Chapter Two
Present Day – Boston
Beck
“So, what’ve we got?” I ask, flashing my badge as I walk towards the uniformed kid standing by the police barricade.
“It’s not good, Sir,” he says. “Homicide, suspected rape.”
“Fuck,” I murmur, just what I fucking need on Memorial Day weekend. “What’s the status on the investigation?”
The young kid looks at me and shrugs. “Don’t know, just got here, you’ll need to talk to that guy,” he says, pointing towards an older uniformed policeman standing with a blonde woman, who must be the M.E.
I nod and walk over, catching a glimpse of the bare feet of the body sticking out from behind the dumpster. Jesus christ, they look young, whoever it is.
“Detective O’Loughlin, homicide,” I say to the pair of them. “Can someone get me up to speed?”
The M.E. turns to me. I watch her brows lift, almost in surprise, before she smiles in a way that says she’d be willing to do more than just get me up to speed. I shoot her a quick smile in return before turning to the cop standing in front of the body.
“White female, possibly mid-twenties. Lacerations, defensive wounds, suspected strangulation and sexual assault. Found by this guy,” he says, gesturing to what looks like a homeless man. “When he was walking his dog,” he adds in a way that suggests he doesn’t believe a word of it.
“Walking his dog, huh?” I ask. “That sure sounds like a pile of shit.”
The cop laughs. “Yeah, my thoughts exactly.”
“Got an ID on the vic?” I ask, as I step around him to take a look at the body.
I don’t hear a word he says though, as all of the air suddenly rushes from my lungs.
“Fucking hell,” I say, my stomach threatening to empty all over the dead woman the second I get a look at her face.
God, fuck, please don’t let it be her. It can’t possibly be, not here in Boston.
“Detective, you okay?” the cop asks, taking a step towards me.
“Yeah, ah, yep,” I say, feeling anything but okay. These two sure as hell don’t need to know that the victim could be the love of my life. The one I let get away and the one woman I’ve still never managed to get over. “Have you, ahh… have you got an ID?” Fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s not her, surely.
“Yeah, we found a bag close by, wallet looks like it’s been emptied but there’s a BU staff ID. Photo matches, goes by the name of Jane Donovan. You know her or something, Detective?”
I exhale loudly as I run my hand through my hair. Thank fuck it’s not her.
“Sir?”
I turn to face the cop. “No, I don’t,” I say, crouching down by the body for a closer look now. “For a minute there, I thought I did.”
But as I look over the body up close, I can see now how wrong I was.
The victim doesn’t look anything like Kelsey.
Her hair is too light, nothing like the deep, rich brown hair that Kelsey has.
She’s shorter too, and the body is a little heavier.
It definitely isn’t the body I remember spending so much time getting to know when we were kids.
Not that I’d really know what Kelsey looks like anymore.
I haven’t seen her since I left Rockport, what, ten years ago?
Fuck, has it really been ten years since I last saw her?
She probably looks completely different to how I remember her now.
But as my eyes involuntarily close, I immediately conjure up a picture of her.
It’s one of my favorites; an image that I think about far too often.
In it she’s naked and lying in my bed, laughing as I kiss my way up her body.
Jesus christ, that girl, the things she did to me. The things I did to her.
I shake my head and force my eyes to open as I let the memory go. I can’t go back there. Kelsey and I are done. We wanted different things and despite being madly in love with her, I knew neither of us could compromise. She wouldn’t move to Boston and I couldn’t stay in Rockport.
I stand and turn to the M.E. who’s looking at me in a way that might involve concern. “You got everything you need?” I ask, ignoring her. The last thing I need is pity.
“Yeah, I’m good,” she says, relaxing a little when she sees me snap back into detective mode.
“Great,” I say, turning to the cop. “Let’s get this wrapped up then. Get your boys to canvas the area, look for any clues. In the meantime, I’ll take this clown,” I add, gesturing to the homeless guy, “into the station and see if he can’t come up with a different story. One that makes more sense.”
“Okay, thanks, Sir,” the cop says, immediately walking over to the rest of his crew to start directing the search.
“Detective?”
“Yeah?” I say, turning back to the M.E.
“You, maybe wanna get a drink after work?” she asks, lowering her clipboard and sticking her tits out as she tries on a flirty smile now that we’re alone. Fuck me; she’s got balls asking for a date in the middle of crime scene.
“Ah, I don’t normally date colleagues,” I say, running a hand through my hair as I still let myself give her a quick once over.
She smiles at me, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she says, “Well, we’re hardly colleagues, are we? I mean technically, I don’t work at the station or for you.”
I take a deep breath, memories of Kelsey once more flashing through my brain.
She and I had met when I was sixteen and taken on a job with her family at the inn.
Mostly random maintenance shit on account of the fact that I was too young to tend bar in my granddad’s pub.
She’d had balls too, but in a different way, flirting with me like a pro even though I was a year older than her.
I’d admired her guts, along with her ass, and of course I’d eventually caved and asked her out on a date.
I already knew who she was, I’d known before I’d even taken the job.
But that’s what you get in small towns. Everyone knows fucking everyone.
I shake my head, wondering if maybe a drink with this woman might be a good idea after all. God knows the last thing I need is to start reliving old times with Kelsey, again. Those days are over.
“Yeah?” she says and I swear she knows she’s got me.
“Fuck it, okay,” I say, pulling out a card and handing it to her. “Call me later when you know when you’ll be done.”
“Sounds good,” she purrs before she turns and walks away, her ass swinging because she knows I’m watching her.
As I do though, I can’t help but think she is nothing like Kelsey. There is absolutely nothing similar about them and maybe, that’s exactly what I need if I ever think I’m going to be able to let her go.
By five o’clock, I’m ready to head home. I haven’t heard from the M.E. and we’ve gotten no further in the case. The homeless guy turned out to be legit, the dog he was supposedly walking just a figment of his under-medicated imagination.
I walk out of the station and am about to turn towards the parking lot when a voice calls out. “Detective!”
Turning, I see her smiling face, her huge tits and her swinging hips as they walk towards me. I can’t help but be impressed, my dick even managing a slight twitch at the sight of her. Yeah, this is exactly what I fucking need.
“I thought you were calling me?” I say, a half smile on my face as she stops in front of me. She’s undone an extra button on her shirt since this morning, her cleavage on full display now. I don’t bother to hide my obviousness as I check her out.
“I know,” she says. “But I thought I’d drop by and surprise you.”
“Consider me surprised,” I respond, as I gesture to the Irish pub across the street.
We head over and as we walk inside, I do a quick look around to see if any of the boys from the station are here.
This is our local and it’s probably a dumb fucking idea bringing the M.E.
in here, but at the moment, I don’t really care.
I’m not looking for any kind of long-term relationship with her.
In fact I’d be happy with a quick fuck and a see you later, type thing.
So I really don’t give a shit if half the station knows I’m planning to screw her.
But there’s no one here, the weekend team light, on account of Memorial Day weekend.
Only those of us without family were lucky enough to be scheduled on today.
I sure as shit don’t have any; I’ve barely spoken to mine since I left them ten years ago.
Like Kelsey, they were just as pissed that I walked out, turned my back on the family tradition, and opted for the ‘big lights’ of the city.
None of them knew what my real reasons for leaving were and as none of them had bothered to come and visit me, I hadn’t felt the need to go back and visit them either.
“Detective?” the M.E. asks, and I get the feeling I’ve missed something I was supposed to have been listening to.
“It’s Beck,” I say, smiling as I push the memories of this very day ten years ago to the back of my mind. “Call me Beck.”
She smiles at me. “I’m Miranda,” she says, reaching out her hand.
I take it in mine and my smile widens as we shake hands, Miranda’s finger lightly stroking the inside of my wrist. In that instant, I know I’m getting laid tonight.
Three hours and five pints of Guinness later, I’m feeling very relaxed and wondering what I can do to get this woman naked soon. Miranda is on her third glass of white wine and looks as though she’s drunk enough to be up for it right here in the bar.
“Did you always want to be a detective when you were growing up?” she asks, her tongue doing another once over of her full lips.
Her question threatens to reignite memories I don’t want to be thinking about. Right now, with the sounds of distant fireworks already ringing out, I need something that’s as far away from Memorial Day and Rockport and Kelsey as I can get.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” I say, smiling as I stand and reach out a hand to Miranda.
She takes it and I roughly pull her up, my other hand going to her hip as she stumbles slightly. “Oh,” she says, smiling when I don’t let go. “What do you want to talk about then?”
I take a step closer, grateful there’s no one I know in here tonight. “How about we don’t do any talking at all?”
Miranda smiles as her free hand goes to my chest, her nails digging in as she takes a step towards me so her tits are now pressing against me. “That sounds like a good idea, Detective.”
Thirty minutes later and we’re pulling into the shitty apartment I live in just outside of Dorchester.
This couldn’t be a worse neighborhood to live in and I’m probably going to wind up with Miranda spending the night because it’s safer than trying to get her home in a cab.
Maybe it will get me a morning after fuck too.
We walk silently up the stairs to my one bedroom apartment.
As I close the door behind me and throw my keys into the bowl on the counter, Miranda pounces on me, not bothering with small talk anymore.
I find my back pressed against the front door and her tits against my chest and before I can say a word, her lips are on mine and her tongue is forcing its way into my mouth.
She tastes like wine and I realize that neither of us have had dinner and that’s probably why she’s as drunk as she is. I’m not really concerned with eating right now, at least not the food variety.
I put my hands on her hips and push off the door, walking her backwards in the direction of my bedroom.
“Detective,” she murmurs, her lips briefly leaving mine. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I think we’re way past that point.”
“Mmmm,” she whispers, her fingers sliding off my suit jacket before moving to the buttons on my shirt.
I’m less considerate of hers; grabbing the front and ripping it open in one quick move.
I hear buttons fly across the room, but I’m too distracted by her huge tits spilling out from a black lace bra to even care.
I slide my hands around her back and unclasp it, my mouth immediately sucking on one of her nipples the instant it’s free.
Miranda’s head falls back with a groan and I palm her other tit with my hand, my fingers twisting and squeezing the nipple.
“Undo my pants,” I mumble, needing to get this show on the road.
Miranda fumbles with the belt and zipper and it occurs to me that she may be drunk enough that she’s not entirely in control here.
But when she finally gets them down my hips and her hand goes immediately for my dick, I stop caring.
I make quick work of her skirt and panties before I push her backwards onto the bed, enjoying the bounce of her tits as she lands.
“You like it rough, Detective?” she purrs as she lays back and opens her legs invitingly.
“I like it hard,” I tell her, reaching for a condom in the side drawer. “Hard and fast.”
Because this, with her, can be nothing like it was with Kelsey.
Even though at times, it was rough and sometimes even fast, especially when we needed to sneak in a quickie in one of the empty rooms at the inn, it was nothing like the meaningless sex this is about to be.
Tonight is nothing more than rough, hard and fast sex that temporarily satisfies.
The kind that gives you a release and leaves you sated for the night, but which deep down, barely scratches the surface of what you really need.
“Well, hurry up and give it to me then,” Miranda says, bending her right leg at the knee and exposing her already glistening pussy to me.
“How about we go back to the no more talking thing,” I say, as I bend down and bury my face in her pussy and stop thinking about it all together.
An hour and two fucks later, Miranda is fast asleep.
Curled around me as though we are long-term lovers who’ve done this a thousands times before.
It feels wrong and awkward and I know I’m going to struggle to sleep with her beside me like this.
I’m too exhausted for another round of fucking and in any case, I’m not sure I could possibly bring myself to do it.
Ever since I started this whole shitfight, I’ve had a near constant barrage of images both of the victim and of Kelsey’s naked body assault me.
Giving up on sleep entirely, I drag myself out of bed, pull on some sweats and walk into the living room, pouring myself a large scotch before collapsing on the couch.
Reluctantly, I pull out a photo album, hidden beneath the couch, and open it on my lap.
It’s filled with photos of Kelsey and me, and even though I’ve spent the last ten years telling myself to let her go, deep down I know that I never quite do.
That I probably never will.