Chapter 10 Dominic
Dominic
Shane shakes his head, and I adjust my headphones as Hannah tackles another Call Me Anytime caller while we listen from the van.
We’re going on nearly two full days of using our wiretap, and I thought, with our patience and reassurance, Hannah would eventually start to calm down and get into her phone sex flow. But if this call is anything to go by, we’re going to be sailing the rough seas for a while.
Trust me, I can imagine how unnerving it would be to have police listening in while you take call after call from horny bastards who could potentially be our killer, but Shane has the list of callers, along with their numbers, we’ve been collecting—and while we marked some to look into further, by and large, nothing has really pinged our radar.
Well, besides the fact that Hannah is vastly underwhelming at sexing men up over the phone.
Truth be told, it’s gotten to a point where I’m starting to wonder if we’re being pranked.
“Ohhh, I knowww, Hank,” she says, dragging her words out for dramatic effect.
On the last call, she was short and choppy.
On this one, she’s talking in both slow motion and rhyme.
“So lowww, so many toes. When my feet meet your meat, it’s going to be so, so .
. . neat. And a lot of heat . . . all up in my little beaver beat. ”
Shane groans, and I roll my eyes before whispering harshly into the silence of the van, “What the fuck is happening?”
“Touch my cock, Ruby,” the caller demands shamelessly, which makes my head fall back and my hands come up to pantomime choking myself.
I don’t know how these women do this day after day, truly.
I also don’t know how this dude is this excitable when Hannah’s saying shit like beaver beat into his ear.
“Oh, I’m touuuching it, Hank,” Hannah replies, her voice nearly an octave deeper as she trains it to be “sexy.” “I’m gonna tickle that pickle, and I won’t be fickle.”
Earlier today, she referred to a guy’s dick as the captain and pretended her pussy was a sinking boat that needed him to come on board and plug the holes. She said ahoy no fewer than fifteen times.
I don’t know if she’s working off a script or if she’s just coming up with this shit on the fly, but nevertheless, most of what she says defies logic.
“Put my cock in your mouth,” Hank says, still balls deep in excitement.
“But Hank, what a big cock you have,” Hannah says, pretending to be surprised.
I nod along, feeling like maybe she’s going to guide him in a direction that makes sense.
But that thought lasts only until her next words.
“The better to . . . fuck me?” she questions and then gasps.
“But Hank, what big balls you have!” She pauses.
“The better to . . . fill me up with . . . with lots of semen?”
“Is she quoting Little Red Riding Hood?” I whisper, my jaw gaping.
“Kill me now,” Shane mutters, and I yank off my headphones and tap him on the shoulder, shoving out of my chair.
Shane pulls his headphones behind his ears and looks up at me expectantly. “What?”
“I’m going in there for a minute. We can’t go on like this.”
“What are you going to do, man?” he asks through a laugh as I climb out of the van.
I lean back inside the door and shrug. “I don’t know. But I have to do something.”
“Good luck, Cowboy,” Shane says mockingly, and my only answer is to promptly slide the door closed.
I look both ways, noting a completely empty sidewalk in front of the nondescript warehouse that hosts Call Me Anytime’s headquarters, and then walk inside.
I take the stairs two at a time as I climb to the second floor and open the main door, cruising straight down the hall to the locked door that leads to the women currently working the lines.
I punch in the security code Margo shared with us at the end of last week, ensuring I shut the door with a click behind me.
Slowly and as quietly as I can, I make my way to the very last booth, bathed in red, the sounds of moans and fake orgasms filling my ears with each step.
Hannah is finishing up the call but notices me right away, her eyes going wide with panic as she tries to find a way to get Hank off the line.
I gesture toward the ground in a signal to calm down before stepping inside her small red-lit booth, where I squat down beside her as she bumbles her way through the end of the call.
The close proximity brings an unexpected envelopment of her soft cinnamon-vanilla scent. She smells good—really good, frankly—but I’m not here to admire her perfume.
She brushes some of her long brown hair over her shoulder and adjusts her pretty white dress away from her brown, knee-high boots.
For all intents and purposes, Hannah May doesn’t look the part of a phone sex operator.
If I saw her out in public, I’d guess she worked in the fashion industry or had one of those social media jobs where women show off their outfit of the day and shit.
“Herk and jerk that thing, Hank,” she orders, leaning forward to look at an open notebook on her desk and running her finger down a handwritten list. “If your schlong is long, double up your hands and send it to the moon!”
I have to actively work to keep from laughing aloud.
“Bingo bango, Hanky Panky. Tell me how you’re feeling.”
I can’t hear what he says now that I don’t have my headphones on, so I’m left with only her response afterward.
“Oh yesss. Go deeper then.” She raps her fingernails on her desk, and I don’t miss the pretty display of gold and shiny rings she has on her fingers. “Deeper and deeper, right to the end of my meeper.”
Meeper? What in the hell?
“Meep-meep. Meep-meep.” She chirps like a fucking car horn until I snap my fingers in front of her face to stop her.
Her eyes become focused again and she leans back in her chair, reciting into the line in a speedy voice, “Thanks for calling Ruby’s line and letting me make your dreams come true. Call me anytime!”
With a quick click and a groan, she hangs up the call before turning her chair to face me, her expression dejected. “Please tell me you’re here because that was him.”
I shake my head, and she lets out an exasperated groan that blows pieces of her silky hair away from her face.
“What is it then?” she asks with a grimace. “And don’t say I’m being aggressive, because I’m not!” She points one determined index finger in my direction. “I haven’t yelled at one guy all day today!”
“Easy there. I know you haven’t. But, uh . . . something is still off.” I assess her face closely. “Are you feeling uncomfortable about us listening? Because I promise, we’re just here to do our jobs.”
“I’m fine!” she answers in a huff, dropping her hands onto her desk with a thud. “I’m just doing my job too.”
I eye her knowingly, more than ready for her to tell me she’s been screwing with me and Shane with these weird-as-fuck calls, but she looks at me with nothing but puzzlement in the depths of her pretty brown eyes.
“Hannah,” I say softly, my voice edging toward disbelief. “Come on.”
She lifts her shoulders. “Come on what?”
“Hannah. Listening to these calls . . . genuinely, you’re saying some of the craziest shit I’ve ever heard in my life, and I’m a murder detective.”
“I’m just saying all the sex things like I’m supposed to, Mr. Detective,” she snaps. “Maybe you haven’t been paying attention.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. I’ve been listening so closely to her calls that I fear my ears might start bleeding soon.
“Hannah, I’ve been paying so much attention, I’m starting to doubt you’re even human anymore.
These calls are . . .” I pause, trying to find the best words to convey the reality of our situation.
“A little weird. I mean, some of the callers—quite a few, actually—have even chosen to end the conversation before they come.”
“So? Maybe they’re, like, busy? Maybe they’re getting a call from their doctor?” She holds out two hands in front of her. “I don’t know what these men are doing on the other end of the line. I just tell them all the sex things. Newsflash, Dom, that’s my job.”
She tells them “all the sex things”? What? In the form of nursery rhymes?
“Hannah.” I blink and she narrows her eyes at me.
“What?”
“Come on. You know this isn’t how these calls are supposed to go. I mean, have you even been around sex before?”
“No!” She slams her hands down on the desk, and my chin jerks back as she leans forward with wild eyes, shock piercing my chest like the tip of a knife.
“I haven’t, actually. I’m a virgin doing phone sex and involved in a murder investigation, Detective!
I’ve never done phone sex before and I’ve never actually had sex before, so I think we can agree that when you add in the whole catch-a-murderer thing, we’ve got a messed-up situation! ”
Did she just say she’s never done phone sex before and she’s a virgin? My mind scrambles, but Hannah is on a roll and her voice is rising with each word as her mouth moves a mile a minute.
“I took this job because of a reverse mortgage that’s riding my ass, and now I’m involved in an actual murder investigation.
I’m stuck in this sex cubicle, trying to catch a murderer, and I am grabbing every word out of my ass!
” She throws her head back with a laugh that borders on frenzied, and I glance over her shoulder to see that some of the other women are standing up from their desks now, looking in our direction.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I lick my lips and stand from my squat, pulling Hannah up by the elbow and directing her away from her desk. Before we go, I hit the “off duty” button on her phone line and remove her headset, talking directly into the microphone. “Shane, we’re taking a break.”
I place the headset on her desk and walk calmly down the aisle between cubicles, Hannah’s elbow still gently in my clasp as her breathing escalates, higher and higher with every step.
I lead her out the door and then to the stairwell.
“Relax. It’s okay,” I try to cajole her, but she yanks her elbow out of my grasp and lets out several shaky breaths before jogging down the stairs on quick feet.
I speed up and get in front of her to push the exit door open, then follow her out onto the sidewalk, where she bends over and puts her hands on her knees.
Her breathing has taken on a keening wail, and I rub at her upper back as Shane peeks out the open door of the van.
He glances up and down the street before waving us inside.
It’s a good idea, getting in there rather than being exposed out here, so I usher Hannah into the van without saying anything and then get her settled on the bench behind the caged wall that blocks the driver and passenger seats from view.
Once I shut the door behind us, I squat down in front of her.
Shane takes his seat in the back, near our laptops and wiretap equipment, his hands steepled in front of him and his eyes toward his lap.
I know with certainty he heard every bit of Hannah’s outburst and that he’s absolutely combusting from the energy it’s taking him not to say anything right now.
Sex hotlines, murders, and virgins all together in one pretty package.
This is more complicated than either of us thought, and I never would have been so harsh about her performance had I known all the circumstances.
My God. A virgin. Doing phone sex. I’m impressed she’s made it this long without a breakdown.
“Are you okay, Hannah?” I ask, trying to keep my voice gentle enough that it doesn’t set her off again.
“No.” She shakes her head, laughing sardonically.
“I am not okay. What in the hell was I thinking? Phone sex as a virgin?” She cackles.
“I’m so, so out of my depth here, it isn’t even funny.
” Her eyes move to my face and then Shane’s for the briefest of moments.
“And now, not only am I trying to do phone sex with absolutely zero sexual knowledge, but I get to do it while the two of you listen to every freaking call because you’re trying to catch a deranged psycho killer!
” Her laugh is frantic. “A lunatic who killed the girl who was on the very same line as me!”
I don’t even know what to say at this point, no matter how driven I am to comfort her. She’s right. The whole thing is a monstrosity.
A phone sex virgin, and two guys in a van.
I swear, I can’t make this shit up.