Page 6 of Sexy Killer

"I didn't take her anywhere she didn't want to go. But I'm not here to rehash our history, old man. Is there anything you can tell me about the robbers or why they targeted your store?"

He shrugs. "How am I supposed to know? I got hit in the back of the head while I was closing up, waiting for Chelsea. Oh shit, where is she?"

"Chelsea's okay, Mr. Emerson. She walked in on it, but the robbers managed to knock her out before she could do too much damage to them. She left the hospital last night. Why don't you tell me about changing the name of the shop?" I ask him.

"I've been fighting off debt collectors and finally settled a few. I wanted a fresh start." He sighs and avoids my gaze as if he's afraid someone is listening to our conversation. "Francine is a family name."

Whose family name? I wonder.

A nurse interrupts us. "I need to take Mr. Emerson down for a CT scan. Can we finish this later, Detective?"

I nod and move out of the way for the doctor and nurse to work on Chelsea's father. He glares at me as if I'm still the teenage boydesperate for his daughter's attention. I'm not desperate, and I don't have to beg for her attention. Chelsea is mine, and I am hers whenever we choose because we've done things together that not even my brothers on the force will understand.

It's because of this I'm going to look the other way for what's coming. But, I can't do that if Chelsea blatantly breaks the law. I'll have to put down my badge for her if it comes to that. Hopefully, she's more careful than we were in our younger days.

The hospital is quieter than the ideas racing through my mind. The quiet doesn't last long as I head outside, where an ambulance screeches to a halt at the curb.

A squad car pulls up behind it, with two homicide detectives scrambling out of it. The body coming out of the ambulance has EMS workers doing everything they can to revive the patient. It's a bloody mess.

I grab one of the detectives as the EMS workers rush the patient inside. "What's going on there? Who is that?"

The detective stares at the victim, disappearing deeper into the hospital as he speaks. "That would be Craig Kushner, local smash and grab, and a rap sheet longer than a giraffe’s cock."

"Jesus. What the hell happened?" I ask with a laugh.

He pulls out a cigarette. "The call came in about an hour ago. Someone found him with a diamond carved into his chest. He was clutching a velvet satchel with one diamond inside it by the time we got to him."

"I had a robbery and assault last night at a jewelry store. It happened at Francine's on Main Street. Did you see anything that might link this guy to that robbery?"

He nods. "It's all going back with forensics, but the satchel had the letters F and J on it."

"Was there anything else at the scene?"

"Besides flaps of this guy's skin?" The detective scoffs. "Someone took their time with him. They left him alive long enough to be found. I doubt he'll make it. There was some cash, but it's not like your jewelry store owner marks their bills, right?"

"I doubt it. If you give me your case number, I'll give you mine. We can look at the forensics and see if the cases are linked. Whoever he did the job with probably stabbed him in the back while splitting the bounty."

The detective chuckles to himself. "Stabbed in the back, the front, and down the sides. Whoever did this was pissed at him, but that list is long. He typically runs with a few guys out of Newark. The last guy we know of is Derek Hammond. He also goes by Hammer. I'll send his sheet to you. You can run down their other known acquaintances. But if you get a hit on someone who did this?—"

I understand what he's saying perfectly as I tell him, "Homicide trumps robbery. Run me the guy's prints so I can check it against my case. Anyone who comes back that looks good for this, I'll send him your way."

"Will do." The detective blows out a puff of smoke before flicking the cigarette away. He heads inside, where his partner looks dismal, shaking his head. It tells me everything I need to know. One of my suspects is dead, and I'm sure the other is on the chopping block. I have to get totheirsuspect before they do.

Cars move aside with a whir of my siren as I speed down the street. There's only one destination I have in mind. I don't wantto think the worst of her, but Chelsea is ruthless with a knife. She uses a blade like it's a piece of her hand.

When I pull up to the Emerson house, it still looks the same as the last time I was here. Its lawn is always cut to precision. The slate stone path leads to a dark blue home with white trim. I don't bother knocking on the front door. Instead, I walk around the back of the house to see what I already know is true.

The shed in the back of the house holds a workshop her father likes to use. An assortment of tools for metalwork and carving rare gemstones are inside. There's a padlock across the doors that I lift and let fall. An echo of the metal lock clanging against the latch rings out louder than I anticipated. It's like an alarm to anyone inside the house.

"You need a warrant to get inside there, Detective," Chelsea says as she walks up behind me.

"Where have you been, Chelsea?" I ask her.

My eyes move over her entire body for a different reason than etching every sensuous curve into my memory.

"I've been gathering information to help you solve your case." The wicked grin on her face confirms what I know she's capable of.

"Does that include skinning someone alive? Carving them up like a Thanksgiving turkey?"

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