The Perfect Murder (Last Stand 6) - Page 44/96

If he could get the damn exemplars, what else stood in their way? “Like…”

“Someone who’s been taking drugs, who’s exhausted or ill or emotionally distraught, may write differently when in that state.”

After what he’d seen on various forensic shows, he’d thought it would be easier. But ever since Colton and Emily had died, he’d realized that nothing about police work was easy. “I understand.”

He hung up-and immediately started thinking about Jane again. How was she doing with the various Indian casinos? She hadn’t called, but she hadn’t been gone that long, either.

Should he act on her suggestion to tell Malcolm that Mary wanted to send him a package? Maybe if it came from Mary’s work e-mail, it would lend him even more credibility. It would certainly build a more believable picture. And if he had Mary tell Malcolm she was shipping it via FedEx, they might be able to get an address out of him. Most people knew that FedEx and other couriers couldn’t deliver to a P.O. box.

“You like to gamble, Malcolm? Let’s roll the dice,” he said and called to see if he could get hold of Mary.

It wasn’t her first time. Marcie had been wrong about that. Latisha was on the pill. She’d been sleeping with a waiter she’d met at the restaurant. She just hadn’t told her sister or anyone else. Although sex with Wesley Boss had been very different-merely physical, mechanical, an act of panic and desperation, not mutual attraction-Latisha couldn’t regret it. She and her sister would both be dead if she hadn’t done what she’d done.

As Wesley curled around her and began to doze off, she stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out how well she’d survived the experience. She certainly hadn’t enjoyed herself, but it hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected. She’d merely separated her mind from her body, closed her eyes and imagined she was swimming in a deep pool, submerged under water, where she could see only murky shapes and hear only muted sounds.

In less than fifteen minutes he was finished. And he hadn’t been cruel or particularly rough. She would’ve been grateful for that, except she was pretty sure his “normal” approach was what had her so confused. This was rape, or a form of it, yet there’d been no violence. She’d always associated rape with brute force.

Movement in the next room told her Marcie was as agitated now as she’d been when she fought to keep Latisha from going with Wesley. Because her sister had received a quick kick to the face for her efforts, Marcie was more badly hurt than Latisha. But Latisha knew the physical injuries Marcie had sustained-so far-would heal. She was more worried about the psychological damage. Her sister was already so angry at the world. Their mother, her father, certain schoolteachers and various peers had let her down so terribly. Marcie didn’t need another reason to hate…

Resisting the urge to grab her clothes, Latisha drew a careful breath so she wouldn’t disturb Wesley. She and her sister were alive. For now that was all that mattered.

“Am I too heavy on you?” he muttered.

She froze. He wasn’t asleep, after all. And that was something her boyfriend might’ve said to her. “No.”

“That was freakin’ amazing,” he gushed. “You did great.”

How did she respond to such praise? She hadn’t done anything at all except lie still and let him use her.

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” He rose up to see her face, and the entreaty in his expression surprised her. “No big deal, right?”

She could tell he wanted to believe it. He preferred not to acknowledge that what he’d done was one of the worst crimes imaginable.

She resisted the temptation to make him aware of what his actions made him. No self-respecting cop would’ve done this, yet he prided himself on his police background more than anything. But she was afraid he’d get rid of her that much sooner if she did. The memory of him standing in the doorway with that gun, which he’d since unloaded and hidden under the mattress, was too clear in her mind. She had to outsmart him, had to play him better than that. Chances were she’d gain more by winning his friendship. Someday maybe she’d be able to get a bullet or two from his pocket, where he’d dumped them, and load that gun he’d put under the mattress…

“You said if I slept with you, you’d let us go,” she whispered.

“You rejected that offer.”

She swallowed hard. “But…I came in here with you last night.”

“Only to save your skin. That’s not the same.”

“So…will you ever let us go?”

He was lying down again. When he didn’t answer, she tilted her head to look at him and found him watching her. “Of course. Someday,” he said.

But he didn’t mean it. He hadn’t asked if she was on the pill, hadn’t bothered with any birth control. That alone told her he didn’t expect her to be around long enough to worry about getting her pregnant. Marcie had been right from the very beginning. He had no intention of letting them go. Their only chance was the one Latisha was taking. If she could make him want her, make him like her, he might keep her around and, in time, maybe she’d be able to create an opportunity for escape.

Or an opportunity to put a bullet in his chest.

“Are you ready to do it again?” she asked.

He raised his head. “You want more?”

Her muscles tensed with revulsion. “Why not?”

“There you go, girl. Doesn’t hurt a damn thing, does it.” He smiled eagerly. “Give me a few minutes to rest.”

When he eventually rolled on top of her, she hummed silently to herself, swimming in that same deep imaginary pool where she could feel nothing but the water swirling around her limbs. She and Marcie would get away. Wesley was human.

That meant he had weaknesses.

Fourteen

The pressure Jane felt to work fast made their day at the casinos seem interminable. She knew from what she’d witnessed at TLS that real investigations weren’t like what she saw in the movies. They could be tedious. But this was her first experience feeling such intense personal responsibility to see that the case moved faster.

“We’re getting nowhere,” she complained to Jonathan after they’d spent several hours asking dealers and waitresses at each casino about the picture Sebastian had given her. Some said they’d never seen the man, others said they couldn’t be positive-too many people passed through a casino to remember them all.