“They’re alive when he stitches them?”
Chief Thomson nodded. “Unfortunately, but there was one small difference with Susan. The killer walked right in and came at her from behind where she stood at the kitchen sink.”
Randy shrugged. “The door was open so he didn’t need to knock?”
“Becca left her house a short time before the killer showed up. Susan asked her to lock the door behind her.”
Randy winced. “Oh, crap.”
“On top of that, Becca promised her sister, Darla, on her deathbed to watch over Susan. So you can well imagine just how our detective is feeling right now. She needs someone to keep her grounded.”
“Okay, when do we start?”
“The sooner, the better.”
Chapter Five
Becca studied the snapshots strewn across her kitchen table. A shudder passed across her lips, and she wiped her eyes on her shirtsleeve. Get your shit together, woman.
She held her chin up and took a deep, cleansing breath before casting her gaze on the haunting stares of The Florist’s victims.
Susan’s murder and her return to the force all seemed so surreal. She’d even been assigned a partner...something she swore she’d never have again. Chief left her no option—agree to work with Randy or not work the case.
This is nothing like having Jack as a partner. I have no emotional connection to ‘Randy’, outside of this case. Jack was family, my family.
No matter how many times she looked at the photos, she couldn’t come up with a common thread. They ranged in age from twenty-seven to sixty, all had different professions—a school teacher, a mechanic, flight attendant, and Susan, a retired nurse. A sexual motive was highly unlikely given the fact there were three women and one man and all remained fully dressed.
Becca startled, her coffee sloshed up the sides of her cup and splashed the front of her shirt. The rumble of a motorcycle pulling in her driveway stole her attention.
“Shit. Who can that be?” She rushed out her back door to find a tall guy climbing off a sweet-looking Road Glide. If he’s my new partner, maybe having one won’t be so bad after all.
He released his shoulder-length brown hair from the confines of a ponytail and removed his sunglasses. “You must be Becca. I’m Randy. I believe you’re expecting me?” He offered his hand and narrowed his gaze on her.
Oh God, it can’t be him. She feigned interest in his bike, purposely avoiding contact. “Of course, I wasn’t expecting you on a motorcycle.”
He shrugged and hung his helmet from the handlebars. “Chief Thomson figured you’d be much more comfortable riding. Besides, it’s a good cover, don’t you think?” His slow smile and arched brow made her wince.
Damn, he recognizes me. Becca quickly turned and headed for the house, desperately needing to put some distance between them. “Come in and we’ll go over the case.”
Randy chuckled lightly. “Nice to see you again, too.”
She flinched, very aware his comment warranted a response. I have to work with him or I’m off the case. How the hell am I going to pull this off?
Randy closed the door behind him.
“Oh!” Her hand flew to her chest.
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
Becca faced the counter. “Coffee?”
“Black, please.” A chair scraped the floor and then creaked under his weight.
She briefly closed her eyes before setting a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. Her breath hitched as he gently touched her arm.
“Red.”
“You must have me confused with someone else.” She pulled away and sat at the other side of the table. “Here are the crime scene photos.”
“I know you recognize me, Red.”
Becca looked at him. “Listen, I need to find this killer, and in order for me to do so, I have to work with a partner. I can’t focus on this case if I’m distracted by you.”
“So what you’re saying is that you want me to forget that night ever happened? I don’t know if I can do that, especially since you’ve haunted my dreams ever since.”
Becca cursed the heat rushing to her face. “Okay, maybe we can’t put it completely out of our minds, but can we please try to keep our focus on solving this case?”
“If that’s what you want I’ll try, Red.”
His sexy smirk set her pulse racing. “And stop calling me Red. I have a name.”
The sexual tension between them made it very hard for her to focus, but they managed to go over the case. Randy agreed with her that the victims had nothing in common, and while the killer’s methods were consistent, there were two variations in each case: the type of flower and the object stuffed in their mouths.
“I think our first step is to track down the source of the flowers. They’re not something your average florist shop keeps in stock. In fact, a couple of them have to be special ordered.”
He stroked his jaw. “Or he grows them himself.”
Becca nodded. “Yes, that’s a definite possibility. We should check out stores in the area first.”
“Sure, we’ll tell them we’re planning our wedding.”
His lopsided grin brought a smile to her lips. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’ll meet you at the bikes.”
Randy hung onto the railing and expelled a long breath. How am I going to be her partner when all I want to do is replay the incredible night we shared so long ago?
She locked her back door and without giving it a second thought, he took her in his arms and captured her mouth in a kiss.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Anger flashed in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Red. I had to get that out of the way if I have a hope in hell of working with you on this case.”
“It cannot happen again. Do I make myself clear?” Becca stormed off, stomping down the steps and jogging to her bike.
Randy ran a thumb over his lips and smiled. For one brief moment before pulling away, she kissed him back.
Normally he was the decision maker, but it seemed his new partner fully intended on taking the lead. Fine by me. He was thoroughly enjoying the view of her oh-so-sweet ass, straddling a mighty fine turquoise and cream Harley. Her obvious comfort in the saddle told of a seasoned rider.
Under any other circumstances, blue skies and the sun’s warm rays were an open invitation to ride. Unfortunately, with a guy like The Florist on the loose, there wouldn’t be any afternoon runs to the water until they found him.
Randy followed Becca into the parking area out front of Jack’s Flowers. After parking and walking across the parking lot to the front door, no words were exchanged. The jingle of a bell announced their arrival. An overwhelming wave of floral ambrosia caused him to sneeze. He’d never seen so many flowers in one place. Potted plants, decorative foliage, and freshly cut arrangements filled the small shop on either side of a narrow path to the counter.
“Good morning, how can I help you?” A silver-haired man, his shoulders slightly hunched, stood behind a wooden counter.
Becca offered her hand. “Hi there. My name is Becca, and this is my...” She looked in his direction. “Fiancé, Randy.”
He stifled a laugh at her obvious discomfort. “We’re hoping you can help us. We’re looking for very specific flowers for our big day.”
The store-owner stroked his stubbly chin. “Well, I’ll sure try. What kind of flowers are we talking about?”
From her inside pocket she took a folder paper and smoothed it out on the counter. “White orchids.”