“I see your lips moving, but it’s hard to have a rational thought with you pressing against me.”
“Aye.” He winked. “Tonight, I’ll be sure to ram home my point.”
Becca’s panties dampened at the thought. “Okay, caveman. Put me down. I’ve got a gazillion pictures to go through. You can help…only if you promise to keep your hands to yourself.”
Ian slowly lowered her body down his, making sure she felt every inch of what he’d promised. She was in for a long, hot night, and God, if she didn’t want him to wear her out, ensuring no dream came again.
“What did you find?”
“The door belongs to a shrink. One of her clients is obsessed with me. I’m looking for a specific picture. I’m hoping it can give us some answers.”
Ian moved to the bed, handed her a box and took one himself. “What does the picture look like?”
Becca showed him the hand-drawn picture from her birthday party. “This. I need to know who he took out of the picture.”
“This mentally disturbed person drew this of you? Does that mean he was at your birthday party?”
She nodded. “He’s a friend of the family.”
“Do you think he’s the killer?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. The murdered girls look like me: same hair color, same eyes. He could be the one. It would make sense.”
“Then I guess we should find that picture.”
Ian pressed his lips to hers once more before starting to flip through pictures. She grabbed her own box and started looking, only with her it was a slower process, looking at each with fondness while recalling the memories. She didn’t tell Ian about the rest of the pictures that he’d drawn of her, or the well behind her mom’s house. She’d been around Michael a lot as a young girl. He could have kidnapped her or worse, and no one would have known. The opportunities were there, yet he hadn’t.
Hours after her brothers-in-law had left, Ian and she were still looking through pictures. The natural sunlight in the room started to dim and made her vision blur.
Ian rose and dropped his pictures in a pile he’d been accumulating. He held out his hand. “Come on, lass. We need a break.”
The smell of coffee drifted to her nose as she walked out of her room.
She’d expected her living room to be in shambles from whatever security measures her brothers-in-law were installing, but instead, it looked as if they’d never been there at all. Stealthy fuckers. No wonder Harper never had a clue that Ryker had been inside her house or watched her for months.
Seconds later her doorbell rang, and Ian followed her to answer it. She went to pull it open when his hand landed on the door.
“Never just open your door until you know who’s on the other side, lass.”
Ian looked through the peephole and swung the door open, blocking Becca’s view.
“Who are you?” His words vibrated in demand.
“Pizza delivery,” the teen answered, his voice shaking.
Becca elbowed Ian out of the way. “We didn’t order one.”
He glanced at the ticket attached to the box. “Betty Thatcher ordered it, paid for it, and covered the tip.” He held out the box, along with an envelope. “She paid extra for me to give you this.”
Becca took the envelope while Ian took the pizza before shutting the door on the teen’s face. She was going to have to break him from being so rude. She slid her finger beneath the flap as Ian walked into the kitchen.
Becca pulled out the picture that was tucked inside the envelope. It was the same picture that Becca and Ian had spent hours searching for. This one was the original, and it showed Becca exactly who had been marked over in anger.
“It was…Betty,” Becca whispered to herself as she flipped the picture over, looking for a date. Instead, there was handwriting on the back.
Meetme at your mother’s house tomorrow at noon for tea, and I’ll explain everything.
~Aunt Betty
