Page 27 of High Density

I quickly get to my feet when Sloane tries to bend down to hand me my coffee.

“Thanks. How’s that little one?” I ask, pointing at her substantial baby bump.

“A gymnast,” she shares, wincing. “And real estate is getting sparse in here. Makes for restless nights.”

I hadn’t noticed until now how tired she looks. Dark circles curve under her blue, red-rimmed eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, not sure what else to say.

“Don’t be.” She smiles, patting her belly. “We’re excited. One more month to go. And I catch up in the afternoons with naps, although I’ll be working for a bit today.”

“You’re still working?”

Sloane is a deputy with the Lincoln County Sheriff’s Department.

“I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” she clarifies. “But lying in bed, doing nothing, is driving me insane, so I check in with the office and help out if I can. But after you guys found Maggie Aldridge, it’s been all-hands-on-deck.”

Immediately an image of the woman’s sprawled body flashes in my mind. I shake to dislodge it.

“Any developments on that?”

“Yeah.” Her face turns serious. “Junior just called twenty minutes ago. They found another one.”

As I’m headingout to Janey’s fifteen minutes later, I’m trying to visualize the barista at Bean There, a coffee shop in town I sometimes pop into.

According to Sloane, she was the victim found at the Cabinet View Golf Club this morning. A groundskeeper discovered herbody in the trees by the water feature on the third hole. Jennifer Wilson was found partially stripped, likely raped, and even though cause of death looked to be blunt force trauma in this case, the similarities suggest this is the same perp. Apparently, the women even looked alike.

As I come up to the turnoff to the veterinary clinic, I notice a billboard for the golf club up ahead. It’s only a couple of miles up the road.

The driveway to Janey’s place curves through a strip of trees shielding it from the road, but then it opens up with the Big Cherry Creek on the south side of the property and woods and mountains to the west. It’s a nice piece of land, a little closer to town than I am and in a more populated area, but still fairly private.

Janey is just stepping out of her door with Ginger on a leash when I pull up in front of her house. The moment she sees me, a smile spreads on her face. That’s a pretty damn good welcome, if you ask me.

“You don’t mess about, do you?” she states as I get out of the truck.

I notice her hair is haphazardly piled on top of her head, held in place with what looks like a pair of chopsticks, and she’s wearing a pair of striped, men’s pajama bottoms. When I get closer, I see sleep creases from her pillow still imprinted on her cheek.

“I’m sorry if I’m early,” I apologize, feeling guilty.

Nine thirty seemed like a decent time to show up, but in hindsight, I should probably have checked. For all I know, she was trying to catch up on sleep she missed during the week, or maybe she got called out after I left last night.

“No, don’t apologize.” She waves me off. “I couldn’t get to sleep. I ended up reading until the wee hours of the morning when I finally dozed off. Ginger woke me up in desperation a fewminutes ago, so it all works out. I just need to hop in the shower real quick, but go ahead and make yourself a coffee.”

Great. Her mention of a shower immediately calls up an image of Janey, water sluicing down her naked body, and my body’s response is instantaneous.

It doesn’t help when she turns to head back inside and I catch the enticing jiggle of her ass in those threadbare pants. That good morning kiss I’d planned to lay on her is going to have to wait until I can get my body back under control.

I’m determined to take things slow to show her I’m not in this for a quick lay.

Butdamn, it’s getting hard. No pun intended.

Janey

“You must be Doc Richards.”

I’m not sure what I expected a former bull rider to look like, but it sure wasn’t this well-dressed silver fox. This man clearly doesn’t care he’s standing ankle-deep in mud, with rain teeming down. Wishing I’d grabbed my slicker on the way out, I tug my ball cap low over my eyes and get out of the truck.

“Phil Jericho? Nice to meet you,” I lie, shaking his hand.

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