Easy With You Page 5

  Casey has Lila’s undivided attention, and it terrifies me to realize that she just…fits.

  Which is ridiculous because I hardly know her. One night in bed with her and a few conversations does not a life-long relationship make.

  And yet, I know she’s smart. So much smarter than me. She’s kind. She’s funny.

  And fuck me, she’s sexy as I don’t know what.

  And seeing her here, with my kid, she’s attentive and sweet.

  A man could fall in love with her.

  Where the hell did that come from?

  “I have a joke!” Casey announces.

  “Okay, shoot,” Lila says.

  “Why did the peach go out with the prune?”

  “Why?” Lila and I ask at the same time.

  “Because it couldn’t find a date!”

  Casey busts out laughing. “Get it?”

  “Yes,” I reply, chuckling, and catch Lila’s humor-filled gaze with my own. “You’re a funny girl.”

  “This was delicious,” Lila says as she lays her napkin on her empty plate. “You were right. Best pancakes ever.”

  “They’re pretty good,” I agree. “When I was a kid, my mom—”

  “I have to tell you about Masie!” Casey says, interrupting me.

  “Hey.” I give her the Dad Stink Eye. “I understand that you’re enjoying Lila’s company, but that’s no reason to be rude. Apologize please.”

  “I’m sorry for being rude,” Casey says. “Excuse me, Daddy?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I please tell Lila about Masie?”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket as Lila laughs. “Yes, go ahead and tell her.”

  Casey begins to chatter about her best friend as I answer. “What’s up?”

  “We have another one.” Jordan’s voice is clipped, and I can hear road noise as she drives. “I’m on my way to the scene now.”

  “On my way.” I motion for the waitress and pay the bill without looking at it. “We have to go, girls.”

  “What’s wrong?” Lila asks. I hold her gaze and shake my head quickly. I won’t discuss the details of my job around my daughter. She knows that I investigate murders, that I catch the bad guys, but that’s it. I see things that no ten-year-old should ever be privy to.

  “I have to drop you home, then take Casey to my brother’s and get to work.”

  “I thought you had today off,” Casey says with a sigh. “Did someone die?”

  “Yes, baby.” I kiss her head as we walk to the car. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to make the extra trip. You can leave Casey with me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Really?” Casey says excitedly. “Oh, that would be so cool.”

  “I’m sure,” Lila says with a smile, but her eyes are worried as she lays her hand on my arm. “Is it what I think it is?”

  “I’m not sure,” I lie. I don’t want to tell her anything until I see the scene and find out exactly what’s going on. “Could be.”

  Lila simply nods and sits back in the seat with a sigh, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. I take one of her hands in mine and kiss her knuckles.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  She nods and I glance in the rearview at my daughter, who is watching us carefully with a wide grin on her perfect face. She gives me a thumbs-up and winks, as though she’s my buddy, and I can’t help but laugh.

  God save me from ten-year-old matchmakers.

  * * * *

  I approach the scene, a small apartment on the edge of Tulane University campus. There is yellow DO NOT CROSS tape everywhere. Men in uniform are directing people away from the building. Girls are crying, sitting on the curb.

  Jordan rushes over to me.

  “Have you gone in?” I ask as we walk briskly to the apartment where the vic was killed.

  “No, I was waiting for you.”

  We’re gloving up as we approach the door. No one is inside. “Who secured the scene?”

  “I did, sir.” A young uniformed officer is standing near the open doorway. He swallows hard as I approach. His nametag reads Tanner.

  “Did anyone disturb the scene, Tanner?”

  “I don’t think so, sir. The victim’s friend called it in when she arrived to take Ms. Roberts to coffee. They had a date.”

  “Did she touch anything?”

  “She denied touching anything. She walked in, saw the vic, and called 911. She was standing here when we arrived. I made a visual confirmation that the victim was deceased, sealed the door, and called it in.”

  “Good job.” I nod, break the seal of the yellow tape on the door, and walk inside, Jordan right behind me. She has her camera out, already taking photos of the tiny apartment.

  “Do we know if she lived alone?”

  “The friend confirmed that she lived alone,” Tanner says from the doorway. He’s young, but he’s smart and respectful.

  He has potential.

  “Where is the vic?”

  “In the bedroom.” Tanner swallows hard. “It’s pretty gruesome, sir.”

  Jordan and I look at each other and walk to the bedroom.

  “Sonofabitch,” Jordan whispers as we take in the scene before us. There is blood spatter everywhere—the walls, the floor, the furniture. Even the ceiling.

  The victim, Cheyenne Roberts, is lying on the bed facedown. I remember her from last night when she left the library. A pretty young blonde. Happy. Carefree.

  So fucking young.

  I doubt her own parents would recognize her now. Her face has been torn off. Her fingers cut off at the knuckles.

  And her intestines are strung from one side of the room to the other.

  Jesus Christ, what the ever-loving fuck? Why didn’t I shut that damn group down? Or escort all of the girls home myself?

  “Oh my God, Asher.”

  “Take photos, Jordan.”

  She swallows hard, then pulls herself together and begins to systematically work the scene with me, taking photos, sweeping for any clues. There’s nothing I can see. Nothing but blood and tissue and absolute horror.

  Except for the note, covered in blood. The handwriting is likely the victim’s, just like the previous three.

  Do you see what happens to know-it-all bitches, Lila? Bitches who think they’re better than everyone else? They get their fucking face ripped off. I hope you enjoy the last few days of your pitiful life because I’m about to end it.

  Jordan snaps photos of the note before I seal it up and pray there is a print on it.

  But there won’t be.

  This fucker is careful.

  “The ME just arrived,” Tanner calls from the living room. “Are you ready for him?”

  “Send him in,” I confirm. Pierce, the best Medical Examiner in Louisiana, steps into the room and swears ripely.

  “Poor girl,” he says with a sigh. “What the fuck, Asher?”

  “My sentiments exactly,” I reply. “Can you give me a TOD?”

  He nods and works his magic, testing her body temperature. “She’s been dead for roughly twelve hours.”

  “Not long after study group,” I murmur. “We’re done with her. I want a full sweep after you take the body. Prints, hair, everything. If there’s something here, I want it.”

  I march out of the apartment, rage boiling in me. “I’ll meet you at the office. I want those pictures printed right away so we can add them to the board. We’re missing something. We’re starting from the beginning.”

  Jordan nods and walks to her car as I walk to mine, climb in, and speed all the way back to the office. I need to look at my notes.

  He’s getting more violent. More angry.

  I’m stalking through to my office when my phone rings.

  “Captain, I’m walking into my office right now.”

  “I want a report, in my office, in an hour.”

  “You’ll have it.”

  I end the call and hold on to my temper by the skin of my te
eth as Jordan joins me, shutting the door behind her, the new crime scene photos in her hands, which she passes to me and I begin to add them to the murder board I have in the center of the room, covered in photos and notes on the previous victims.

  “She was twenty-one,” Jordan says as she reads the report on her iPad. “Sociology major. Decent grades. No boyfriend that we know of.”

  “Where is she from?”

  “Excuse me?”

  I turn to look at her. “Her hometown.”

  “Shreveport,” Jordan replies. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that we’re missing something. Maybe the connection is as simple as being from the same town.”

  “Asher, the connection is Lila.”

  I prop my hands on my hips and stare at the photos of four girls who shouldn’t be dead. My heart stills at Lila’s name.

  “Asher.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you going to be able to handle this? After everything you went through with your wife—”

  “My wife doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  But Jesus Christ, I can’t go through losing someone else to a maniac.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Are you saying I can’t do my fucking job?” I spin and glare at her. “I’m doing the job, Jordan.”

  “I’m not saying that. But it’s clear that you have feelings for Lila.”

  “Is it?”

  “Crystal.” She shakes her head and leans her hip on my desk. “She needs to be told about the notes.”

  “No.”

  “Asher, he named her specifically. He threatened her. She needs to know so she can protect herself.”

  “I’m protecting her.”

  “God, you’re stubborn. Telling her about the notes—”

  “Will only terrify her.”

  “It would terrify me,” she agrees. “But if I found out later that you’d withheld that information from me, I’d be mighty pissed off.”

  I sigh and rub the back of my neck. “You’re right. I don’t like it, but you’re right.”

  “If you weren’t in love with her, I wouldn’t have to talk you into telling her.”

  “I’m not in love with her.” I smirk and shake my head.

  “Right. That’s why you’re rubbing your heart right now.”

  I glance down, surprised to find that I am, indeed, rubbing my aching heart. The thought of anything happening to her sends a panic through me that I haven’t felt in four years.

  It’s terrifying.

  And she and my daughter are alone right now.

  “Get comfortable,” I say and pull my phone out of my pocket. “We’re going to be here a while. I want to go back to the very beginning and read every report, every note all over again while we wait for the ME and crime scene reports to come in.”

  “You okay?”

  “Just do the job, Jordan.”

  She nods as I dial Mike’s number. “Hey, man.”

  “Hey, I need you to do me a favor.”

  Chapter Five

  ~Lila~

  “I love peanut butter sandwiches,” Casey informs me as she nibbles on her sandwich, sans crust, with her little fingers propped up to keep her drying nails from getting messed up. “And this nail polish is so pretty!”

  “I love it too.” I finish my sandwich and sit back on the couch, watching the sweet girl as she eats delicately. “Thanks for letting me polish your nails.”

  “Are you kidding? This is great! Can we play in your makeup?”

  I have a moment of panic as I think of the expensive stash of makeup in my drawers, and then figure, why not? You only live once.

  “Sure. Let’s go.” I lead Casey into my bathroom and spread eye shadows, blush, liners, mascara, and lipstick on the countertop. Her pretty green eyes widen at my loot.

  “Wow,” she says reverently. “You don’t look like you wear that much makeup.”

  “That’s the secret.” I wink at her and study her coloring, wanting to choose just the right shades for her. “You don’t want to look like you wear a lot. You choose colors that accentuate what you already have.”

  “You’re smart.”

  I laugh and choose an eye shadow. “I’ve just been doing this for a really long time.”

  “Can I do you after you do me?”

  “I’m already wearing makeup.”

  “You could take it off,” she says.

  “True. Okay, I’ll take it off.” I grab my makeup remover and wipe off my eye makeup, then smile at Casey.

  “Awesome.” I boost her up onto the counter so she’s eye level with me, making it easier to work, and choose a brush.

  “Close your eyes.”

  She complies and sits still as I brush eye shadow on her eyes, add liner, mascara and blush. I don’t want her dad to show up and think that I’ve turned his daughter into a harlot.

  But playing with makeup is fun. Hell, I loved playing with it at her age. I still do.

  “So, you’re definitely a girlie girl,” I comment.

  “Yes. Do you have glitter?”

  I chuckle and reach for a bronzer with sparkles in it. “Glitter coming right up.”

  “Right on.” She offers me her fist to bump, and I comply with a laugh just as my phone pings with an incoming text.

  Asher: Thanks for helping me out. Not sure how long I’ll be here, so my brother Mike is going to stop by and get Casey. It’s okay to open the door to him.

  I just love how he’s now dictating who I can open the door to.

  “That’s your dad. Your uncle Mike is going to come get you.”

  “Already?” she asks with distress. “But we’re having a spa day!”

  My lips twitch. “You’re right. I’ll take care of it.”

  Can you give us at least an hour? We are having a spa day. And don’t get mad at me for putting makeup on her.

  “You’re really pretty,” Casey says as she watches me text. “Like, really pretty.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  No problem. Thank you for being so patient.

  There is no need to be patient with this adorable girl. She’s funny and smart and enjoys the same things I do. Why would I need to be patient with her?

  My pleasure. Really.

  I tuck my phone away and make the finishing touches on Casey’s makeup, and it occurs to me that for someone who doesn’t do kids, I’ve taken quite a shine to this sweet girl.

  And what’s not to love? She’s smart and respectful and funny. Asher has done an amazing job with her.

  They’re both special. How could any woman have left them?

  “Okay, you can look now.”

  “Oh!” she exclaims when she turns around. “I’m so pretty!”

  “Yes you are.”

  “I haven’t had this much fun since my mom died.”

  What?

  I school my features, trying not to let her see that she’s shocked the hell out of me. Her mom died?

  She chooses some colors and goes to work on my face.

  “I’m sorry that your mom passed away, sweetie.”

  “Yeah, it was a long time ago.” I cringe when she chooses the blue eye shadow and begins brushing it on. She doesn’t talk about her mom anymore, and I decide not to press her, but I do need to talk to Asher. How horrible for both of them.

  When Casey is finishing up with me, the doorbell rings.

  “That must be your uncle.”

  “Oh man,” she whines and hops down from the counter. “Can’t I just stay with you?”

  “Your dad wants you to go hang out with your uncle.”

  I open the door to find a man that looks almost exactly like Asher in my doorway, with a beautiful woman at his side.

  “Hi. I’m Mike.”

  “Lila.” I shake his hand and invite them in.

  “This is my wife, Fran.”

  “Why can’t I stay with Lila?” Casey whines. “We are having a girls’ day.
”

  “Your daddy doesn’t know how long he’s going to be at work today,” Fran says with a smile. “You look beautiful.” She glances up at me. “I think Casey got the better end of this deal.”

  “She did good,” I reply with a laugh. “Here, let’s send a selfie to your dad.”

  I pull my phone out of my pocket, snap a photo of the two of us, and text it to Asher.

  “We’re going to go pack your bag, munchkin. You’re gonna stay with us tonight,” Fran says.

  “Sleepover!” Casey exclaims. “You should come too, Lila!”

  “I have work,” I reply. “But maybe I’ll see you again soon.”

  “Thanks for keeping her,” Mike says with a grin. “Asher said he’ll come over here when he’s done. Lock your door.” His face sobers and he pins me in a I’m an authority figure and you’ll do what I say look.

  “Let me guess, you’re a cop too?”

  “Guilty.”

  “I will lock the door. I will not let anyone in unless they have the password and know the secret handshake.”

  “You’re a smart ass,” Fran says with a smile. “I like you.”

  * * * *

  I can’t run. Why can’t I run? I can hear someone coming for me, and it’s dark, and I have to run, but my feet won’t move. Heavy breathing is getting closer. I’m sweating, and trying to scream, but no sound comes out. Suddenly, it occurs to me that it’s a dream. Wake up!

  Banging on my front door finally rips me from the nightmare. I sit up, my heart racing, eyes searching the room, and realize I must have fallen asleep on the couch.

  “Lila!” More banging. I check my phone to find three missed texts and a missed call, all from Asher.

  I pull the door open and am immediately tugged against him, his arms wrapped tightly around me and his face buried in my neck. He walks us inside and kicks the door closed, all without loosening his grip.

  “Hey,” I croon and hold on just as tight. He needs this. I can feel it. “Asher, are you okay?”

  “I just need a minute.” He takes a deep breath, and suddenly I’m in his arms and he’s carrying me to the couch. He sits, with me in his lap, and continues to hold on tight.

  “You’re kind of scaring me,” I whisper. My fingers brush through the soft, thick hair at the back of his head soothingly.