Killer Scents (15 page)

“I’ve never met anyone quite like you. One minute I want to strangle you, and the next, I want to take you in my arms and never let you go.”

Shit, I never saw this coming.

She felt
like a caged animal
with no means of escape
. Both of them stood at the same time.

“Don’t.” Her hand shot up between them to halt his advances. “I can’t do this right now. I need to find
Susan
’s killer. I can’t...
.
N
o, I
won’t
be distracted b
y
you and
y
our
childish
mind games.
One minute you’re seducing me, and the next you won’t
even glance my way. ” Becca looked into his big brown eyes. “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

Randy pulled her into his arms, backing her up and wedging her in the corner of the cupboards
with no
way out
.

“Let me go
—
”

His
mouth captured hers in a long
,
drugging kiss. After a couple lame attempts to get away, she relaxed in his arms,
and gave in to the whirlwind of emotions she tried so hard to contain.

Suddenly he scooped her up and cradled her in his arms. The intensity in his eyes robbed her of breath
. She
kn
ew
full well the direction they were headed.

“I can’t make any promises.” Her words came out nothing more than a whisper.

“I’m not asking for any
, Red
.” He carried her through the kitchen toward the bedroom. His lips claimed hers once again, but this time she offered no resistance.

Click
. C
lick
. C
lick
.
His boots snapped against the cement as he paced the room. Thoroughly pissed off
at himself
for tainting the thrill of being at
his
crime scene.

“Idiot! Why did you have to leave the box behind? How could
you
be so stupid?”

The skin on his neck pulled taut. He yanked open the cooler and grabbed a fistful of asters, pulling the heads off and scattering the pale purple petals into the air. He twisted the stems, over and over until they pulled apart and threw them on the ground
.
T
he cement turned green
under his boot grinding them into the floor
.

Calm yourself.

Two words whispered in his ear ended his tirade and drew him to the counter where he picked up the silver frame and smiled down at her.

“I’m sorry,
d
ear heart. I know you don’t like it when I lose my temper. I wanted
everything
to be perfect
for you
,
and it almost was
.
”

His heavy sigh steamed the glass as he pressed his lips to the smiling woman’s forehead. Reverently, he set it back, face down.

A hiss of air escaped the barstool he sat
on.
He
wip
ed
his sweaty
face
on his shirtsleeve. “Look at this mess.”

Dark purple roses caught his attention.
He wrinkl
ed
h
is brow. “Of course, it’s her fault distracting me like that. She’s been nothing but a pain in my ass since she came back to work.”

Before then he wasn’t the least bit worried they’d solve the mystery of The
F
lorist. Now that they put the dynamic duo together
h
e had to admit he thoroughly enjoyed baffling Ms
.
Hoity Toity.

The scent of lemons wafted up from the wash basin
he
filled. Some of his best thinking happened when cleaning.
Now, what is my next move?
He’d completed what he
’d
set out to do. All seven of his victims were carefully picked, each encounter meticulously planned down to the minutest detail over the past year. To pick another virtual stranger from the journal meant taking a huge risk he’d overlook something or slip up somehow.

He sat back on his heels and dropped the scrub brush in the water.

It really is a shame to stop just when I’m getting so good at it.

He snapped h
is head up and rubbed his damp hands on his jeans. A smile twisted his lips.

“Unless...”

Randy settled in his seat and stretched his legs
out
, resting his boot on his highway pegs
. The
crisp morning breeze off the water
, coupled with a
flashback
of Becca in bed, her long red hair fanned out across the pillow, brought a smile to his face.

They gave themselves to each other in unabashed abandon, blocking all the ugliness and heartache The
F
lorist brought to their lives. Never in his life
had
he
felt
so connected to a woman
.
T
hey shared an unspoken language only their bodies could decipher.

Any attempt to sleep once he got back to his place proved futile, so he showered and climbed on his bike. The wind had a way of soothing his soul like nothing else could, and as much as he wished to keep going, they had a killer to catch.
H
e turned from the country road toward the precinct.

Less than twenty minutes
later he flicked on the light, illuminating the morbid smiles of The Florist’s victims on the seven boards at the front of the meeting room. He set his files on the table and hurried to put some coffee on.

Chief Thomson stepped through the doorway, coffee in hand. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Chief.” Randy propped himself on the edge of a table. “
Are
results in from last night?”

“The
others
should be here
any
time now. Let’s wait until the
y
arrive so I’m not repeating myself.” He sat at a table nearest the boards and opened a file. “Here, put these up on the empty board at the end.”

Randy took several photographs from
him
. Like all of the others, there was a picture of Kevin Baird pre-murder, and half a dozen taken at the crime scene.

Her voice carried in the room before he saw her, setting his
pulse
racing. Randy braced himself and turned, almost knocking her over. “Well, hello.”

Becca stood less than a foot away with her hand out. She stared intently into his eyes. “Work first?”

H
e
narrowed his gaze on her,
tr
ying
to
figure out
her intentions. He gave her a nod. “Okay
. P
lay later?”

She smiled. “Let’s find this guy.”

“That sounds like a plan to me.”

Chief took his glasses off to rub his eyes. Once everyone was seated he raised his hand to silence
everyone
.

“I’m sure you
’
re all tired and frustrated. This guy has taken down seven people, and we
’
re no closer to finding him than we were on day one.”
H
e walked down the row of boards, hit
ting
each one. “Sandra Bedows, Derek Masters, Carol Tate, Lori Davis, Susan
White
, Jeffery Dunn
,
and last night, Kevin Baird.

He sighed wearily
. “Randy, what do we know about these people.”

Randy pushed back from the table and walked to the first board, his notebook open. “Sandra Bedows, twenty-six
years old,
single.
She lived on a disability pension
due to being morbidly obese.
”

Randy
turned a page.

“Derek Masters, thirty-two years old,
also single. He was
an orderly until five years ago when
he was let go for being a Peeping Tom.”

“Carol Tate, forty-seven
years old,
never married.
At twenty-six years of age she murdered her plastic surgeon for ruining her face. She served ten years of a fifteen
-
year sentence.
”

Randy stopped at Susan’s board and looked directly at Becca, who nod
ded
her consent
for him
to continue.

“Susan
White
,
sixt
y years old,
single. She was
a
retired
nurse’s aide
.
”

He turned his back to the boards before continuing. “Lori Davies, lawyer. Jeffery Dunn, computer tech, and Kevin Baird, a bouncer and ex-con.”

Randy snapped his notebook closed. “We know all seven victims came from very different walks of life. In fact, the only commonality is, they were all single. Hardly a reason for The Florist to kill them the way he did.” He returned to his seat.

Chief Thomson returned to the front of the room. “It’s obvious The Florist did his homework on all of his victims. He most probably watched them for quite some time before making a move. Given how quickly he’s carried off these murders, he had a pretty precise plan of action.

“It wasn’t like he typed in ‘potential victims who are single’ in the search bar and a magic list of only seven single people popped up. No, we’re missing a piece of the puzzle. There has to be a connection.”

He slapped the file down on the table. “I want all of you on this. I can’t stress enough how time is of the essence. I want this bastard found before he strikes again.”

Chapter Seventeen

A pile of wadded
-
up pages lay on the floor beside him, his head rest
ing
on his hand
while
he
stared off into space. All through the night he’d wrestled with who his next
victim
would be
. Now that I know, why is this still so hard?

Using the drug on
Kevin Baird
added a new element of satisfaction, but he only purchased enough for the one time, and the dealer had come to him.
I need to get my hands on another dose
,
but how?
He
made
the drug deal a year ahead of his killing spree.
Am I setting myself up to get caught if I venture into that part of town?
He didn’t exactly blend in with the street people. In fact, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

I can wear a disguise.
His excitement mounted at the prospect. 
How am I going to pull this off without looking like an amateur? It’s not like wearing a Halloween costume where everybody knows you’re wearing one. If any of those guys suspect I’m not the real deal...
He needed it done by a professional, one of those fancy make-up artists used on television.

Where the hell am I going to find one of those?
He shrugged.
Maybe...
From the drawer he pulled out the thick
Y
ellow
P
ages and flipped through the
m
.
It’s a long shot.

Costumes...nothing but retail outlets
.

Make up...a kazillion listings for women’s makeup.

Frustrated, he shoved the book back in the drawer and shut it with a bang.