Authors: Michele Martinez
She pulled away. She was wearing a tailored wrap dress and high-heeled pumps. With the telephone receiver on his shoulder, Dan eased her back against the desk and carefully undid the cord that held her dress closed. She shrugged the dress from her shoulders and let it fall into a heap on the floor. His eyes glittered as they raked over her body. Melanie could hear Detective Hay’s voice squawking on the other end of the line.
“I didn’t catch that,” Dan said sideways into the telephone, his voice hoarse.
Melanie grasped Dan’s hands and drew him to his feet. He was tall and massive as a brick house. She reached for his belt buckle.
“You’re crazy,” he whispered, but he didn’t tell her to stop. Quite the contrary. He fumbled at his waistband for his gun, almost drop
ping it, catching it again, and setting it down on top of her desk with a thud. He helped her get his pants down, using his feet to get out of his shoes and yank the pants off, but keeping his Jockeys on. He was hard as a rock.
“I’m still here. Must be a bad connection,” Dan said into the phone.
He was getting impatient now. As he spoke he unhooked Melanie’s bra, yanked it from her shoulders, and tossed it aside. She leaned back against the desk, arched her back, and gave herself up to his hands, which were kneading her breasts and exploring her flesh all the way from her throat down to her underpants, which he was beginning to work off her hips. He bent forward and kissed her neck and started sucking her nipples, and she shuddered.
“Hang up,” she whispered, her legs so weak she could barely stand.
But he shook his head, and she could tell he was getting off on the situation, the idea that this was all happening in her office, in the middle of a phone call.
“You’re twisted, O’Reilly,” she whispered.
Dan leaned sideways, looking at her complicated telephone. “
Me?
Where’s the goddamn mute button?” he said under his breath.
She muted the telephone. Dan held the receiver in one hand, and he placed the other lightly over her mouth.
“People in the hall can still hear,” he warned.
“You gonna let that stop you?” She raked her teeth up and down his fingers, staring at him with challenge in her eyes.
“Agh, Jesus, what are you doing to me? I’m climbing the walls here.”
He slammed the phone down and spun her around, grasping the back of her neck and bending her over the desk, so her back was to him. He yanked her panties down to her ankles, pulled his own underwear off, and put his hot mouth against her ear.
“Is this what you want?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
“Tell me. I need to hear you say it.”
“C’mon, fuck me.”
He entered her from behind with one hard push, thrusting in and out until she was breathless and panting. She gripped the edge of the desk till her knuckles went white, squeezing her eyes shut, every nerve in her body alive and vibrating.
“Yes. Keep going,” she said, gasping.
She must’ve been too loud because he put his hand over her mouth again and shushed her tenderly. But she could tell Dan was having as much trouble as she was staying quiet. He had great stamina, almost too great. After a while, she started worrying that someone was sure to knock on the door, they’d been at it so long. Then, suddenly, he clutched her by the shoulders, bucking and twisting, gave a stifled gasp, and collapsed against her.
They stayed that way for a minute, not moving. Then Melanie’s phone rang. Dan laughed and pulled out of her, grabbing his underwear from the floor. She was naked except for her high heels when she picked up the phone.
“Melanie Vargas,” she said, and cleared her throat.
“Melanie, it’s Julian. Is Dan there? We got cut off.”
“Sure. Just a second.”
As Dan resumed his phone call, they both found their clothes and hurriedly got dressed. His hair was damp with sweat; he ran his fingers through it. Melanie took her handbag from the bottom drawer of her desk and fixed her makeup. She went to the ladies’ room, came back, and Dan was still on the phone. Finally, he hung up.
They looked at each other.
“What the hell was that?” he said. Melanie couldn’t tell whether he was amazed or upset, so she just shrugged.
“
That
was the best sex I ever had. In my life,” he said.
“I can’t believe we did it
here,
” she said.
Coming down from the high of the sex, Melanie was beginning to feel deflated and upset with herself. How could she have gone and instigated something so risky, so foolish, so plain unprofessional, and at a moment when the front office was mad at her, no less?
But Dan felt otherwise.
“Believe it, sweetheart,” he said, laughing joyously. “You’re incredible. No wonder I’m out of my mind over you.”
I
have some big news,” Dan said.
They had adjusted their clothing, opened Melanie’s office door, and sat down. They were sitting and talking as calmly as any prosecutor and agent discussing evidence in a case, as if the wild tumult of ten minutes earlier had never happened. Melanie felt relieved, like she’d stepped onto solid ground after being lost at sea.
“You found out who’s sending the e-mails?” she guessed.
“What e-mails?”
“Didn’t you get my message?”
Dan pulled out his phone and looked at it. “Oh. Sorry, I’ve been on the damn thing the whole time.”
“You’ve been hard to reach lately.”
Dan looked back at her without answering.
“Never mind,” she said. “Tell me your news first, then I’ll explain.”
“David Harris is free and clear. The DNA profile developed from the skin found under Suzanne’s fingernails doesn’t match the sample he gave. We already pulled the surveillance detail off him.”
“Quick turnaround time on the DNA test,” she commented.
“Yeah, even I can’t believe how fast they did it, and I was the one hounding ’em. We still don’t have the results back from the CODIS database comparison, and we sent that sample over almost a full day earlier.”
“When will we get that?”
“I was told by close of business today, but it hasn’t come through. I have no idea what’s taking so long. All’s they have to do is push a button on a computer.”
“Can you call them again?”
“I tried. Nobody picked up. I’m afraid we’re gonna have to wait till Monday morning now.”
“If Harris is innocent, that means the real Butcher is still out there, and we need to find him.
Fast,
” Melanie said.
“I know that. But it’s not like the results on Harris come as a surprise. You didn’t really think he did it, did you?”
“Not really.”
“To me, his story always had the ring of truth. I mean, what married guy is gonna put himself in the Ramble looking to blow another guy if it isn’t true? Even to beat a murder rap?”
“We should offer Harris protection,” Melanie said. “If he’s not the Butcher, then he’s my star witness.”
“You’re right.”
Her phone rang. “Hold on a second,” she said, picking it up.
Melanie listened to the sound coming over the wire. It took her a minute to figure out what she was hearing.
“What’s the matter? Something wrong?” Dan asked, seeing the look on her face.
“That’s so weird. It’s—it’s
me
.”
“What?”
She pressed the speakerphone button. The sound of Melanie’s own voice filled the room, answering a question at the news confer
ence she’d given in the early morning hours after Suzanne Shepard’s murder.
“What the hell is that?” Dan said.
“It’s me. At the news conference. Somebody must have recorded it off the TV.”
“Is anybody on the line?” Dan asked.
“Hello? Hello?” Melanie said into the speaker.
The only reply was audible breathing, followed by a moan.
“What the fuck!” Dan leaped to his feet and came charging around the desk. “Who’s there?” he yelled into the speaker.
The line abruptly went dead.
Melanie looked up at him with frightened eyes. “I wonder if that’s the same guy who’s e-mailing me.”
“Tell me about these e-mails right now,” Dan demanded.
She took a deep breath. “I’ve gotten two so far. Both moderately obscene in content. The first one was the morning after the murder. The guy said he’d seen me on TV, which is what makes me think this phone call might be from him. Janice and I decided he was just some creep, that it was nothing to worry about. But he sent another one earlier today, and he makes it sound like he’s following me. That one got me nervous.”
“Any reason to think this asshole is connected to the murder?”
“In the first e-mail, he called Suzanne Shepard a bitch and said the Butcher did the world a favor, but that wasn’t enough to raise a red flag for me. I figured the actual killer would have said something more specific about the crime.”
“Show me the e-mails, now.”
Dan was scowling. It occurred to Melanie that getting him involved might not have been the smartest move. Dan had a tendency to become overprotective and lose his cool when her safety was at stake. Too late now. Under his thunderous gaze, Melanie printed out the two e-mails and handed them to him.
“Why is it you invariably fail to tell me shit like this in a timely fashion?” he demanded when he’d finished reading.
“I left you a message that you didn’t bother to listen to, remember? Why is it you haven’t been answering your phone lately?”
“Don’t change the subject. You left that message an hour ago, but you got the first e-mail a day and a half ago.”
“We’re not talking about me, and I don’t want to fight. Just tell me what you think of the e-mails.”
Dan’s face flushed with fury. “What do I think? I think I’m gonna find this prick and pummel him to a bloody fucking pulp without due process of law.”
“Be serious.”
“I’m very serious. Break every bone in his goddamn body and leave him bleeding in the gutter.”
“But do you think he’s dangerous?”
“I think he’s a dead man.”
“Okay, I get the point.”
“Fucking psycho. The guy was jerking off on the phone just now, you know.”
She swallowed hard. “We can’t be sure of that.”
“Oh yeah? What do
you
think he was doing?”
Melanie didn’t answer.
“I’m gonna put him in the ground,” Dan said.
“You don’t mean that.”
But he stormed out of her office, slamming the door behind him.
“You wonder why I don’t tell you this stuff,” she muttered to the still-vibrating door.
I
t was seven o’clock on Friday night,
and Melanie was running late, although that wasn’t why she took a taxi instead of the subway to her favorite neighborhood pasta joint. With the memory of the strange phone call fresh in her mind, and a sense of unease left over from her encounter with the man in the hooded sweatshirt, Melanie felt more comfortable in the private cocoon of a cab. She didn’t want to overreact to a couple of crank e-mails and a heavy-breathing call, but neither could she disregard them.
Inside, the place was crowded, and deliciously redolent of garlic and tomato sauce. The harried hostess directed Melanie toward the back of the restaurant, where little Maya sat in a high chair chomping on a huge piece of Italian bread as Melanie’s good friend and former college roommate, Sophie Cho, cut up some ravioli for her.
Maya’s eyes lit up as Melanie approached. “Mama!” she cried, lifting her arms with delight.
“Hola, niña pequeña.
Mommy missed you all day.” Melanie leaned down and covered Maya’s face with little kisses that made her giggle.
“Careful, she’s quite sticky,” Sophie said.
“Did she eat the meatballs?” Melanie asked, slipping into an empty chair. She had to talk loudly to be heard over the din in the restaurant.
“They’re mostly on the floor, but she’s crazy about my spinach ravioli.”
“Maybe she’ll grow up to be a vegetarian like her aunt Sophie.”
“I’d like to think I’m having some influence. I ordered your food about fifteen minutes ago, so it should be here any minute.”
“Thank you, and thank you so much for picking Maya up from my apartment. Sandy hasn’t been feeling well enough to work past six these days.”
Sandy Robinson, who’d been babysitting for Maya for over a year and doing a splendid job of it, was seven months pregnant.
“What is she planning to do when her baby comes?” Sophie asked.
“She’s planning to
quit
. I have to start interviewing, I just haven’t been able to face it yet. The thought of learning to trust a new person with this little girl—ugh. Makes me wish I could afford to quit, too, and just stay home with her.” Melanie surprised herself by tearing up for a moment, her chin quivering. She took a deep breath and a sip of water.
“Don’t worry. You’ll find someone good,” Sophie said, and patted her hand.
“You’re so reassuring, Soph. I love that about you.”
“I’m just being realistic. You’ve always had good people, because you’re careful about who you hire. Sandy’s wonderful, and even that, what was her name, Eloise?”
“Elsie.”
“Elsie was good, too,” Sophie said.
“She was good with Maya. Me, she hated,” Melanie said. “But enough about my babysitter problems. You know what I want to hear. How was your date with Ray-Ray?”
Melanie had set Sophie up with a DEA agent named Raymond Wong, but she hadn’t had the chance yet to find out how it had gone. Ray-Ray was a deeply decent guy, but ex-military and tightly wound, which Melanie thought might suit him well to Sophie, who was high-strung, extremely bright, and obsessed with her flourishing career as an architect. Either they’d hit it off or they’d hate each other, but either way it was worth a shot. Like Ray-Ray, Sophie was so buried in work that she didn’t have time for a social life, yet she longed to be a mother, as shown by the hours she devoted to babysitting Maya. Melanie was convinced that Sophie had trouble meeting men only because she made no effort. She was reserved to the point of being cold. And while a pretty appearance might have made up for that, Sophie wasn’t beautiful in the conventional sense. She had lovely skin and eyes, but she was short and chubby, pulled her hair back any old way, and wore a hipster-architect uniform of black pants, black T-shirt, and black Nikes every single day. Melanie had decided to give fate a shove and help Sophie find a man who would appreciate her.