"What can I do for you, Sharon?" McCue smiled warmly.
From the minute she became a deputy, the stocky detective had treated her like everyone else. Even though he came off as being gruff and impatient, he didn't fool her; he was nothing but a big old softie with a passion for justice. He'd work tirelessly investigating a case, his prime goal to make sure the bad guy was punished and the victim was vindicated. Sharon admired him for it. Over the five years she'd been on the force, Earl had taken her under his wing and looked out for her, even calling out Sergeant Stichler for the way he spoke to her in his presence. From the glares her supervisor threw at Earl, she suspected he wasn't too fond of the detective.
"I was wondering if CSI found any evidence at the scene of this rape. I'm positive this is the work of our peeping perv. Can you tell me anything?"
He chuckled. "You know I can't, but I will because I know you'll keep it right here at my desk. This time, our sick bastard wasn't so perfect-he left his semen, and a footprint outside the victim's window. We have the rain to thank for that one. If the ground hadn't been so soft that wouldn't have happened. Now we just need a damn suspect to match DNA and the footprint."
"No leads?"
He chomped down on his unlit cigar. "Nope."
"It's amazing how none of the neighbors have seen anything."
"I know. If we could only get something. We don't even know if he lives in the area or drives to it. He seems to favor the same area. We'll get something. I feel it. He's getting sloppy. It always happens that way. A perp who doesn't get caught right away becomes a cocky sonofabitch thinking he's invincible, and that's when I get him."
"I hope it's sooner than later."
He sighed and leaned back in his swivel chair. "Me too. He's going to kill someone. Damn." He ran his hand through his graying brown hair. "You look beat. You should go home and rest."
"I'm exhausted. I have to do a briefing with Stichler before my shift ends. But then I have two days off, and I'm totally looking forward to it." She smiled.
"Is he treating you better?"
She shrugged. "What can I say? Stichler is Stichler."
He shook his head. "You let me know if he goes too hard on you."
She pushed up to her feet. "Thanks, but I can handle him. I better go or he'll have my ass, even though he sits for hours in his office not doing much but playing computer games or bullshitting with his cronies. One of the perks of being the boss, I guess."
"He's a goddamned jerk. I'll see you in a couple days. Hopefully I'll have a solid lead to tell you about. Go out and do something fun on your days off."
"Right now, sleeping sounds like a lot of fun."
He laughed, then answered the ringing phone. Sharon walked out of the room, dreading her interaction with Stichler. In a few short hours, she'd be home; she had to focus on that.
Stichler's office was on the second floor, and she entered the area and walked toward it.
"You going in to see the sarge?" one of the deputies asked her.
"Yeah. He asked me to drop by," she said.
"He's gone. He wasn't feeling well so he took off."
Her face beamed. "That's too bad." She turned around and bounced out of the room, heading to the employee cafeteria to find Bryan.
After a few more hours of her and Bryan patrolling the streets of Pinewood Springs, Sharon clocked out and made her way to her house. She couldn't be happier that she had the next two days off. Her plans were to do absolutely nothing but sleep, catch up on her reading, watch a ton of junk TV, and eat whatever the hell she wanted.
* * *
From inside the house, he'd seen the dark-haired woman pull into the driveway-at last. For the past two hours, he'd been learning about her life, looking through her photo albums, smiling at her baby pictures as he imagined her mother and father did, and feeling a sense of admiration when he spotted her in her deputy uniform upon graduation from the sheriff's academy.
He'd also spent time going through her panties and bras, picking out the ones he'd have her model for him before he took her. His pulse quickened and his dick strained against his pants in anticipation of what was to come. He licked his lips and walked to her bedroom, hiding himself between her dresses in her walk-in closet.
She'd taken her time coming into the room, probably sorting through her mail or maybe enjoying a cold drink. It was incredibly hot, so he didn't fault her delay. Then he heard her footsteps on the hardwood floor as she came inside. A few seconds later, he discerned a heavy thud on her nightstand-her gun, he presumed-then the familiar sound of a zipper. He wanted to watch her undress, to see her bra and panties against her skin, but he didn't dare attempt a peek lest he be discovered too soon. So, he imagined her sliding her clothes off, revealing her panties and bra; his pants grew more uncomfortable with each image.
He heard the bathroom door close and he sneaked a peek out of the closet door. Straining to hear over the AC, he relaxed as he realized she was taking a shower. She'd be clean for him; he liked that. The door squeaked open and he stood still, watching her even though he knew he was taking a big chance that she'd see him. He couldn't help it; she was luscious and so pretty, her skin pink from the warm shower and steam. The close-trimmed strip of hair on her tantalizing mound made him reel.
Then she opened her dresser's top drawer, and he held his breath. She took out the sexiest bubblegum pink hip-hugger panty that he'd ever seen. When she slid it on, the floral lace hugging every curve, he nearly exploded. She stopped for a moment, her body stiff, as if she sensed something. He stepped back, his heart racing so fast he thought he may pass out. He quietly took a few steps to the side and hid himself among her many dresses. The scent of spiced vanilla curled around him, grabbing hold of his hard dick.
Several minutes passed, and then the light from the bedroom window flooded inside; she was so near, and his level of anticipation was off the charts. He swallowed, hoping she hadn't heard him. She grabbed a hanger and her fingers almost touched his chin. She placed some clothes on it, hung it on the closet rod. "Damnit," she said aloud, then turned around and bent down. She wore only a T-shirt, and the cheeks of her butt escaped the skimpy fabric covering it. Not being able to stand it another minute, he pushed out, grabbing her from behind, his large hand clasped over her mouth.
His victim kicked back with her feet, but he'd already anticipated it so he was prepared. Being the hunter always gave him advantage over the hunted, and he liked that a lot. She thrashed, pushed against him, and screamed loud when he had to use both hands to subdue her. She twisted around and her eyes bulged, her muscles rigid. "You? What the fuck?"
He smiled and shoved her over to the bed, slamming her down hard. He used those few seconds of shocked recognition to overpower her, sitting on top of her as he tied her hands and feet securely to the bed, duct taping her mouth. He rose up and leaned over to grab her gun on the nightstand, taking out the bullets and slipping them in his pocket. She squirmed, pulling on the rope. She was so pretty; he'd always thought so. Slowly he ran his fingers down her face, marveling at the softness. "They're secure. You're not going anywhere." Her brown eyes pleaded with him not to do what he had to.
He breathed out, knowing they had time-a lot of it. She had two full days off, and that was more than enough to satisfy all his fetishes and cravings. With a detached, cruel smile, he inched up her T-shirt.
* * *
Detective McCue chewed his gum vigorously as he stared at the lifeless body of Deputy Manzik. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it down, a sudden coldness hitting him and spreading through his body. He'd really liked her, and to see the life strangled out of her hit him hard. As many homicides as he'd worked, he still never got used to seeing the dead eyes of the victims.
Murder wasn't the norm in Pinewood Springs; the last homicide had been a year or so before, when the Pinewood Strangler had killed several young women. Since that case, the town had been pretty much homicide-free. He'd been a homicide detective in Denver before relocating to Pinewood Springs, and had seen his share of violent murders. It was at his wife's insistence that he'd traded the smog and noise for fresh air and muted sounds. At first he'd missed the action, the pulse of the city, but in time, he came to appreciate the slower pace of life. A big kudos was that he didn't have to see the opaque eyes of homicide victims very often. After the Pinewood Strangler case was put to rest, he didn't think anything would strike the town again, but he was wrong. What started as a man who peered into women's houses had escalated rapidly in the past couple of months to rape, and now murder.