Down and Dirty Page 6

  I recognized the look in his eyes and my blood hummed beneath my skin. It was amazing how awake and revived I could get after just one look. “Better be careful. The majority of household accidents occur in the bathroom.”

  “Darling, I’m a cop. Careful is my middle name.”

  “That’s funny,” I said, wide-eyed. “I thought it was Oliver.”

  His smile promised retribution, and he shed the rest of his clothes efficiently and with purpose.

  “It looks like you got your second wind.” I arched a brow at his obvious arousal, and then took a step back when he stalked toward me, my ass bumping into the wall. There was no part of Jack’s body that was soft, from the thick muscles in his thighs up to those little indents above his hips that drove me crazy, and up further still to the strong shoulders and arms that could hold me so gently.

  “That smart mouth of yours drives me crazy.” He placed both hands on either side of my face and then leaned in, teasing me with nipping kisses along my bottom lip.

  “That’s probably a good thing, since you’ll be hearing from it the next fifty years or so.”

  Plumes of mist from the hot water billowed out the open shower door and fogged the mirrors and glass. Jack kept up the teasing, making my head spin, and moved my body until the spray of hot water hit my shoulders.

  His hands slid down my slicked back and followed the curve of my ass, lifting me against him, and I moaned as his mouth took mine completely. Jack was a thorough lover and took his time. It was always me that was impatient.

  He took the time to wash my hair, supporting my head to keep the soap out of my eyes. And then he lathered body wash in his hands and smoothed them over my heated skin, starting at my shoulders and massaging his way down my back.

  I was in that half-dream/half-reality state that only intimacy could bring. Where my legs couldn’t quite support me and my head was spinning. My senses were heightened—the sound of the water as it pounded over us—the smell of soap—the taste of Jack’s mouth on mine—the feel of his calloused fingers driving me past the point of control.

  “Please, Jack,” I begged. “I need you.” It was all I had to say.

  His mouth devoured, his tongue stroking mine, and he walked me toward the back of the shower until I hit the wall. My leg hitched around his hip and I stood on the ball of my other foot as I felt him probe against me.

  Again, he teased me. The fullness of him pressing against my opening only to retreat again. The cry that broke in my throat was a sob of frustration, and he laughed into my mouth, though it was strained.

  “God, Jaye.” He gripped my wrists with one hand and turned me around, so my face was against the tile, and then he slid inside me with one long stroke and I forgot how to breathe.

  Jack let go of my wrists and his hands stroked down the smooth length of my back until they reached my hips. And then his fingers found purchase and he rode me hard, until I was screaming for release and mercy with the same breath.

  His hand curved around my hip until he touched the very core of me, and that was all it took to send me flying over the edge of surrender. He kissed the base of my neck and followed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Am I dead?” I asked.

  “Only if you keep laying with your head under the shower spray like that. How are you even breathing?”

  We’d somehow ended up sprawled on the floor of the shower. I could hear the laughter in Jack’s voice and he pushed me from beneath the spray. I sucked in a deep breath and attempted to open my eyes. Everything was out of focus and I couldn’t feel my legs.

  “You’re good for a man’s ego, my love.”

  All I could manage was a thumbs up sign, and then my hand dropped onto my stomach.

  Jack slapped my thigh and said, “Come on, woman. This floor is getting cold and I’m hungry.”

  I could practically feel the energy zinging off Jack. Orgasms had a tendency to have that effect on him. I, on the other hand, was content to stay where I was and face the possibility of accidental drowning.

  “Do I have to fix you dinner as payment for sex?” I asked.

  “God, I hope not. I want to live.”

  Jack managed to get to his feet and then leaned down and hauled me up under my arms. I wobbled in his arms and waited to see if my legs were going to start working or if I was going to walk like John Wayne for the foreseeable future.

  “Hey, I can make a sandwich,” I said. “I was trying to be wifely.”

  “We all have our strengths, love. Yours are in every other place except for the kitchen.”

  He guided me out of the shower and dried me off, wrapping a towel around me before doing the same to himself.

  “You’re very handy to have around. Let’s get married so I can keep you forever and ever.”

  He smacked me on the butt and guided me into the bedroom. “You’ll not get me off task.” He tossed a pair of underwear, a pair of jeans, and a long sleeve white Henley tee into my lap. “Clothes. Food. Hungry.”

  “That’s very caveman of you. Sexy.” I dressed quickly and towel dried my hair, running my fingers through it to smooth it in place, and then we headed downstairs to the kitchen.

  “Do you have the file on Cassandra Owens?” I asked, while he was assembling sandwiches.

  “The top file in my bag. Just bring the whole thing.”

  I retrieved the bag and pulled out the file labeled with Cassandra’s name. Her school picture was at the top of the stack and I looked into the eyes of a girl who’d never reach full adulthood. Just by looking at the shape of her face and the bone structure, I had a gut feeling that Cassandra Owens was the mystery girl currently occupying my freezer.

  I ran my finger along the features of her picture—dark blond hair and a softness to her cheeks that only the young had. Her eyes were cornflower blue and she’d lined them with dark eyeliner, making her look older than she was. Her eyes held both innocence and womanly knowledge. Her smile was bright, confident—a smile waiting to take on the whole world.

  “Seventeen years old,” I said. “Third in her class at Downton Academy—a prep school for the rich and almost famous. Lots of politicians’ kids. Tuition prices per year cost as much as all of med school.”

  Jack put a sandwich in front of me and I took a bite absently. The cobwebs from our earlier bout of sex had cleared and my mind was back to sharp focus. I skimmed through the other pages in the file—mostly academic—and then glanced at her medical files.

  “She suffered a broken femur,” I said, holding up a copy of the x-ray. “I’ll look for that as a backup identifier once we look at dental.” I closed the file and looked up at Jack.

  He sighed and finished off his sandwich. “You’re going to start on her tonight, aren’t you?”

  “Might as well. The Owens deserve to know if that’s their daughter as soon as possible. It’ll only take a couple of hours. I’ll be back before midnight.” I shrugged and looked at him apologetically. “Probably.”

  “I’ll go with you. I want to see if you find anything.”

  “You think we should invite Cal? He asked to observe.”

  “He can observe tomorrow. It’d be awkward for him to see all that beard burn on your neck.”

  I slapped a hand to my neck and then went to look at my reflection in a small grouping of mirrors hanging just inside the kitchen door.

  “Every time. You’re like a damned animal marking your territory.”

  Jack’s smile was predatory. “We can play king of the mountain later. Let’s go give Cassandra Owens her identity.”

  ***

  I’d never been bothered by being surrounded by the dead in the middle of the night. It’s not like it being day or night outside had any effect—dead was dead—though I guess there was a certain macabre feel to the place in the darkness. More so than usual. Maybe it was because there was a quietness to the dark that the daylight didn’t have—a hushed stillness.

  We didn’t have to worry about gaw
kers at this time of night. All of the businesses except for the café were shut down by eight o’clock every evening, so most people were tucked safely into their homes unless there was a school sporting event. Summers tended to get a little wilder—sometimes people stayed out until after ten—but those were the hell raisers and Jezebels.

  Jack parked under the portico and I was already out of the car by the time he turned off the ignition. I was itching to get started. The thought of what Mr. and Mrs. Owens must be going through—the not knowing—is what drove me. It was always the living that suffered, and if I could ease that suffering I would.

  I punched in the key code for the basement and the fortified metal door opened with a soft snick. The smell of the embalming fluid I’d used earlier wafted toward us. Jack’s face went pale and he swallowed a couple of times. I’d grown up with the smell, so it had never affected me like it did others.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine. Just give me a second. It’ll pass.” It was always reassuring to know that Jack, who seemed to be invincible on a day to day basis, was human after all. It was a weakness only I knew about, and I’d take the secret to the grave.

  I flicked on the lights and then hit the button for the exhaust fan. The fluorescent lights came on one by one and the smell slowly dissipated as it was sucked up into the fans. Jack and I headed down, our footsteps echoing on the industrial metal stairs and disturbing the quiet.

  I went to the freezer and punched in a second code. I’d left mystery girl in the front because I knew I’d more than likely be examining her first, so I rolled her out and over to my workspace. I put on a dark blue smock and tied the string twice around my waist, and then I put a plastic apron on top of that and my white lab coat on top of that.

  “You want help lifting her?” Jack asked, grabbing one end of the sterile white sheet so we could transfer her to the work table I used for autopsies.

  “On three,” I said. I could have moved her myself. The bulk of the weight of her was gone. But it was still easier with Jack’s help because the sheets tended to get bunched when I tried to move someone on my own.

  We got her transferred over and I flipped on the bright lights over the table, and then I attached my recorder to the lapel of my lab coat. Jack took the stool from under the counter and made himself comfortable. He knew to stay silent and out of the way.

  I turned on the recorder and began cataloging the victim. “Female,” I said. “Burns on one hundred percent of the body. Left leg ends at the end of the femur. Right leg ends just below patella, though patella is missing. Right arm ends at humeral lateral epicondyle. Left arm ends at humeral lesser tubercle.”

  I wrapped her in the sheet she was laying on and then used the pulley system I’d had installed above the table to lift her and record her weight. And then I measured from the top of the skull to what was left of her legs to record the height.

  “Height while living is estimated to be just over five feet five inches tall.”

  I put on a pair of magnifying glasses and brought the light down lower so I could look over the body more carefully. The skin had been ravaged, so looking for birthmarks or other telling signs was almost pointless, but sometimes you got lucky so I did it anyway. I found what I was looking for when I reached the fatty part of the right buttock.

  “Anything in her file about a tattoo?” I asked Jack. The top layers of skin had been burned away, but tattoo needles and ink went deep, and I could see the dark staining through my lens.

  “Nothing that I read, but it’ll be easy enough to find out. She’d have to have parental consent since she’s not eighteen.”

  I hmmmed and moved on, documenting the mark and its location. I removed fibers and more of the melted bed sheet from the back of her body and bagged them.

  “Let’s go ahead and get x-rays and then we’ll get to the good stuff.”

  “Only you would classify using a stryker saw as the good stuff.”

  I handed Jack a lead vest and set up the x-ray, starting with dental first and then moving to the rest of the body.

  “Hand me those original x-rays from her file would you?” I put up the dental x-rays on the light board and then took the one Jack handed me and placed it next to it. “We’ve got a match.” But just to be sure I compared the x-rays of the femur break she’d had from childhood.

  “Victim is identified as Cassandra Owens,” I said into the recorder. “Both dental and medical x-rays confirm.”

  “I’ll meet with the parents first thing in the morning,” Jack said.

  I glanced at the clock and winced. I wasn’t going to make the midnight deadline of getting home like I’d promised Jack. Now that we had an identity, the rest of the autopsy was routine. I took blood and vaginal samples and then took another swab of the nose and throat.

  “Indication of sexual activity,” I said. “I’ll take a sample from Damian Connelli and send it off to make sure it’s a match.”

  And then I went about the task of opening Cassandra Owens up to see what was inside.

  “How’s she look?” Jack asked.

  “Healthy. Everything is registering as normal. I don’t see any signs of foul play here, Jack. Smoke inhalation seems to be cause of death. It could just be a terrible accident. I’m going to need dental and medical records for the Connelli family too.”

  “You’ll get them. I’m turning into a pumpkin, Doc. Lets put Ms. Owens back together and go home.”

  “That’s the second best offer I’ve had today.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next morning came entirely too soon in my opinion.

  It was rare that I woke before Jack, but he still slept softly beside me, his body relaxed and his face unguarded. Even in sleep he touched me, his arm draped across my hip and his leg wedged between my thighs.

  We were getting married in two days and I had seven dead bodies inside my funeral home. The math wasn’t all that favorable as far as saying “I do” and then getting the heck out of Dodge for a week of sex and relaxation. I couldn’t leave Bloody Mary without clearing the slate for work.

  The viewings for my two embalmed guests were later in the evening, and their funeral services were scheduled at different times the following day. Which meant in between autopsies I needed to remember to make sure the viewing rooms were set up, flowers were ordered, the bodies were well presented, and I was dressed professionally without bodily fluids staining my clothes.

  “I can feel you staring at me,” Jack said, keeping his eyes closed.

  “I figured if I did it long enough you’d wake up and put the coffee on. And maybe bring me a cup in bed.”

  His eyes cracked open at that request. “I thought that was the wife’s job.”

  “I won’t be a wife for three more days, so I figured I should take advantage while I can.”

  “I also just remembered how bad your coffee is, so maybe cross that off your list of wifely duties.”

  “I didn’t realize there was a list.”

  “I’ll send you a copy. I’ve got them all written down.”

  “That’s very—organized of you. And potentially dangerous.”

  Jack grinned. “I like to live on the edge.”

  “What’s on this list of so called duties?” I asked.

  “You know. The usual stuff.” His hand tightened on my hip and he rolled me to my back, settling between my legs. He rubbed his beard across my neck and then kissed it to soothe. “Laundry. House cleaning. Greeting me at the door in nothing but your lab coat and those high heels you wore for New Year’s Eve a couple of years ago.”

  “I didn’t realize you had role playing fantasies.”

  “I have J.J. Graves fantasies. I don’t care what you’re wearing as long as it’s me.”

  My breath caught as he slid deep inside of me. That was my favorite part of sex—that first joining—the becoming one flesh. I also loved watching Jack, the way his eyes dilated and the brown bled to black. And how his lids half-
closed and the veins in his neck stood out as he braced himself above me.

  The loving was long and slow and sweet, with soft caresses and deep kisses. This was what being truly connected felt like. My heart pumped faster, the blood rushed in my ears, and sweat dampened my skin. Jack’s hands intertwined with mine and my back arched as the tingles of release raced down my spine and across my skin.

  “Jack,” I cried out as wave after wave crashed through me. He buried his head against my neck and followed.

  ***

  It was still shy of seven o’clock by the time we showered. I came out of the bathroom dressed in a towel and went to the big walk in closet Jack and I shared. I pulled out plain white cotton underwear and a matching bra and then stood in front of the rack of clothes. I needed to be comfortable and professional. It was going to be a long day.

  I picked black ankle pants and a sweater set in deep purple. The layering was important because the funeral home was always set to colder temperatures. I slipped on black ballet flats for the day and grabbed a pair of black heels for the evening viewings to shove in my bag.

  I didn’t bother with makeup, but I had supplies at the funeral home and I’d spruce up a little before family members and friends of the deceased started showing up.

  My phone buzzed from the nightstand where it was plugged in and I went over to check it as Jack came out of the bathroom, freshly shaved and a towel draped low on his hips.

  “It’s Walker,” I said, reading the text. “He’s back at the scene and says he won’t be free until noon, so to go ahead without him and he’ll catch up when he can.”

  “That works out. You can come with me to notify the Owens.”

  I stared at Jack, but he wasn’t making eye contact. He normally wore jeans and button down shirts to work, but he pulled out charcoal slacks and a Sheriff’s Department polo with the insignia over the left breast.

  “You know I hate doing the notifications,” I said. “Seriously, I’ve got too much work to do.”

  “I hate doing them too, but you know it helps to hear exactly how you identified the victim. They always question the results, and you being there alleviates that.”