Deadly Obsession Part 11

"No comment."

"Cause of death?"

"Not until the autopsy is done."

"In your opinion, did these women die in the same manner?" "No comment."

"Come on, Cole. You know whether or not these women died in the same ma nner or not."

He leveled his gaze on her and repeated, "No comment," giving her no room to argue.

Undaunted, she continued, "Do you have any suspects at this time?"

"Not at this time, but we are working on it. If this perpetrator is still in the area, we'll catch him."

"So you are saying this same man murdered all three women?"

"That is your own conclusion, Laurie, not mine."

"Lieutenant, if we have a serial killer running around, the public has a right to know."

"Again, that is your own conclusion." John had warned him earlier about allo wing the press to nail the murders as the work of a serial killer. Cole's jo b was to sway public opinion. After all, with what little clues they had, he had yet to draw that conclusion himself-completely. "Miss Michaels, what we have this morning is a murder. I have not stated that it is in any way conn ected to the bodies found in Bain Park. To print anything else is libel. Dra w whatever conclusions you want from the information I've given you, but kee p speculation out of your story. I don't care what you saw or heard back at the motel. I don't want to read about it in the paper. Unless I have given i t to you, it's privileged and off the record."

Laurie sat back and looked at him, placing the pen against her lower lip. Hi s gaze drifted to the pen. Her expression was hard to read as she narrowed h er liquid brown eyes at him. He had no idea the thoughts running through her stubborn little mind.

"Agreed," she finally said, then asked, "Were there any witnesses?"

"None that we know of."

"Who called in about the dead body?"

"No comment. Laurie, you know that is privileged information, so why ask?

She chuckled, the sound soft and pleasing to his ears. The corners of her e yes turned up in merriment. "You never know when something might slip and I find a real story to write."

"When this is all over with-I promise, you'll get the exclusive."

"And what about you? Will I get to know the real Cole Kincaid when this is all over?"

Cole sighed, feeling the tautness of every muscle. These murders would take a toll on him before they were all said and done, not to mention his own pas t being brought back to life by this little slip of a woman. h.e.l.l, he had a murderer to catch and fast. He could not afford to get sidetracked. But some thing about this woman made him want to give in, let her close enough to know him, inside and out. A part of him wanted to get to know her, and not just intimately. He liked the way she smiled, the innocence her eyes bore, the p roud set of her shoulders. The only thing he didn't like was her curious nat ure, which would only get her in more trouble.

A smile rose on his lips. "You have to get to know me," one brow rose in cha llenge, "to know the real Cole Kincaid. But for now, I have a case to solve.

If you'll excuse me..."

Laurie stood, thanked him, and headed for the door, where she turned and held his gaze. "I'd like to get to know you, Cole," she said, smiled, then left t he room.

He returned his attention to his papers. Maybe after this was all over-he migh t even think to ask her out.

Hours later , haven taken a cab to retrieve her car, Laurie sat behind her de sk, tapping out the day's story on her keyboard. Of course, she had little to go on again. Cole was a master at keeping all details from the press, even t hough at the time of the interview, he had made it sound as though she had go tten some sort of exclusive.

Looking up from her work, she saw George Haskins approaching. The senior edi tor would be no happier with her this time than he had been over her piece o n the first victim she wrote two weeks prior. The only difference, this time she had an eyewitness report of the crime scene, what little she could prin t. Finished, she pointed the mouse on print and clicked it. Before George ev en reached the desk, the laser printer had spit out her article.

"What do you have?" he asked, picking the paper off the tray, scanning the words. "Not much here, Laurie. We'll print this, but I want more. Find some thing to connect these cases together and we'll have a real story."

"Yes, sir."

Laurie glanced at the clock. Twelve-fifteen. Not waiting for another comme nt from George, she grasped her purse, muttered, "I'm going to lunch," and headed for the door.

"Wait," a pet.i.te woman called out from behind her, stopping her at the entra nce. "I'll go with you."

Cindy VanWarren, long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, had a figure that dr ove men nuts. She was George Haskins' personal secretary, and one of Laur ie's best friends. The two had a lot in common and shared most of their l unches. Both had been dumped by their boyfriends and both enjoyed shoppin g tremendously, giving them something to do with their solitary weekends.

"Where do you want to go for lunch?" Cindy asked as she caught up with La urie.

"Your call, but somewhere a little out of the way. I'm not in the mood for the lunch crowd right now." The two left the building and headed for Laurie's Acura.

Moments later, they sat across from each other at Pugz and Bailey's Tavern . Stained gla.s.s lights hung low over booths situated against dark paneled walls. The Eagle's "Hotel California" played a backdrop to soft murmurs of voices traveling about the room as smoke seemed to gather about the light s. No one paid them any mind, which was exactly the kind of atmosphere Lau rie had been looking for.

"So, how's the story coming?" Cindy asked. "I heard they found another body . How did you get out there so fast? George said he had tried to get a hold of you and you weren't home. He even sent out another reporter to the scen e, though he had very little to report. The cops barred the entrance."

Laurie used her fork to toy with the salad in front of her. "Intuition. My s canner spit something about car 33-12 was to 10-21, which is call the statio n. There had been a phone in. Being seven in the morning, I wondered why the y wouldn't report it over the airwaves unless it was big. Then I heard anoth er cruiser being dispatched to the Cleveland Motel. So, I got dressed and we nt over there to check the situation."

"How in the world did you get into the motel if they weren't allowing anyone past the front door?"

Laurie chuckled. Cindy's eyes rounded as she sat on the edge of her seat, fas cinated. "I sneaked in the back door."

"And you didn't get caught?"

"Not at first, but when I came out, Lieutenant Kincaid was going through th e Dumpster in the back. He hauled me to the station."

"On what charge?" she gasped.

"None. We had a stalemate. I told him I would have him slapped with a lawsui t for the way he was treating me and he said he'd charge me and the paper fo r interfering in a police investigation. So, wanting the story, I went to th e station willingly."

"From what I hear," Cindy leaned in closer, "Lieutenant Kincaid is gorgeous .".

"The rumor-mill is correct this time," Laurie laughed. "What I wouldn't do...

" her words trailed off as a breeze floated across the room, raising the hair s on her arms. "Did you feel that?"

"What?" Cindy asked between bites of Beef Manhattan.

"That breeze? It almost felt like a cold blast coming off Lake Erie."

"Probably just the air-conditioning."

"No. It was much more icy."

Laurie rubbed her hands up and down her arms to try and smooth out the goo seflesh popping across her skin. A sense of trepidation clawed up her spin e: she felt as though someone watched her.

"What's wrong, Laurie? I think the case is starting to freak you out, girl," Cindy scolded.

"Nothing's wrong," she a.s.sured. "You're right. This case is getting to me."

Laurie turned her head, her face mere inches from the crotch of a very tall man. Glancing upward, Laurie met fathomless coal-black eyes. He placed a h and on the back of her booth seat, tucked his black hair behind one ear, an d grinned.

"Don't I know you?" the deep voice of Damien Vincent asked, swathing her better than a tomato worm when he readies himself for the change of seaso ns. "Oh yeah," he chuckled, "you're the one I saw Cole with a couple of w eeks back. What was your name? Laurie..."

"Michaels," she finished for him.

"Hey, how's the finger?" He grasped her hand so quickly she didn't have time to react. A thin white line remained from the cut. "Looks like it healed."

Her pulse raced, her breathing hampered, and she jerked her hand from his. "

It's fine, thank you."

"Who's your pretty friend?" Damien asked, his voice was deep-his eyes hypn otizing.

Cindy's small round face beamed from the attention as she turned her baby b lue eyes on the tall singer, batting her long lashes. She offered him her h and. "Cindy VanWarren."

"Cindy," he repeated, the name rolling from his lips like the forked tongue of a snake. Pure evil in the making; Satan's offspring. Laurie couldn't hel p being reminded of her Catholic upbringing and G.o.d's promise to the serpent in Genesis three. Upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust thou shalt eat all the days of thy life. She could imagine Damien slithering on his belly, hea ding for his prey. "Maybe Cole could bring you back to see us play again som etime, Laurie, and you could bring this little sprite with you," Damien said , not once taking his eyes from Cindy.

"Cole and I...well, what I mean is...we aren't-"

"Lovers?" he finished for her and let go of Cindy's hand as he turned his att ention back to her.

"Certainly not," Laurie rushed in explanation. Her face heated.

"Had I known he had no designs on you himself, maybe I would have taken y ou home that night. Seems like a waste of such beauty." Damien's face hel d no humor, not even the slightest amount of amus.e.m.e.nt to tell her whethe r or not he jested.

"You think well of yourself. Given the chance, I still would have gone home alone."

Damien tilted his head slightly back and laughed, causing the bile to churn in her stomach. Containing his merriment, he said, "Maybe. Then again-had I offered...No matter. Cole is the fool for allowing such a fine woman to w alk away."

"And how do you know it was his choice?" Laurie asked, disturbed by his c ondescending att.i.tude that all women would flock uncontrollably to men.

"It's always his choice. I've brought home quite a few women to meet him. It'

s not that they aren't interested."

On that note, Laurie had to agree. After meeting Cole, it hadn't taken her long to be captivated by him. Women probably flocked to his doorstep.

Damien stuck his finger in Cindy's red wine and brought it to his lips, suc king the wetness from his finger. Laurie's shoulders shuddered as a finely spun thread of evil wove its way down her spine, remembering all too well w hen he had suckled her finger. Damien then ran the same wet finger down her right earlobe, causing Laurie to jerk her head from his touch. He winked a t her and said, "Maybe I'll see you around."

"Don't count on it," Laurie grumbled beneath her breath as he walked away.

"He's kind of cute-in a dark way," Cindy said, her eyes following the large m an to his place at the polished bar.

Laurie's gaze landed on the enigma. "In a very dark way."

Finished with lunch, Laurie and Cindy left their table, unaware that Laurie's right earring had dropped to the floor. The waiting dark figure picked it up .

Chapter 11.

BS: Ah,sir , you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hu nter. The killer's taunt stared up at Cole from his note pad as he sat in a re cliner in his apartment. A rerun of M.A.S.H. played on his television set, tho ugh he saw little of it, his thoughts preoccupied elsewhere.

He could not leave his work at the office, no matter how hard he tried. Files littered the side table. Pictures were scattered across his lap. He saw this case at work, in his head, and in his dreams. When in the company of others, he talked about little else. He had nothing in common with the outside world ; his world revolved around the case.

His pa.s.sion for his work, among other things, had contributed to the end of his marriage. It had not ended the night Jeanne died; it had ended long be fore. Cole stayed home little, and when he had, he was unable to find a con nection with his wife, or Jeanne accused him of being distant on numerous occasions. She had reached the age of twenty-seven and wanted to start a fam ily.

Cole had not agreed.

Their life was far too complicated at the time with her newly found law prac tice and his work as a detective to bring a life into the world. Jeanne and he had shared many arguments over her wanting a child, always ending in a st alemate with neither of them talking.

A notable case had landed on his desk, preoccupying most of his time. One p articular night, when he had arrived home late from the station, Jeanne had planned a special evening at home, greeting him at the door in a red, shee r negligee. Of course, Cole had been delighted. After all, his wife was stu nning in whatever she wore, but this...this was beyond words.

h.e.l.l, he wanted to forget the candlelight supper she had planned, leave his case at the back of his mind, and carry his wife to their bed. She refused, saying she had gone to too much trouble. Everything was perfect, except that for the duration of the meal he remained hard enough to drive through steel.

Finally, she pushed her plate aside, walked around the table and sat upon h is lap, sans underwear. Cole's hands found her b.r.e.a.s.t.s; he cupped each one tenderly and his lips nibbled at the crook of her neck. He had never wanted someone so much in his life, except for maybe the first time they had made love. This woman captivated his heart and soul.

"Cole," she whispered into his ear, the sound feather soft as it tickled the h airs on his neck. "I stopped taking the pill-a month ago."

His hands stilled; his muscles ached from unrequited need. d.a.m.n her, but the y had talked about this. They had agreed, or at least he thought they agreed , to wait another three years or so. Cole was not ready to be a father. Not now, for G.o.d's sake, not when he had to work so hard to make lieutenant.

"Jeanne. We've discussed this. I'm not ready for a baby."

"I refuse to take the pill, Cole. I've been under the care of a doctor and h ave been using the thermometer. The time is right. We can make a baby tonigh t," she whispered against his ear.

What was once hard, quickly became soft. He could not be pressured to perf orm-could not be forced to become a father.

Grasping her beneath the arms, he set her aside and left the room. Hours la ter, she found him fast asleep in bed. The marriage was over, yet he hadn't been ready to admit it. He could not get hard had he wanted to-he should h ave taken that as a sign, but he feared impotency. In desperation, he decid ed to give Jeanne what she wanted hoping it would save their failing marria ge, but even then he could not manage an erection. And sometime around that point, Jeanne had taken to sleeping with his best friend, Charley Nash, wh o had little trouble giving her what she wanted.

But his condition was not permanent. Shortly after Jeanne's death, he had no problems at all. He slept with several women, taking them home after a drinking binge, waking up, not even knowing their names.