Page 74 of Stutter

“You exquisitely sweet little monster, let me repeat myself. If I’mevertoo gentle or stern or serious with you it’s because I treasure you entirely too much, and with everything you have ever faced, you deserve to be treated like I love you becauseI do.I am irrevocably fucked for you. I’m sure I’ve heard the word ‘demented' thrown around here and it’s because I am. For you. So when you squeeze my cock with your delicious pussy so perfectly, of course I become deranged for the only woman I’ve ever loved. The rest of the world can fuck off entirely.” I conclude and she giggles. The sound is too enchanting. It calms me and relaxesmy soul; it makes my chest ache. I press my lips to hers, the door to my office opens, footsteps on the hardwood alert me it’s both Jonas and Maverick entering.

“Ohhhh… is this the kind oftherapyyou do here, Doctor Le Douche?”

I don’t bother looking away from my sweet blackbird, just throw Jonas the finger and he laughs, plopping down on the couch. “If you ever tell me that me not fucking your throat is causing you grief, then yes,Pup, I’ll fuck your throat,” I growl.

“Christ.” Maverick laughs. “That’swhy you’ve both been moody? You wouldn’t fuck her throat?”

“We came full circle-“

“I bet you did.” Jonas interrupts and I finally turn to glare at him. “I like Pup, by the way. Suits me just fine, doesn’t it,Little Bird?”

Raven throws her head back and laughs, the sound again making my dick jump beneath her beautifully sculpted ass and I clutch her tighter, molding her body to fit mine, uncaring if her jagged pieces don’t fit me because mine fit hers. I mean what I said earlier. She is utterly exquisite and so utterly mine.

Are there women out there with less trauma that don’t stutter when they speak and could tell me immediately when something is bothering them instead of taking weeks to ruminate over it and being forced to tell me? Yes.

Are there women out there more beautiful with less mental, emotional and physical scars? Probably.

Although I highly doubt it.

Besides, I want the one woman with the scars I’ve watched heal in a humble resilience so strong and silent it’s shaking earths and leaving a blood-soaked path in her wake.

I possibly need therapy myself, but Ilovewhat I feel for her. I choke on the air she breathes, inhale at her exhale and soakmercilesslyin the depravity she makes me feel. Now that I’ve had her and know these maddening emotions exist, and have felt them myself, why would I settle for anything less?

“So, anything you want to share with the class, baby?” Jonas interrupts my thoughts of Raven and I’m a little teed he has such audacity.

She gives a little shrug, unwilling to share, and I’m fine with that. I don’t mind keeping her secrets. I’ve kept them for years. Inky pieces of her soul I’ll never give back to her because I’ve kept them for myself.

“Jonas?” I ask. “Anything you’d like to share?”

So very nonchalantly he scoots further down the suede couch and frowns, laying his hands on his stomach and interlocking his fingers. “I’m an open book. I don’t have anything to hide.”

I nod and turn to Maverick, who has his eyes on our girl and he too, settles deeper into the far end of the couch away from Jonas and looks wildly uncomfortable even though I made sure the oversized sofa would be to Raven’s liking – which means ultra comfort. “Harrington?”

“You’re telling me I still have a free-standing session?”

I grin inwardly but keep my features steady. “Up to an hour. Then it’s four hundred and seventy-five a session. And no, your insurance doesn’t cover me.”

He rolls those peridot eyes and sighs. “Alright then. But I’m not going to talk about my mother if that’s what you’re going for.”

“We can talk about anything you want.” I assure him, wishing I had my Maverick notebook.

He hums in contemplation then inhales sharply, looking at the ground. “What Tasha wrote about the Ackles Farm wasn’t all true. I read her memoir, and yes, she was my partner on this hunt, but I was on the hunt for this sicko foryears. I was finishing up my degree in psychology when twin girls from UMass disappeared without a trace. Mandy and Jennifer. Regular girls. Beautiful. Barely legal freshmen.” He grimaces. “They were a buddy of mine’s little sister. Good kids. I helped him put up so many Missing Posters everywhere on campus with him. You couldn’t spit in one direction without landing on one. They’d goneon a road trip during Spring break, going home to see their parents in Washington.

“They’d stopped for gas in Idaho… only there for maybe twenty-three minutes. The gas station showed their rental car leaving, the taillights blinked red, signal light turned on to go left, and that’s the last known footage of them… their car was found with everything inside on the side of the road. Phones, wallets, just the passenger side door open.

“I’d watched true crime documentaries, but this was the closest I had come to anything like this ever. It was… fascinating. Not the fact that they went missing it’showthey went missing. I wanted to solve this. Unfortunately, with podcasts on the rise, theories went from strange alien abduction to they simply didn’t want to be found and disappeared on their own. But the car was on a long stretch of highway that was somewhat lit, I mean, someone must have seensomething. Right?”

He doesn’t wait for us to answer before continuing.

“Jerry and I graduated, he went home to Washington to be closer to his family so that in case anything came up, he wouldn’t have to fly out. He could just be there for them. I mean, after so long you can really only expect… anyway. I’d already decided to use my degree to get into the FBI and after twenty weeks of rigorous training and tests, I was simply a rookie trying to find my way around all these older people that had been in law enforcement for so long that I felt a little lost. I would sit in the back of a room during briefing, stay after everyone left home and always looked over the victim board. Always looking over details someone could have missed. I kept a notebook with me always in case someone said something during interviews that didn’t sit well with me.

“After my first year there, I helped catch I three serial killers and was able to make one admit to their crimes during interrogations. But Mandy and Jen’s case was always in the back of my mind. Every time someone else went missing in the same area, or close to it, or even along that same stretch of highway, I paid attention. I wrote it down. Even when the notebook was yellowed and almost tattered, and Jerry had moved on with hislife and even married and had children, I kept it in my briefcase just in case theirs got a matching MO or even a tip to their hotline, I would be ready to bring it up to my team.

“When I finally got the balls to bring it up to my boss, he said there wasn’t enough evidence to group them together. Plus, the girls going missing in that area were getting…younger. There were a few older women, mostly in their early twenties, but the girls…”

He looks pained, like he swallowed something sour, and it settled wrong in his stomach.

“A mother and child went missing… we got the call, and I had my briefcase ready. Over twenty missing women and girls, same MO. Only the car was found. Except finally, finally it seemed one thing had changed. A little girl’s shoe was left behind and there was a drop of blood. One. Drop.”

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