Chapter 3

ELIZABETH

I pull my SUV into my garage. It's a tight fit next to the shiny new John Gator Side-by-side. Dave's gift to me at last month's Christmas. "It'll make doing the chores easier," he'd said. "You can haul feed in the back or whatever you need to do."

I shake my head at the Gator. Our tiny farm is really Dave's baby. The three pigs in the barn and the six chickens were all surprises brought home from an animal swap meet last summer. "Home-grown bacon and farm-fresh eggs," Dave had said. I'd seen through the ploy for what it was, a reason to keep me home. Most nights, like tonight, he ends up doing the chores alone while I'm gone working on a case.

Sighing heavily, I push open my door. It's late, very late. Quietly, I enter the kitchen. Dave left a light on for me. It shines warmly on the wooden cabinets of the friendly space designed for family dinners. I turn off the light. I missed dinner again tonight and I don't want the reminder.

Oscar whines in his kennel, wanting my attention. I let him out, his thick white and gray fur glows in the moonlight as he dances around me, excited I'm home. I rough up his furry neck in greeting, then let him out the back door to his fenced-in area. "Don't take long," I tell him. "I'm going to bed in a bit. "Oscar sniffs the frozen grass and ignores me.

I toss my phone on the counter separating the kitchen from the living room and walk in the dark down the hall. I peak in on Nathan first. He's sound asleep, curled on his side. A book open on the bed and a flashlight glowing next to him, forgotten as he read himself to sleep. I close the book and sit it on his table, click off the flashlight. His dark bangs have fallen over his eyes, and I brush them away gently. I lean over and kiss his temple , breathing deeply of the little-boy smell in his hair. With a pang, I realize that smell has started to fade, to change as he grows older. He's only eight, but he'll beva young man soon enough.

"Love you, Mom," he murmurs in his sleep. He's used to my late-night kisses.

"Love you, Mom," he murmurs in his sleep. He's used to my late-night kisses.

"Love you, Nathan buddy," I whisper near his ear and breathe his scent again.

"Stop smelling me," he mutters and pulls the covers closer around him.

I smile at my son and leave him alone, closing the door with a gentle click.

No light shines under Julia's closed door. I want to open it, to go to her. At fifteen, she won't tolerate my intrusion the way Nathan does. Placing my hand flat on her closed door, I console myself with a quick,"Night ,love."

Flickering lights and low voices filter through the crack in the door to the master bedroom. I push it open and find Dave asleep on the bed, the TV on. I slip out of my suit jacket and toss it on the chair. I put my badge and gun in the side table drawer, the removal of their weight freeing me to just be. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I kick off my low-heeled boots.

Dave moans and reaches for me, his hand on my thigh.

"You're home," he mumbles.

I turn towards him and place my hand flat on the plane of his cheek. The beginning of stubble prickle my palm. "Don't wake up," I whisper. "It's late."

The TV flickers across his face as I drop a light kiss where my hand just was. He blinks rapidly , forcing himself awake. "How'd it go?"

"We had to release him." I stand and unbutton my shirt.

Dave wakes up fully, pushes himself onto his elbow. "Release him?" After what he did to all those womem?" His indignation matches my own.

"His alibi's check out." I fume. I don't want to talk about it. I've spent the last few days building a case against Kath Monroe. Eyewitness accounts linked him to sevey murders over the past year and a half. My partner, Detective Charles, and I thought we had enough to bring him in.

"I don't understand," Dave says.

"Me either." I pause in unbuttoning my shirt. "He sat across the table from Charles and me, calm and sure of himself. He had solid video alibis for each of the abductions. He couldn't have done it."

"I'm so sorry, Elizabeth. I know you were sure you had this monster."

I sit back on the bed, my shirt flapping open. "That's the thing. I'm still sure. Monroe did those awful things to those women, or is at least involved. " The rage I fought down before I even thought of coming home boils again. "Monroe looked me in the eye and said he didn't do it, but his eyes lied. He basically dared me to prove it. I can't explain it, but he knows that I know he's guilty."

Dave rolls out of bed, comes around to my side, then sits next to me, his body close. "Maybe you're just tired. You've been on this case non-stop for weeks." He's trying to help, but it rankles just the same.

"I am tired. But that doesn't change anything. He killed and marked all those women, and I will figure out a way to prove it."

Dave puts his arm around my shoulder, and I sink into the safety of his embrace. Staring into the face of a serial killer all night and then watching him walk away free had just about done me in.

"You must be hungry, " he says.

I nod against his shoulder and let him take care of me.

"You get a shower, I'll go make you a sandwich." He kisses the top of my head, squeezes me against his side. "Let this go for tonight. Things will look different in the morning."

I reveal in the morning, want him to hold me forever, to chase the darkness away. My stomach grumbles loudly, and we both laugh.

"I'll get you that sandwich." He leaves my side and walks towards the door.

"Thanks, love," I call after him. The door clicks behind him.

I take a moment to collect my tired thoughts. The TV murmurs and flickers. Russel Crowe battles other Gladiators in a late-night re-play of Dave's favorite movie. An especially violent and bloody part sends me scrambling for the remote. I've seen enough violence for today.

The shower pounds on the title and echoes through the spacious master bath. One entire wall is covered by a mirror stretching above the double vanity sinks. Using the left sinks as always, I brush my teeth and wash off the last remanants of my makeup. I pull a brush through my short blonde hair. I toss of my pants suit in the empty laundry hamper, giving silent thanks that Dave did the laundry today. Familiar guilt stabs me. He's been picking up a lot my slack lately, and I owe him better.

*****, I walk into the attached closet full of similar pants suits. I dig in a drawer and find a comfortable nightgown, one with a lower neckline, just a little too much skin showing. Dave's favorite. I vow to stay awake long enough to show him how much I appreciate all he's been doing for me.

I hang the nightgown on one of the hooks near the shower and climbs into the hot water. I lean my hands against the shower wall, holding myself up as water pours over my head and images pour through my mind.

Photos of the seven women I know Monroe killed and mutilated. Each throat cut, each chest carved with the Roman numeral two. Their faces flash through my mind like a horror movie. I push against the images, begging them to stop.

These girls need to bring them justice. The weight of that responsibility squeezes my chest, leaves me gasping.

My legs buckle under the weight. I slide to the floor of the shower and lean against the expensive tile. Water splashes and dribbles awkwardly down my face, mixing with the tears flowing freely. I cover my mouth with my hands, muffling the sounds. Cleansing sobs wrench my gut and tear my throat. The images of the women slow in my mind, then fade away.

Leaving darkness.

I welcome the emptiness, cling to it. The sobs taper off, leaving me spent and free. Probably, I replace the horrible images with wonderful ones of my family. Quick flashes of my husband and children give me the strength to stand. Nathan's precious smile and Julia's infectious laugh fill my mind as I wash my hair.

Memories of passionate nights with Dave warm my blood. I take the time to shave my legs, prepare for making another memory tonight.

When I'm finished, I stand under the water and let the steady stream wash away the last of my dark thoughts. I straighten my back, raise my chin, and physically reclaim myself.

"Come on, kid, " I say out loud. "Dave's waiting."

I suddenly realize he's been gone for a long time. I'd expected him to come into the bathroom, sit with me chatting as I showered, the way he'd done so many times before.

A frizzle of fear niggles my neck. I push the residual effect of my long night away and turn off the shower.

Oscar barks in the backyard, loud and insistent. I try to look out the window to see the dog, but steam and the glare from the overhead lights block my view.

My detective mind works overtime. Why's Oscar still out?

"Stop being paranoid, " I say to my stream- fuzzed reflection.

I towel off and slide the nightgown over my clean skin. It clings to my hips, dips low on my chest. The lace edge of the hem skims my toned legs. Now I just need Dave to see me in it.

I look into the bedroom, expecting to see him on the bed, back to watching Gladiator while he waits for me.

The weather channel I changed the TV to still plays in the empty room.

Oscar still barks out back. The tone of his bark doesn't sound right. Sometimes he just barks at the wind, but now he's barking at something. Maybe the coyotes have gotten close to the barn again. Oscar's protective of the pigs and chickens.

Dave must have gone out to check on them. I try to look out the bathroom window again, but still see nothing but darkness .

I pull on a thick pink robe over my skimpy nightgown and head into the hall.

Halfway down the hell, I freeze.

Nathan's door hangs open. I know I shut it earlier.

A few more steps and I see Julia's door hangs open too.

I should have listened to my instincts.

I should have gone back for my gun tucked safely in its drawer.

I should have run back to my room, called for help.

I should have done anything other than what I did.

I continue down the hall dressed only in the slinky nightgown and robe.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***