had made her a virtual speed demon on the computer. Her message was involved, it needed to be exactly right. By the time she’d finished, Sherm had stopped thrashing. Knowing he’d evacuate his bowels at any minute, to avoid the unpleasant sight, she quickly cut the ties securing his hands and surveyed the room. Confirming that the scene was exactly right, she headed for the door.

As she revved up her racy sports car and backed out of the driveway, Laura allowed herself a satisfied smile. The night had begun well. The following act would be the most interesting. Surprisingly, her next target had thus far been more of an adversary than she’d expected. Who would have thought the little firefighter had a backbone? But then, Laura knew what she was willing to do to capture Nate. Her shrill laugh shattered the still, dark night. Let Erin try to put up a fight. All the better for the scene. The more realistic, the better.

~~~

“You weren’t half bad, hotshot. You managed not to respond to at least half of her ‘come-ons.’”

Gazing at him from across his desk, Nate grinned at the flush of crimson that stained Sam’s cheeks.

Sam muttered, “Thanks, I guess.”

“No, buddy. You did great. We got what we needed and more. She was doing her best to torment you, and you survived. Good work.”

Sam breathed a loud sigh. “You know this, Nate, but I’m going to say it aloud, for the record. The woman is certifiable. A Grade A, First Class Sociopath. She could be a case study in any psychology department. They could write textbooks around her.”

“I’ve never put a label on her, but now that you say it, Sam, you’re probably right. Not that it excuses her, but at least it explains some of her actions.”

“The clincher was when she calmly asserted that she’d sent you over a hundred messages and that even though you hadn’t responded, she was sure you would. That’s how twisted her view of reality is.”

Nate murmured. “Hadn’t thought of it that way. I will tell you that I appreciated the hell out of you for getting her on record saying that I never responded to her.”

“It was essential. For the record, and especially for you, Nate. The rest of us believed you, but I wanted to hear her say it.”

Nate remembered how the grip on his chest loosened when Laura confirmed that he hadn’t played her game. That Sam understood the importance of that was further confirmation of what a great guy he was.

Nate glanced down at his watch. After the interview with Laura, Dan had gone to Judge Simpson to get a warrant to search Sherman Klein’s house. Dan and an evidence team were on their way to Klein’s house now. Nate had ordered two squads. Assuming Klein was home, he told Dan to “invite” him to come to the station for an interview. Nate huffed a short laugh, remembering Dan’s response, “Yeah, I’ll offer him a ride. How can he refuse?”

Nate’s gut told him Sherman wouldn’t resist. Sherman had been nervous as hell the first time he interviewed him. In ten minutes he’d shot to the top of Nate’s list of suspects. Even though it was obvious that Laura had thrown him under the bus, her insights helped confirm the fact that Sherman had more than enough reasons to want to kill Mike.

As if reading his mind, Sam observed, “For some reason, I can’t picture Klein being the one who tortured Mike. Your instincts are a matter of record, Nate. What’s your sense?”

“Interesting you ask that, Sam. I agree. There’s nothing in Klein’s background that indicates a familiarity with whips or weapons of any kind. He was never in the military and, hell, the guy doesn’t even hunt. Now, in Northern Minnesota that makes him suspect for other reasons. At least he likes to fish. It’s why I’ve been pushing Eric as hard as I can on this BDSM crap. It could be that’s where he learned to use a whip. If, and it is always an if, he is our murderer.

Jerking his phone out of his pocket, seeing the caller I.D. he put it on speaker.

“What’s up, Dan?”

“Let me put it this way, Nate. Don’t think Klein will be coming back to the station tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because as far as I know, we send dead bodies to the morgue.”

“Jesus, Dan.”

“Nate, you don’t know the half of it. Get here as quick as you can. The emergency team is arriving as we speak.”

Chapter 27

Nate circled the body, shaking his head at the sight. Damn, nothing like the most bizarre case he’d ever had getting crazier. He stepped back to take in the whole room. He’d seen autoerotic asphyxia cases before. They were always difficult. Accidental deaths that never should have happened, but often did. On several occasions, the families tried to “clean” up the scene, not wanting anyone to know how their loved one died. They preferred that the cops think it was suicide. While Nate understood the impulse, it made their jobs harder.

They’d picked up the Chief on the way over. Shaking his head, the older man came over to stand by Nate, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.

“What’s your read, Nate?”

“Damned if I know, Chief. If we take it at face value, it seems that Sherm accidentally killed himself.”

“But?”

Nate threw his mentor a knowing glance.

“But, something’s off. I can’t seem to grab hold of it, but it’s almost too neat.”

“You thinking it’s suicide?”

“If it is, why the hell would he go to this trouble to create the scene?”

The clopping of boots on the wooden floor signaled the entrance of uniformed firefighters, often the first team at a death scene. Along with the EMT’s they were part of the first responders. In the absence of a coroner, they were often the ones who’d pronounce the body dead.

Knowing that he always followed his team, Nate was gratified to see Connor rounding the corner.

Connor stood in the doorway taking in the scene, shaking his head.

Catching his gaze, he walked over to join Nate who was standing off to the side with Sam and the Chief.

“Holy fucking God! What the hell is going on, Nate?”

“That’s a damn good question, Cuz. Hanging here before you is our number one suspect in the murder of Mike Peterson. I guess we’re supposed to believe that as the net was closing in on him, he decided to get his rocks off.”

“You think it’s a set-up?”

“I don’t know
what
I think. I just know that if these heebie jeebies don’t stop crawling up the back of my neck I’m gonna need a skin graft.”

The Chief’s frown deepened.

“I don’t know, Nate. I’ve got a lot of respect for the back of your neck. Can’t remember when it’s ever let us down.”

At that moment Pete Larson, head of the technical team, jumped to his feet.

“Fuckin’A! Detective, you better get over here. Looks like our friend, Sherman, or ‘Sherm,’ as he calls himself here, wanted to make a confession. Not to us. But to her.”

“Her?”

Nate plopped down in the seat that Pete vacated and turned the computer screen toward himself.

Turning to the group crowding around them, Pete answered Nate’s question.

“‘Her’ is Mrs. Peterson, or as he calls her, ‘Lover Doll.’”

Ignoring the widespread gasps from the team, Nate sped through the draft e-mail, his eyes widening as he read. He spit out bursts of information as he read..

“It’s a suicide note. To Laura. Apparently he didn’t push send becuz it’s stuck in his drafts. If Pete wasn’t so damned smart, we might never have found it.”

Pete gave a dismissive shake of his head.

“Give us more credit than that, Nate. Not much gets by me no matter how deep they try to bury it. Hell, this was just sitting in the ready pile. He musta forgot to hit send.”

Nate broke in as he continued to read. “Didn’t mean to insult you, Pete. Still just tryin’ to grasp the magnitude of this.”

He shook his head in amazement.

“Damn! He confesses to everything. Killing Mike. Setting up the off-shore accounts. Having a kinky lifestyle. Damn, I’m surprised he didn’t confess to kicking his dog.”

Nate scrolled back to the top and began rereading, muttering under his breath.