Hopefully one who’d be strong and fight. Show a will to live, at least.
Although Yana had been a screamer. The thrill of seeing the soul desert the body, knowing it wanted to be free, had created an orgasm worthy of a climax-inducing sonnet. Lovely.
That final second when life left the body, when the eyes transitioned from sparkling to dull, from occupied to so completely empty, was one most people never saw. Never experienced. Never enjoyed.
To be immersed in that moment was bliss. True, untouched, pure bliss. And Yana had struggled with the inevitability, sounds of denial emerging from her chest, from her lungs, from her soul. Was it possible that even the soul fought death?
The ropes had frayed this time and blood coated the strands. It might be time to buy more ropes, but these had been so helpful. With each blond vision, they’d held tight, allowing plenty of time for play. Blondes truly were more fun, as the saying went. Of course, that was obvious for anybody with a brain.
Hail battered the metal and the body slumped on the cold snow outside the metal container as if even the gods were irritated. What made a god? The ability to bestow life or death—choose between life and death?
Perhaps.
Either way, the next blonde had already been chosen. She was intriguing and different from the rest. A beauty who might be difficult to catch. It would be a challenge to capture her, for sure. She was a worthy prize.
But first, Yana’s former shell had one more job to perform, and the timing had to be just right. Laurel was going to love it.
* * *
Meyer Jackson looked like a defeated man in his striped, orange jumpsuit. Greasy blond hair hung to his shoulders, red striations permeated the whiteness around his pupils, and his shoulders slumped until his chest appeared concave. “We can talk now,” he said wearily.
Laurel sat next to Walter on the other side of a metal table from Meyer Jackson, cataloguing the young man’s mannerisms. “You’re represented by an attorney. We have to wait,” she said.
The door opened and a handsome man in a light beige suit strode in. His blondish hair was swept high on his head and he wore round, black-rimmed metal glasses. His shirt was a starched white, and his tie a deep burgundy with a matching handkerchief in his breast pocket. Fancy. “Sorry I’m late. There was a wreck on Main Street, and I had to stop to make sure everyone was okay.” He plunked a leather briefcase on the floor and took the seat next to Jackson, his gaze landing on Laurel. “Oh. Hello.” He partially stood and held out a hand, his gaze appreciative.
Laurel shook his hand. His palm was warm and his shake gentle. “I’m Agent Snow.”
“Steve Bearing,” he said, retaking his seat, his gaze wandering her face. “It really is a pleasure.”
Laurel blinked. “From the Bearing Law Firm?”
“Yes.” Pleasure flitted across his handsome face. “You’ve heard of us?”
“I have,” Laurel said. Casey Morgan had worked for the Bearing Law Firm and had been kidnapped after leaving work. Laurel would have to interview Bearing separate from his client. Was he a witness? She’d either schedule an interview or just show up at the law firm and see what she could shake out. She shifted her weight on the hard chair, facing the defendant. “Mr. Jackson, tell me about Casey.”
Tears instantly filled Meyer’s eyes. “Casey was the kindest soul you could ever meet. We started dating a year and a half ago, but it wasn’t exclusive, even after Huck Rivers dumped her. She still hooked up with him whenever he bothered to make a booty call. Well, he’d call, and she’d show up with her booty.”
Bearing sighed next to Jackson.
Laurel’s back tingled and her neck heated. What was that all about? Jealousy? No. That would be ridiculous. “We will be able to obtain a warrant to verify any phone calls made between Ms. Morgan and Captain Rivers, just so you know.”
“That won’t help.” Meyer groused. “He didn’t call. No, he was too cool to call. All he had to do was drive by her work. Then she’d call him later when she was off. What a dick.”
“She’d contact him from the law firm?” Laurel asked.
“No. Casey had two jobs because she’d gotten herself into some serious debt.” Meyer picked a scab on his elbow. “Besides being a paralegal, she was the night manager of the Dairy Dumplin’ over on Granite Street. Huck Rivers would go into the drive-through a lot. Casey told me that he just liked their coffee and burgers, but that wasn’t it. It was his way of getting her to show up for sex. Bastard probably got free food, too.” He stood. “I can’t do this. I don’t know anything more than that. My trial is coming up, so please remember that I’m not an asshole when I’m not drinking.”
Laurel looked up. “The Dairy Dumplin’?” Where Uncle Carl apparently liked to eat? She shuffled the thought to the back of her brain to pick apart later. For now, she needed more from Meyer. “Even if Casey was seeing Huck, why do you think he killed her?”
“She was afraid of him,” Meyer said, his head dropping. “Even though she still loved him and thought he could change, she was terrified of him. So when he told her to come over, she did. I don’t get it, but it was like her fear and her love were all combined in her head. Hell. Maybe it turned her on.”
“Why was she afraid of him?” Laurel asked.
Meyer shrugged. “She said he’d threatened her before, and I know he hit her at least once that she told me about.”
Laurel sat back. She hadn’t gotten an impression of violence from Huck. “I assume you told the police this once her body was discovered?”
“Sure,” Meyer said.
