Chapter 44
Zane
The next morning, before leaving my room, I read the text Lucas had sent me before I’d woken.
LUCAS: FYI Suspect is in critical condition. Survival unsure. He’s been identified as Evan Halligan of Cambridge, Mass.
LUCAS: Need you in the office first thing.
The strangler now had a name, one that would join Jeffrey Dahmer and Ted Bundy in infamy. I replied to his message before pocketing the phone.
ME: I’ll be in.
After dressing, I strolled into the kitchen.
Mom was at the stove.
“Good morning, Ruppie.”
“Something smells good,” I replied.
Peyton closed the fridge and held up a pitcher. “O-J?”
“Sure.”
She poured a glass. “How’d you sleep?” That was the question I’d be expecting every day for quite a while now.
“Fine, Angel. How about you?”
She set the pitcher down and sauntered toward me. “I missed you.”
I opened my arms to greet my perky ray of sunshine.
I’d insisted she couldn’t wake me, or even enter my bedroom until I woke up and came out.
Pulling my woman lightly into my arms, I kissed her quickly.
I didn’t want to hurt the cuts on her stomach.
She felt perfect against me. She was a mix of warm and soft, a perfect way to start the morning.
She looked up and tilted her head. “Any?”
“None,” I confirmed. As was my habit, I’d glanced to both sides of the bed, and confirmed that the lamps and nightstands hadn’t been demolished. I also hadn’t been sweaty or torn the sheets off the bed.
This morning, the alarm on my phone had woken me to an empty room and cold sheets beside me. Oh, how I wished I could wake up someday like a normal boyfriend with my hand cradling Peyton’s warm soft breast and my morning wood poking her backside. That was the goal.
For today, I’d have to settle for running my hand up her side and palming her breast between us where Mom couldn’t see.
It wasn’t an adequate substitute for the hour and a half of make-up sex that we’d been robbed of yesterday when the entire Hawk crew had shown up to check on Peyton. But I’d get her alone sometime today.
I finally released my woman. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Beef stroganoff,” Mom replied. “I started it last night, and I’m not letting it go to waste.”
Peyton shrugged. “Sounds good to me. Now sit your ass down and let us take care of everything.”
I did, and pulled the brown package on the table closer to inspect it.
“That came for you yesterday,” Mom explained. “It must be valuable. They almost didn’t let me sign for it.”
Recognizing the sender’s address, I ripped at the paper. “It is.”
I turned away from Peyton and opened the cardboard. “Peyton. Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Don’t be a brat,” Mom warned.
With a sigh, Peyton gave in and pinched her eyes closed.
I took her arm and placed the box with the familiar gold crown in her hand. “Okay.”
Peyton’s eyes widened at the sight. “What is this?”
“I had your watch repaired.”
She put the box down and recoiled. “I don’t know if I want that. It’s brought me nothing but bad luck. I mean, Cassie gave it to me, but it came from Lucifer. It’s the reason he was after me.”
I took her hand. “That’s over now, and you said it reminded you of your friend.”
She softened and opened the box. “It does.”
“Angel, it’s a real Rolex, and worth a lot. You can trade it for another if you don’t want to keep this one.”
“What?” Her expression was pure surprise. “Cassie told me it was a fake.”
I shook my head. “Not according to the dealer.”
Mom walked over. “Sure looks nice. I’ll take it if you don’t want it.”
Hesitantly, Peyton stroked the watch, then got up on her toes to kiss me. “You’re so sweet.”
“You hear that, Ruppie? You’re sweet.”
“That’s enough, Mom,” I growled.
Peyton beamed as she strapped the watch on her wrist. “I’ll keep it. It’s what Cassie would have wanted.”
Mom and Peyton got back to cooking, and I sat quietly watching the two important women in my life.
When the crew arrived yesterday, Mom complained, but put aside making the stroganoff for dinner, as pizza and beer became the menu for the large crowd.
We celebrated the end of the Boyfriend Strangler’s reign of terror.
According to Lucas, he was still in critical condition in the hospital, but he might live.
Since neither Massachusetts nor California exercised capital punishment any longer, he’d be behind bars for the rest of his life if he did.
After dinner last night, Lucas had taken me aside to talk about my nightmare issue. He’d promised to get me a good referral today for somebody to talk to.
A head doc hadn’t been on my radar, but I agreed to go with it at least for a while after Lucas had insisted it helped his men. I’d pay any price to get to a place where I wasn’t a danger to Peyton.
“What smells so good?” A bleary-eyed Pete arrived in the kitchen.
Mom repeated herself.
When I gave Pete a quizzical look, he explained. “Lucas said I couldn’t drive last night.”
“He was plastered,” Mom added. “So I put him in the corner room.”
I nodded. “Good call.” It bothered me that I hadn’t noticed Pete’s condition last night. Was my focus on Peyton screwing up my observational abilities? Actually, obsession was probably a better word than focus.
Peyton didn’t give Pete a choice. She poured a glass of juice and handed it to him. “Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, taking a quick gulp.
My phone rang in my pocket. When I fished it out, it said unknown number, but I answered it anyway. “Hello?”
“March, this is Detective O’Connor.”
“Hi.”
“I’ll get right to the point,” the detective said. “The dirtbag… We now know his name is Halligan. Well, it looks like he’s going to live.”
I shook my head, having nothing to say about that.
“Anyway, I officially arrested him for one of the murders back home, and I need to get your girl, Leighton’s, statement right away, for the DA.”
“Today’s not a good day.” I wanted Peyton to have time to recover and not have to immediately relive yesterday or any of her past.
“Time is critical on this,” he insisted. “We got interrupted yesterday, obviously, and we need to finish and charge him.”
“Just a minute.” I angled toward Peyton. “The detective wants to finish taking your statement. You don’t have to today if you don’t want.”
With a sigh, she nodded. “It’s okay. I’d rather get it over with and move on.”
I understood the motivation. I wanted to turn the page as well. “Okay. This morning,” I told O’Connor.
“I’ll pick her up,” he said. “Where are you?”
“You can do it here,” I suggested. I didn’t relish having her out of my sight.
“Sorry, that won’t be good enough for my DA. I need to take her into LAPD and get it properly recorded and witnessed. My DA is coordinating with the lieutenant on scene yesterday.”
I hated his requirements, but gave in and dictated my address. I’d get a hold of Wellbourne later and see that he kept it short for Peyton.
Hanging up, I reached out for Peyton’s shoulder. “Lucas needs me in the office, but when you’re done, call me and I’ll pick you up for lunch.”
Her face dropped. “My phone is still at work.”
I’d forgotten that it had been left behind when she’d been taken yesterday. “The lieutenant will be there. Ask him to call me.”
Her face lit up with a smile a mile wide. “It’s a date.”
That was a reminder that although I was already all in on this woman, I hadn’t actually dated her properly yet—not even once. “No, lunch is just a meal. Tonight, I’ll take you on a proper date.” I figured a romantic dinner at Cardinelli’s would be a proper first date. “One where you can dress up.”
“Ooh,” she purred. “I’d like that.” She ran to her room and returned having traded her jeans for a skirt and her running shoes for heels.
“I said you could dress up tonight.”
“Trust me, this isn’t what I’m wearing tonight.”
I pointed at her feet. “I don’t get why you want to wear such useless shoes.”
“Because they look nice.”
“That they do.” I shouldn’t have complained. My heart thudded hard in my chest at the thought of those heels up over my shoulders.
She could have fun putting on something sexy, and I would later enjoy peeling it off her.
When O’Connor arrived, Peyton grabbed her leather jacket and gave me a kiss, a tiny taste of what was to come.
After seeing her to the car and sending her off with the detective, I returned to help Mom with the dishes.
When my phone rang with Lucas’s ring tone, Pete jumped up. “If he asks, I’m on my way.”
I answered the phone. “Yes?”
“Are you alone?”
“I can be,” I said as I went out the door to the backyard. “I am now.”
“Wellbourne called Boston to talk to O’Connor’s boss and negotiate who gets dibs on this Halligan guy in terms of arresting him—who gets to try him first, if he survives.”
“Uh-huh.”
“His boss didn’t authorize his trip out here. O’Connor said he was taking time off to go to his estate in Florida.”
“Estate?”
“That’s what he called it.”
What cop could afford an estate? “What do you make of that?”
Lucas sighed. “I don’t know for sure, but it’s clear he’s been lying to us. Add in the fact that he shot an unarmed man, and I don’t like it. He may have gone rogue.”
“Shit.” I felt like punching something. Why had I let her go with him? “He just picked up Peyton to take her to LAPD and record a statement.”
“I want to talk to this guy. Which station did they go to?” His tone said O’Connor wouldn’t enjoy the talk.
“I don’t know. He said his DA was coordinating with Wellbourne.”
“Marcus didn’t mention that. I’ll circle back with him.” The irritation in the boss’s voice was clear. “In the meantime, call Peyton and find out where they went.”
“I can’t. She doesn’t have her phone.” Guilt niggled at me. I should have given her mine.
“Then, I’ll find out from Wellbourne.”
Lucas called back less than two minutes later. “We have a problem.”
That was an ominous way to start. “Go ahead.”
“They thought he was going to make it, but Halligan coded this morning.”
“Oh, what a shame.” One less serial killer seemed like a good thing.