Kane helped Sophie to clean herself then he helped her to dress. In between he gave her hugs, water and food. By the time he cleaned the table with the spray bottle filled with a solution for that purpose and a wad of paper towels she was no longer weeping or even upset. She wasn’t calm either; she wasn’t certain what she felt. Physically she was sore: her p**sy gave off a slight burning ache and her ass did as well but overriding those things were the sheer bliss that made her feel weak in the knees and drowsy.
She was surprised at how few people were left in the club. A quick glance down at her watch showed her why; it was nearly four in the morning. She let Kane lead her outside but she stopped him when he lifted a hand to hail a cab.
“I drove,” she pointed to her battered old car. “I don’t know why I don’t get rid of it. I was lucky as hell to get a parking space here and I’m probably never going to find one near my place ever again.”
“Do you mind if I drive you home?’
She shook her head and went to the passenger door. He opened it for her, she had never had anyone open a door before and she stood in the way, not sure what he was doing and then she backed up, almost falling over the curb while trying to give him room. His hand on the small of her back made her feel warm and comforted and when he pulled up in front of a small diner and asked if she were hungry she said yes automatically and without hesitation.
The diner smelled of onions and ground beef sizzling on a super- heated grill. Very few people sat in the hard chairs or crowded into the booths, the bright lights showed very clearly the worn floors and the cracking Formica.
“This place has been here since the fifties and I doubt if they have ever remodeled it.” Kane said as they slid into a cold booth. His hands plucked greasy menus from behind a set of salt and pepper shakers and handed her one, “On the other side of that the food is just what you come to diner for: greasy, hot, fast and filling. Please tell me you’re not a model in the making who thinks a sourdough muffin and a half of a grapefruit is dinner.”
“I’m not a model. People keep asking me that.”
“You could be. So what did you bring you to the big city?”
“I wanted a new life.” Sophie kept her eyes down when she answered but he could hear the truth in her voice.
He ordered two coffees and then asked if she minded if he ordered breakfast, she said no and he smiled inwardly, pleased at the small acquiescence. He ordered them French toast, home fries and eggs over easy.
They sat in uneasy silence for a few minutes, “I guess this is a little awkward,” Kane said finally.
Sophie laughed with relief. “It is. I mean, I never let anyone…well you know.”
“I do. And I thank you for trusting me.”
“Thank you,” she replied softly.
The food came, the eggs were light and done perfectly, the home fries were seasoned and crisp, and the French toast was fluffy and coated with cinnamon and powdered sugar, topped with rich clotted cream and strawberries and finished off with a drizzle of caramel.
Kane watched her eat; enjoying the obvious pleasure she took in her food. Her tongue licked out at her bottom lip from time to time, catching some stray crumb or sweet morsel. Outside a false dawn showed its pearly face against the steamy windows.
“Did you ever find out if the…if I saw a…”
“Yes, you saw the Creeper. Or a copycat, we aren’t sure which yet.”
“It’s pretty awful to think there’s one killer, much less two.’
“We’re going to get him.” He felt the need to reassure her, even if he wasn’t so certain he was speaking the truth.
“Susan… a friend of mine, she used to watch a lot of detective and crime shows.”
“Yeah I hate those shows. They sort of convinced people cops could solve cases and save victims of kidnapping and serial killers all in an hour. The truth is most of the equipment that they use on those shows is either experimental or so expensive no one department can afford it and everyone’s cases wait in line until they get done so half the time you may have to wait months or even years to get a result.”
“Oh. Susan would have hated to hear that.”
He heard the disappointment in her voice. “Well we won’t tell her, will we?”
Her face instantly closed. He saw that happen and his instincts told him that there was something there, something painful. She changed the subject abruptly. “Are you from here?”
“No, upstate in Austerlitz. I always loved the city though.”
She stared at him, “Austerlitz, the town where Edna St. Vincent Millay lived?’
“That’s the one. Are you a fan?”
“I walked by Bedford Street,” her face held a sheepish expression. “I always wanted to see Steepletop though. Is it true all of her things are still there, like the house is waiting for her to come back?”
“Yes, it’s true. We could drive up sometime, I couldn’t say we will go tomorrow because tomorrow, well today now, the Feds are coming in to help with the case and I’m not sure when my next day off will be.”
“We could take my car,” she offered.
Kane looked at her glowing eyes and realized that he wanted to kiss her long and slow. His eyes shifted to the clock over the counter and he groaned inwardly, time had gotten away from him. “That’s a deal. In the meantime let’s get you home.”
He walked her to her door and when she asked how he would get home he shrugged and said he would cab it. He was not at all tired, the adrenaline rush he had gotten from the scene they had shared had jazzed him up and he knew he would not sleep even if he did lie down. She waited, hoping he would kiss her but all he said was, “Get inside and sleep well,” before stepping back from her.
She closed the door, locked it and put her back against it. Her mind was whirling with the night’s events and when Sassy, woken up and grumpy, staggered out of the bedroom dragging her owner’s robe with her she took that as a divine hint to go to bed.
She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.
***
Kane sat at his desk, staring at the report he had taken the night he had met Sophie, and he swore softly. She had given him a false name and he had never thought to check her ID. She had used the name Nancy Boyd, Edna St. Vincent Millay’s pseudonym, and given an address he knew was not hers. He wondered why.
He picked up his cell phone and called the club, knowing that the man who owned it and who sat at the desk would still be awake. After a long and very roundabout and discreet conversation he got her real name and other information.
He sat there staring at the computer with angry eyes after he ran a check on that name. Susan, the woman whose name she had mentioned and whose ID she had used at the club, was dead. She had committed suicide.
He stared at her mugshots, in some she was blonde, in others she wore heavy black wigs or red ones. She looked fresh faced, if angry and lost, in the first few, after that she wore the same resigned and broken expression he had seen on dozens of desperate addicts over the years.
Who was Sophie? That question nagged at him, who was she and why did she feel the need to lie about who she was? What was she hiding?
A small newspaper article on Susan caught his eye, it mentioned a girl who had been in foster with her, a young woman named Sophie but before he could research that further Forrester strolled in.
The fact that the man was actually in the office at eight in the morning was shocking; that he had shaved and ironed his clothes was equally unusual. Kane felt the contempt that always marked his feelings toward the other officer creeping in as Forrester tossed himself into his chair and asked, “What’re you working on, you got a lead?”
“No, different case. I thought I would try to back off and get some fresh perspective on the Creeper that way.” Kane lied easily.
“Huh,” Forrester said and got up, wandering off to get some of the vile coffee that was always scorching the bottom of the Silex pot.
“I hate that guy,” another officer said, “I heard he was good cop until his wife ran off but I never knew him then.”
“Forrester had a wife?” Kane asked.
“Yeah, she was a beauty too, from what I hear. I guess she got tired of being a cop’s wife or something.”
“Most women get tired of being a cop’s wife,” Kane said in a neutral voice.
There was a stir at the door and he looked up. A woman with blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and trim figure that was visible under the conservative suit she wore walked side by side with a man whose tired face and rumpled suit could not make him seem any less impressive. He was John Hamm, one of the FBI’s best profilers. The FBI had sent in the big guns.
The Captain came out of his office, a huge grin on his face, a grin that could not disguise the fact that he wasn’t at all happy to see the two people walking into his precinct.
Kane stood up and waited his turn to be introduced saying hello and good to see you again to John, and meaning it. The woman stood silent and he turned to her, pasting a smile on his face.
“Hello Janelle.”
“Hello Kane.”
Silence spun out for a long second and he wondered if everyone in the place was busy figuring out that the FBI had sent his ex in to work with him on a case that was rapidly spiraling out of control.
“I’m Forrester,” the man almost knocked Kane over getting to Janelle. His hand pumped hers several times, and he held it a little too long. “Welcome to the team.”
Kane winced and turned away, clicking the window and browser on his laptop closed to avoid having to say anything else.
***
Sophie woke up slowly. Her body ached, but pleasantly so, and she stretched hard. Sassy whined at her and she chuckled, reaching out to scratch her under her chin.
“Well good morning darling, how was your night?”
Sassy responded with a wounded little howl that let her owner know in no uncertain terms she was feeling left out and that she had to go out as well. Sophie got out of bed and tossed on a pair of jeans, a tee shirt and sneakers. The dress she had worn to the club lay over the small chair near the foot of her bed and she paused, her eyes locked onto it while memories of the night before flooded in. Shame brushed her, how could she have done those things? Overriding that feeling was lust. The urge to put her hands on her p**sy, to cup it and squeeze the tender flesh made heat flame into her cheeks and she grabbed the leash, determined to out distance that thought.
Out on the sidewalk Sassy rushed to a tiny section of the curb and took care of her needs. Sophie walked her for a few minutes, knowing the little canine enjoyed the early morning smells and sniffing the other dogs that were being trotted along the cold gray sidewalks.
She wasn’t paying attention to where she was walking, she was thinking about the night before, the feeling of Kane’s hard member stretching her open, the sensation of total surrender that had come over her when he had commanded her to roll over, and she had.
Sophie had never felt connected to anyone other than Susan, had never been able to trust anyone other than the person who had shared so much of the same history. She was bewildered by her trust in Kane, but she was also grateful for it. On the other side of that she had never known the intensity of passion either and the longing for more of what he had given her was bewildering, and exciting too, she admitted as she strolled.