But was he a shitty person? Was that why he was someone’s target?
I wasn’t saying that meant he deserved to be murdered. No, far from it, and just because we were shitty to one person—murder wasn’t ever justified for that.
I simply had to think like a killer to do my job.
I snorted when I went over to his gaming setup and saw that the police hadn’t even taken it. And the house was unlocked? Fools. Had they really never dealt with a possible murder?
No, the city was big enough that this was ridiculous.
But lucky for me.
There were a few other things I boxed up and decided to take with me that might be nothing but could be helpful. Everything felt off to me. Subtle… But off. It felt like other scenes I’d been to with this murderer.
Or maybe I was reaching and just hoping I could put a stop to this killer. Finally. Get one off the board.
Because unfortunately, this wasn’t the only one I’d been chasing for years or who had eluded me. Life was too complicated and messy that everything wasn’t always easily wrapped up. Certainly not at the end of the season like tv shows and things nicely wrapped up to make sense.
Real life rarely made sense.
I gasped as I felt my body come alive.
At a fucking crime scene.
It was as if I’d stepped out of a hot tub and into freezing cold temperatures. That titillating, overwhelming feeling that’s actually exciting because your nipples instantly get hard and your body just feels more.
Mason.
Mason was playing with his new control over me—his new magical toy basically.
And I loved every fucking second of it.
Okay fine, not at a damn crime scene, but knowing he’d never been so close to another woman or had a chance to explore any bond with her just flat did it for me. Yes, it was a bit controlling and dominating of him, but for someone who had been abused again and again as I had, some healthy obsession was healing.
Fine, obsession probably never was, but I fucking loved it.
I checked my phone and saw I had two missed texts and a call from him over the past few hours. The last one was over an hour ago, making it clear he knew about the murder and needed to see me before I went undercover.
“Well, he’s making that clear,” I chuckled as I quickly texted back that I would be to him soon and I was sorry for not responding.
But that I was at a crime scene so to please cut it out.
Also, that I was using a lot of glamour, so I had to swing by the angels to feed, but then I would be right home.
“What are you doing here?” a woman demanded from the doorway.
“Oh fuck,” I gasped and almost dropped my phone.
“Yeah, you’re not doing anything wrong,” she drawled.
I shot her the look she deserved before tapping my visible badge. “I’m where I should be, but you aren’t and yeah, I’m always juggling a lot.” I wiggled my phone like she hadn’t seen me distracted. “Who are you?”
“You don’t need to know that,” she told me firmly. “I asked what you’re doing here.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “Okay, and I just showed you my badge, and the owner of this house is dead. I’m here investigating that. So yes, you do need to tell me who you are because you’re trespassing.” I wanted to roll my eyes when she frowned as if trying to work that out in her head. I showed her the box I had. “I’m getting extra evidence that was missed.”
Her eyes flashed hope. “So you believe it was murder? The one detective was too dismissive. He barely listened to me and said Steven just took some bad drugs, but that boy didn’t do drugs. Ever. Drank too much, sure, but—most men do.”
“I cannot comment on an ongoing investigation,” I told her politely but waved off what she was going to say next and met her gaze. “But things aren’t adding up to me. So anything you have to say that could help, I would like to hear. Truly.”
