Carved in Blood (Evan Lane Mystery Book 1) Read online

  Sammie shrugged. “It’s just a drawing.”

  Although what I suspected what was on her mind was on my mind, too— finalizing our relationship and thus our lives—I put down the napkin and slid it back toward her. My thoughts were elsewhere. “You know, on the victims there was the strangest thing,” I said.

  Sammie’s attention to me turned magnetic, and a current of understanding passed between us. Sammie was the kind of woman who, when you were with her, everything else faded away. Being there with her made everything in the background disappear. My gaze drifted to her lips, full, round, and painted a burnt red. Anticipating she’d ask me a question, I waited for her to speak first. When she didn’t, I stroked the defined edge of her face, her soft skin, with my thumb.

  Sammie moved out of my reach, and I kept my hand suspended there in the air, halfway between us. “What were you about to tell me, about the victims?” she said.

  I pulled my hand back and rested my elbows on the hard bar, the wood cool through my long-sleeve shirt. “Oh, it was nothing. The scene wasn’t too bad, not really.” When discussing my job with those outside the industry, I often left out the more grisly details of the work I did with my team. As a former detective, Sammie could have handled them, but I didn’t want to bring the more unpleasant aspects of my job, the nasty, vile things I literally came into contact with on a daily basis, into our relationship. My moments with Sammie were the only pure things I had in my life.

  Sammie got quiet and was hard to read, and this made me nervous. I ordered another beer. “Do you want another drink?” I asked her.

  Sammie held up her half-finished glass but didn’t speak. When she got in one of those moods, it meant something was on her mind and bothering her but she wasn’t going to tell me what. Sammie opened the one bar menu we’d been given.

  “I love you,” I said.

  She nodded. “Let’s order.”

  “Do you want to split something?” Someone walking past the bar bumped into me and murmured sorry. I waited for Sammie to share the menu with me, like always, but she didn’t.

  “No, I think I’ll get my own thing tonight.” She didn’t look up from reading the menu.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Sammie closed the menu and pushed it down the counter to me.

  “Let me know if you want to pay separately,” I remarked under my breath.

  To my surprise, Sammie laughed, a full, genuine laugh. “That’s not necessary, my love.”

  And I breathed out in relief that she wasn’t that angry with me.

  Our apartment building didn’t have a garage, so after we left Kelly’s, Sammie had to drive around our neighborhood a few times to find a space to park our car. We carried the groceries from the trunk of our car up the three flights of stairs—the building lacked an elevator—to our apartment, which we owned. Sammie waved to a neighbor in our hall and Paige greeted us at the door to our apartment with her tail wagging. She wove around our legs and sniffed the grocery bags in our hands when we reached down to pet her. Sammie and I carried the bags into the kitchen and put what she bought into the refrigerator and the cupboards.

  Sammie uncorked the bottle of red wine she’d bought and removed two glasses from the kitchen shelf. She poured our drinks, took hers, and left mine on the table as she headed into the cozy living room. Paige followed her, like she followed her wherever Sammie went. The dog loved her more than me but I’d never held it against either of them. I picked up my glass. Dinner had been a few sandwiches and, still hungry from having not eaten much earlier in the day, I snatched a large bag of potato chips from the kitchen counter, and proceeded to join them on the couch.

  When I had trouble opening the chips bag, Sammie grabbed it from me and opened it. She didn’t take any chips and handed me the bag over Paige, who’d curled up between us, as though she, too, felt the tension thickening in the small living room.

  Sammie swallowed the rest of her wine and set the glass on the coffee table. I sipped my drink, well aware of the warming buzz I already had from the drink taking over my body. I held out the bag of potato chips to Sammie, and Paige stuck her nose inside the bag.

  Sammie laughed at Paige’s antics and I smiled a little. I loved her laugh. I put my glass down on the table, gently scooted Paige over, and leaned in to kiss Sammie. Sammie looked away and I motioned for Paige to get off the couch. With the dog now in her bed by the TV, I moved close to Sammie and settled my arm around her shoulders. After a few moments of Sammie ignoring me and looking the other way, she tilted her head and rested on my chest, and I held her even more tightly. I gave her a gentle kiss and she kissed me back in a rougher, exciting way. Sammie moved and her soft, small breasts rubbed against my side. I could feel her body relaxing into mine.

  “There’s something I haven’t told you. I’ve been keeping something from you,” I said.

  “I know you have been. That’s why I’ve been upset. And I had a pretty shitty day at work. You know how it is.” Sammie sat up and moved back to her side of the couch. The room felt colder.

  Paige whined and cocked her head at us. She jumped up from her bed onto the couch and inserted herself between us, giving each of us a few nudges with her nose. She wanted to play the role of the peacemaker.

  “I’m sorry about your day. I haven’t said anything before but my days haven’t been so good either.” I waited to speak until Paige settled at Sammie’s side. “The person who’s been killing the young men carved a message into their bodies, into their torsos. It referenced the name, Evelyn.” I pushed out the words slowly, watching Sammie as I talked, bracing for her reaction. Then relief calmed me, because I’d finally told her.

  “I know.” She breathed out. “I know what it said, Evan. I know the whole thing.”

  “You didn’t tell me?” I stood up and walked to the window, where a streetlamp outside brightened the room. Paige snuggled into the couch and fell asleep. Her soft breathing filled the space.

  “A friend told me. She’s on the homicide force,” Sammie said. “Everyone on the force is excited about the possibility of a genuine serial killer in Seven Sisters. You know how it is with those guys, it’s a big deal to get a case like this and could further a lot of people’s careers. Everyone wants a piece of the action. My friend said there’s even talk of bringing the FBI in to help with the case.”

  I tried not to sound accusatory. “And you didn’t say anything because?” We both had been hiding something from the other.

  Sammie got up and put her arm around my waist. “I didn’t want to frighten you.”

  She pulled me into her but I didn’t face her. “You’re the only one in this city who I’ve told my birth name to,” I said. Then I turned to look at her and tears bloomed and shone in her eyes in the darkness. I hated that I’d made her cry.

  Sincerity deepened her gaze. I’d thought we were close, but how close could we have been if she had a friend I didn’t know about? I smoothed back her soft hair with my palm and pulled her in close to my chest. Sammie rested her warm face against the curve of my neck. Her heart beat against me in a slow, steady rhythm.

  “She, an old friend on the force, told me something else—during the investigation they found that the apartment at that luxury place—what’s it called?” Sammie said. “Do you remember?”

  “The Tower on the Cove. After the trouble the manager gave me, how could I forget?” I looked at her.

  “What sort of trouble did he give you?” she asked.

  We hadn’t talked about that part of my day. “I’m sorry I made you cry, sweetheart.” I dried her eyes and kissed her face. “The trouble was nothing—not a big deal. Who’s your friend?”

  “Christy.”

  “I’ve never met her.”

  “You did once, at the city’s Christmas party.”

  “Right. No, I don’t remember her.”

  “You did meet her the one time. You probably forgot. When Christy told me about the name on the victims’ bodie
s, I decided I needed to get to the bottom of what’s going on. I managed to pull out of her that the Cove apartment’s rent is being paid by someone living in Marseille, named A-something.”

  “Mars? Say what?”

  Sammie pronounced the name slowly. “Marseille. It’s a city in southern France. I looked it up on my phone.”

  I let out a long whistle. “Europe.”

  “Yes. The detectives working the case found out from Interpol. This person has an address where their mail is being forwarded to a post office box in Lamont, also registered to an A.”

  “To—where did you say again?” Lamont was the closest city to Freedom Village, which wasn’t a great distance from Seven Sisters either.

  “Lamont. It’s—”

  “I know where it is,” I said, and we both looked at each other. “Have they found fingerprints?”

  “I’m not sure.” Sammie’s lips tightened as something seemed to dawn on her. “Lamont. That’s near where you grew up, isn’t it?”

  I nodded, went back to the coffee table, and drained my wineglass. I grabbed Sammie’s empty glass and held it between my fingers next to mine. “Want another?” I asked.

  Her voice got so quiet I could hardly understand her but I heard the words, “Yeah. I love you, Evan. I’m sorry about before.” Sammie turned on the television and sat on the couch.

  “I’m sorry, too.” I gestured to the chips bag on the couch and Sammie shook her head, so I took it with me and walked into the kitchen with our glasses in my hands. Paige hopped off the couch and, oddly, followed me. It was getting late, and I supposed she wanted to go out for her evening walk. I spoke loud enough so Sammie could hear me in the living room. “Paige wants to go for a walk. I’ll take her out after I fix our drinks.”

  “Okay.”

  The sounds of the evening news, commentary, and the weather forecast, played in the other room. I listened but didn’t hear anything about the boys who’d been killed. No one cared. Except for a few cops, and Sammie and me, and my work crew. Sirens screeched outside and I jumped. The wine spilled out in a thin, slithering red trail on the white counter, and I wiped it up with a dishtowel before it dripped off the side onto the floor tiles.

  The TV shut off in the other room. Sammie walked into the kitchen and set her hand on mine as I poured. “I’ll come with you to walk Paige,” she said.

  “You’re sure? I thought you wanted to watch TV.” I turned around and handed her a full glass. I picked up mine and she bracketed me against the counter while we drank, watching each other.

  My gaze dropped from her deep-set eyes to the inviting curves of her lips, moist and stained from the wine. Silence could pass between Sammie and me for hours and there still would be a connection between us that charged the air. I felt that if I held up my hand I could almost touch the current circulating around us, something warm, comforting, and a little sensuous; something I could hold onto.

  Paige nudged her way between our legs and peered up at us. Sammie smiled and leaned into me and Paige bumped into my knees. “What I want is to take a walk with my family,” Sammie said.

  Family. We’d never referred to the three of us as that before, and it scared me a little. But I liked what it stood for and that it offered the promises of everlasting commitment and support. Something I’d thought I had with my mother until she confessed to the murders, and something I’d only recently started to believe I could experience again, when I met Sammie and then we adopted Paige from a rescue. And what if someday, our family included children? Did I want someone so dependent on me?

  Part of the idea of building a new family frightened me because the one my mother had created for us eroded so fast once she signed her confession to accept a plea deal and was imprisoned. Rightfully so, but she was still my mother and I’d loved her before then and had believed in her innocence up until her confession. Even later, I could never bring myself around to truly hating her but I despised her repugnant actions.

  That she might be innocent had scarcely crossed my mind. She’d admitted in writing to killing those young men, and by that, her innocence seemed unlikely. Not a day went by, though, when I hadn’t wish for her to somehow be proven innocent and be cleared of her crimes, because even though I’d already lost time and years with her and because of her, and could never get those back, I didn’t want to walk around with the label of murderer’s child stuck to my back if I didn’t have to, if she wasn’t really that.

  “We can finish our drinks when we get back,” Sammie said, and set down her glass behind me.

  I reached out and pressed my fingertips into her slender waist. She curled her fingers around my arm and squeezed my muscle. Sammie kissed me slowly, pulling on my bottom lip in a tender but persistent way, a very alluring way to me, and she tasted rich like the wine. She slipped away and took Paige’s lead off the coat hanger by the front door. I drained my glass, figuring I could always have another when we returned, then got my jacket and walked with them out into the hallway.

  Later than night, I received a text from Em asking me, if we didn’t have a job site to go to in the morning, to meet her for coffee at the diner. There was such a sense of urgency in her message that I answered back yes.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning I arrived at the diner a few blocks from the apartment I shared with Sammie. Em wasn’t there. The server poured me a cup of coffee and put a menu on the table, and I asked for an extra menu for Em for when she arrived. I slid her menu to the spot across from me where she’d sit once she came. I hadn’t asked her why she wanted to meet with me but we were on friendly terms and I wasn’t too concerned.

  I texted Sammie at work to see how she was doing. I’d been somewhat relieved that she hadn’t mentioned the word ‘family’ since last night, and we’d gone through our routine of walking Paige and reading the newspapers together, a routine we followed when work permitted us to have some leisure.

  I’m worried about Paige not eating very much this morning, Sammie wrote.

  I texted her back. She’s fine. Whoever gets home first will check on her. Don’t worry!

  The dog had been treated for cancer last year, and so far the disease had stayed away. Now, any slight change in Paige’s behavior concerned Sammie, whereas I tended to downplay things that worried me, to protect Sammie.

  Em came into the diner about ten minutes late, looking flustered, and bringing in a warm breeze with her. I’d been texting Sammie until she had to resume working. I waved to Em from the booth.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Em patted a few pieces of her curly, red hair that had come out of her twist and brushed against her eyes. “Trent wanted to come with his mommy, and I told him he had to go to his preschool but he wouldn’t have any of that. It took a long time to get him out of the house. I feel so awful about the whole thing. He really did want to come with me.” I could hear the love she had for her son in her voice and the exhaustion of being a single mother. She sat down across from me and removed her coat, folding it in her lap. “Did you already order?” she asked.

  “No, I waited for you,” I said.

  “Thanks, Evan.” Her generous smiled accentuated her somewhat crooked teeth. “Are you okay? You look stressed.”

  “No, it’s—I’m fine. Do you want coffee? I’ll let the waiter know.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Em set her shoulder bag on the tabletop and took out her phone. She read something on the screen and let out a poignant sigh.

  I made eye contact with our server and touched my cup and then pointed to Em to show him what we wanted. He came over with a pot of coffee, poured some into Em’s cup and refilled mine. “Are you ready to order?” he asked.

  “We need a few minutes,” Em replied. She pushed aside the pitcher of milk the server had set on the table when I arrived. A woman with a young child walked past the diner window and I caught Em watching them, and I wondered if she wished she could spend more time with her son.

  “Is everything all right with you?�
� I asked her when the server left the table. “You seem distracted.” I picked up and opened my menu.

  “Truth is, I am. Sorry.” Em put her phone in her bag.

  “What’s going on?” I put my menu down. I already knew what I’d order, the same thing I ordered every time I came there—a chocolate death donut—chocolate cake coated with melted dark chocolate and topped with chocolate chips. And the nearest to heaven I expected I would ever get. I drank some coffee and waited for Em to open up to me.

  “You really want to know?” she said.

  There’d always been an unspoken rule of mine at work: those I managed shouldn’t bring outside baggage into our occupation. But seeing the tension in Em’s eyes and the worry lines on her young face, I knew I could make an exception for her. “Yes, I do,” I said. “What’s going on?”

  Em released another sigh. “I asked you to meet me here because I needed someone to talk to, and you always give good advice.”

  “I’m not sure about that, but go on.”

  “I want to send Trent to this private school next year when he starts kindergarten, and I recently found out he didn’t get the scholarship I applied for. The local, free school near us is dangerous. There’s a lot of gang violence. A couple of kids were shot there.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah, it happened last year. Yesterday, I’d written to the private school to ask if there was any way they’d change their minds about the scholarship, and just now they wrote to tell me they’re sorry, but no. It’s been such a terrible ordeal because Trent was accepted to the school but I can’t afford the tuition without some kind of assistance. He’s really smart but it’s just the luck of the draw, you know?” She looked across at me and shrugged. Em opened her menu but didn’t read it. “I guess I’ll have eggs over easy and toast,” she said.