Page 47 of He Who Haunts Me

“You didn’t answer my call last night. After we got called to another crime scene, I started tracking you down.” He stopped and then added, “Is Jai with you?”

“He’s here,” I confirmed, looking up into his sleepy stare. I fingered the chains that were swinging from his sudden movement. “There’s been another murder?”

I sat up the best I could. Tears threatened to spill again.

“There were two girls this time.” Bishop’s words were like ice. Everything hot between Jai and me effectively chilled. “Get dressed, meet me downstairs.” There was a lighter tapping on the door, and the sound of footsteps trailed away.

Jai’s hand found the crown of my head, and he moved his fingers through my hair.

“Maybe next time, B,” he whispered. His gaze lingered on my lips, but he disentangled from our embrace and made his way across the room. He grabbed his pants and slid them on, leaving them loose and unbuttoned. “After this talk, I’ll take you home.” His voice was low and laced with disappointment as he grasped the doorknob and didn’t look back. He left no room for discussion as he ducked through the frame.

I would've given anything to have more time in his arms in that bed.

Jai

Detective Bishop was at the kitchen island when we walked in. He had a notebook opened and twisted a pen between his fingers. There was a closed brown folder off to his left. His suited appearance looked fitting for a richer space like this. I sat across from him dressed in the opposite of class. Bexley took the seat to my right. Her fists were tight, and her eyes were wide as she stared the detective down.

“Bexley.” His voice was low and concerned. “Is there anyone you can think of that would harm you?”

“No,” she responded with a hard shake. “I’m not friends with people who enjoy hurting others like that. That’s sick,” she explained, her voice quivering.

I reached over and covered her hands with mine. Tension left her fingers, and her shoulders loosened.

“Do you have any exes that have expressed they want to hurt you or others around you?”

“I haven’t dated much since high school, nothing leading to anything anyways.” She dropped her head and continued. “The only person who’s ever been in a position to hurt me was Malcolm. But he’s out of state, in Tennessee.”

Detective Bishop nodded and wrote more in the notebook. “Malcolm have a last name?”

“Jennings.”

“Jai, were you with her all night?” he inquired, and I appreciated his careful approach to that question.

“Yeah, I left the party to pick her up. Went to Cliff Falls and then I brought her home,” I intoned, nervous with the way this could end. “Well, here. I brought her home with me. We were together all night.”

“And are you two together?” he asked, moving his finger between the two of us. I looked at her slightly bruised lip, begging to taste her and mark her again.

“No, sir, just being an attentive and concerned friend,” I answered. I offered her a smirk. Notallof our secrets were aired yet.

“Okay, good to know.” He opened the file but didn’t show its contents. “So, the victims of last night are Kerry Murdoch and Jennifer Webbings. Know them?”

We shook our heads, and he continued on.

“I’m more curious about Kerry’s connection to you. There were several photos scattered over her body of you, Bexley.” His eyes shot to mine for a brief moment. “Someone else we couldn’t identify was also in a few. The images are dark and grainy, but it’s clear a few of these were taken during some intimate moments. They’re similar to those that showed up on my desk just hours prior.”

Bex’s hand flew to her mouth as she gagged, fighting vomiting on the granite.

“There’s more, and I’m not sure what it means for the case. This has evolved beyond my understanding, but I can’t get help at the moment. He left flowers on the body with your pictures. Does that sound like a familiar act or a git in your past?”

“No, sir,” she answered, her voice dry and strained.

“They’re white carnations. Do these have any significance to you?”They’re her mother’s favorite for starters.God, I’m no better than a stalker.

“My mother likes carnations. Lilies are significant to me, so I’m not sure what it means in relation.” Her brow was furrowed as she worked through possibilities. An unwanted recognition pushed its way into my thoughts.

“Actually,” I offered cautiously. “What if that’s not about what Bex likes?”

“I’m all ears,” Bishop said, leaning closer and readying his pen.