Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
If Seth’s tension headache had been bad earlier, it was ten times worse now; his skull felt like it was being compressed by a giant elastic.
He pinched the bridge of his nose to help alleviate the pain as he leaned his elbows over the railing on the second floor of the motel, looking over the empty parking lot, topped by the murky night sky.
“So there’s nothing I can do,” he spoke into his phone.
“It’s not up to me,” Lieutenant Delaney said. “This is Roslyn’s jurisdiction. Your part of this job is finished, Winslow. You can wrap things up tomorrow and be back in Kansas City by night. We could use you back in the office.”
“I don’t want to leave until Sloane’s autopsy comes back. It could’ve been a homicide.”
“If that happens, we can offer you to help again, but the autopsy could take a few days—it’s a low priority for the morgue at the moment. In the meantime, there’s no reason for you to be hunkering down at a motel there. Come home.”
“But this is still my case, Lieutenant.”
“Your job was to stop the man who killed Eliza Johnson, Kelsey Campbell, and Melissa Starr. You identified him in time to prevent there from being a fourth victim. Not to mention the evidence you uncovered against that serial rapist for the damn feds. You’ve given more than enough of yourself to Fairview. ”
Seth was quiet. She was right—he had won. So why didn’t it feel that way? None of his previous cases had left him so hollow.
“This can be a hard lesson to learn, Winslow,” Delaney continued, her voice sympathetic. “Working in a small community like that, it’s easy to get… involved. But you have to accept when your part is over.”
Over. None of this felt over.
There were still too many questions. He wasn’t ready to walk away.
“The best you can do is leave all the information with Roslyn and let her take the reins. If it turns out Trevor Sloane’s death was a homicide, I’ll see if she wants you back on board.”
If. “Chief Wells is planning to retire soon.”
“I know, but she won’t until this is dealt with.
She shared some of your theories with me about the possible corruption within her force.
She’s launching an internal investigation.
The officer who abandoned his post will be questioned and dealt with.
It’s a start, but these things take time. You know that.”
He did know that. It just wasn’t what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t what he wanted to tell Claire.
Trevor Sloane’s tremoring voice slinked into his mind.
“He’ll get away with it. He gets away with everything.”
“Get some rest, Winslow. And good work.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant,” he murmured, and the call ended.
Seth tucked his phone into the pocket of his pants and traded it for a pack of smokes. He stared at the box and flipped it over in his hands. He’d already had one half an hour ago, assuming it’d help his headache, but it didn’t. He should really quit, but after the day he’d had—
A ticking sound stopped him before he could take a cigarette out. In the parking lot below, Claire approached the motel on her bike, her hair flowing past her. He put the cigarettes away. When she spotted him, he waved and forced a smile. She forced one back and hopped off her bike.
Nerves pinched inside him as she trotted up the staircase until they were face-to-face, alone outside his motel room.
She’d gone home and showered since the hospital; her face was bare and shiny, and the smell of her sugary shampoo carried on the wind.
She’d changed into a new pair of ripped denim shorts and a navy camisole, tight against her slim figure.
As always, beautiful enough to make his chest ache.
“Hi,” she said, stepping toward him.
“Hey.” He leaned against the railing. She joined him, and the smell of her body lotion, like cucumber or whatever it was, made him want to breathe her in. “I wasn’t expecting you,” he said.
She rested her hands on the railing and gazed at the parking lot. “Clementine woke up for a bit, but she’s sleeping again now. I got away to shower and throw my clothes out. I never wanna see that outfit again.”
“I don’t blame you.” He paused. He dreaded this conversation, but it had to happen. “I had a chance to talk to your father at the station earlier.”
“So I’m told. He came by the hospital after and filled us all in.
” She laughed sarcastically, but the pain on her face told another story.
“He was suddenly real chatty about this necklace he had on him. Apparently, my mom never left the house with it the day she went missing, and my dad’s actually been carrying it around this whole time.
Ain’t that convenient timing to bring something like that up. ”
Remembering Ron’s bullshit pissed Seth off all over again. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
She laughed again, but tears blurred her eyes. She held them in. “No. I think at some point, Clementine told him I saw the necklace, so he came prepared. He’s covering his tracks, like he always does.”
“How can you expose him for the necklace if he’s already come forward with it himself, right?”
She nodded. Silence fell over them. He leaned forward on the railing, crossing his hands over the other side, breathing in the air as another strong gust of July wind blew in.
“I keep thinking about what Trevor said,” he mused. “About how your dad gets away with everything.”
“Well, I hate to agree with a killer,” Claire said glibly.
He wanted to touch her hand, to comfort her, but he held back. “It’s not over yet. If Trevor’s death was a homicide, I can get the warrants I need to dig deeper. Cell phone records, GPS data, ballistics, things like that. I already have a strong case as to why your dad could be a suspect.”
Something felt different. There was an air of defeat around her, like she’d lost all hope, and he hated that.
“You won’t link it to him. If he did have Trevor killed, he probably got someone else to do the dirty work for him.
If he’s dealing drugs, he would’ve trashed all the evidence by now.
There won’t be anything to arrest him for. ”
“Hey.” This time, he did touch her. She sucked in a breath when he rested his hand over hers on the railing. He looked into her eyes so she’d know he was serious. “I’ve had to build cases against guys who think they’re untouchable before. They always make a mistake.”
“Trevor was his mistake,” she whispered.
He gripped her hand tighter. “Then I’ll find another.”
Tears dripped down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with her free hand. “But you’re leaving.”
Her words slapped him with reality.
You’re too close to this.
Way too close.
Because he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to do more than that.
He wasn’t sure when she’d gone from just a pretty girl to the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. He had to turn away.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s all right.” She slipped her hand away, and he immediately missed her skin beneath his palm. She turned back to the staircase. “You’ve got a life to get back to. I do too. I should head out.”
Choked up, he said nothing as she trotted away from him, but when she was halfway down the stairs, he snapped out of it. He didn’t want her to leave. He ran to the stairway and called down, “Claire.”
She barely looked at him, trying to hide her tears. He hated seeing her in pain; all he wanted was to make it better.
“Don’t go,” he said.
“I have to.”
Before he could object, she was gone. She got on her bike and sped out of the parking lot, into the night.
Back inside the motel room, Seth crumpled on the edge of the bed. He was so heavy. Like a lead vest had been strapped to his chest. His body was exhausted, but his mind was on high-alert, replaying the images of Claire’s sad, beautiful face.
It felt so lonely in here, but it’d be lonelier in his one-bedroom apartment back in Kansas City. He lifted his gaze to the nightstand, where he’d placed the strawberry candle he bought at the fair. The one Claire made.
That painful feeling cleaved open his chest again.
He liked her so much, so suddenly, it scared him.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he were leaving her in a place where she was safe and happy, but she clearly hated the way things were here.
Too close or not, Seth wasn’t about to give up; eventually, Ron would get comfortable again, and maybe then he’d slip up. But that could take time.
A knock at the door jarred the silence. Assuming it was Gary from the motel’s front desk, he got up and opened the door.
Claire stood on the other side, breathless, stretching out her arms like she was trying to calm herself. “Hi. Um, sorry. I came back…”
“You came back,” he echoed in shock. They stared at each other for a moment before he held the door open. “Oh, come in. Please.”
She slipped under his arm, and he gently clicked the lock behind her. His palms grew sweaty the moment they were alone together. He hadn’t expected this, and now a swarm of nerves tackled the inside of his chest. She opened her mouth like she was about to speak, but came up with nothing.
Then, before he could process it, she jumped at him.
Her arms looped around his neck, like they had in the hospital—only this time, her lips went straight for his, and then he was kissing her.
Her lips were soft and pillowy beneath his, and it was a shock to his system, alighting every nerve.
She tasted sweet and like everything he never knew he needed.
Fuck. This was happening.
He lowered her until her feet steadied on the floor as he fought for control of their kiss.
He gripped the back of her head, burying his fingers in her soft hair as her fingers raked over his neck and pulled him closer.
A quavering breath escaped her lips as he deepened their kiss, gliding his tongue across hers, desperate to taste every part of her, and she returned it with as much fervor.
He backed her against the door and gently wedged his knee between her legs, asking for permission to part them. She gave it to him.
Which meant she didn’t want him to stop—not yet.
The thought unlocked something almost feral inside him; his body needed it, he needed it, more than she knew. All his blood rushed to one, concentrated point. Every second he was trapped inside his pants, not inside her, was torture.
But he was getting ahead of himself.
When he broke their kiss, he craved the warmth of her mouth on his again, but he had to read her face, to be sure she wanted what he wanted.
She looked up at him like she needed it just as bad.
He gripped her hips in both his hands; she felt like she was made for him.
He held her gaze, spun her toward the bed, and slowly backed her into it.
She went with him willingly, desire pooling into her green eyes, turning them liquid.
He was desperate for more of her, so he tucked his fingertips beneath the bottom of her shirt.
His silent request was answered when she pulled off her camisole and tossed it aside, revealing her smooth, creamy skin.
Tan lines over her chest and shoulders. He drank her in, slipping his hand up her spine, across her ribs, until his palm cupped her breast and God, she was gorgeous.
She hit the bed and sat back on it, parting her legs for him. He still needed more.
“Let me see you,” he breathed out.
He tugged at the hem of her shorts. She undid the button so he could easily slide them off, taking her underwear with them, until she was raw and bare beneath him.
He’d known every part of her would be perfect, but no mental image had prepared him for the real thing. She stared down at him, eyes half-lidded and intense, hair spilling over her breasts, cheeks red and almost shy.
“You’re perfect,” he rasped. And that made her smile in such a sexy way, it turned his brain to molten lava.
This was going to be… difficult. It’d been a while for him in general, something his body was quickly reminding him of as his pants grew unbearably tight. To last any amount of time with her would be a challenge.
He got down on his knees in front of the bed, tucked his hands over her hips, and pulled her toward his face. She whimpered in the prettiest way he’d ever heard. He needed to taste her, so he did, slow at first, then worked his way up. She winced like she’d been electrocuted.
“You okay?” he asked, worried she was having second thoughts.
She bit her index finger. “Sorry, it’s been a while…”
He grinned and relaxed. “For me too. Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”
Claire nodded, giving him permission to delicately kiss her, until he found a rhythm that had her digging her hands into his hair and pulling him closer.
Every breathy sound from her lips killed him, until holding back felt more like a test in pain tolerance.
He slipped two fingers into her, testing her arousal.
She clamped down on him. His entire body tensed.
If she felt like this on his fingers—he wasn’t ready for how she’d feel on something much bigger.
When she tugged at the neck of his shirt, he pulled away. She peered down at him, asking a silent question. He hoped he read it right, because he couldn’t wait anymore. He stood and began unbuckling his belt, asking, “Is this okay?” as he did.
Claire lifted up and tugged at the buttons of his shirt, helping him peel it off as he undid his pants. “Please, I need it,” was all she said, her voice desperate and soft, her hands roaming the exposed muscles of his abdomen, trailing toward the V of his hips.
“I need it too,” he managed. But as he unzipped, his last functioning brain cell came back to life, just enough to slap him with a dose of reality. “Wait. I don’t have any protection.”
She nudged his chest with her toes. “Well, I am on the pill… it’s okay with me if it’s okay with you…”
He grinned in relief. “Fine by me.” And then his pants—his boxers—were not a problem anymore. She lay back for him, opened herself to him, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The bed happened to be the perfect height. And her ankles belonged over his shoulders.
He’d be a fool not to give her exactly what she wanted.