Hold Back the Dark (19 page)

The young man nodded. “All clear.”

Josh looked down at Aimee. “You don’t mind if I give it a once-over myself, do you?”

Mind? She couldn’t be more relieved. She’d rather spend the night outside in the smelly hallway than walk in there by herself. The shame she felt at her own fear was nearly overwhelming. She felt her knees wobble and grabbed the doorframe. Josh steadied her, his arm encircling her, giving her balance and stability. She looked up at him, braced for the pity she knew would be reflected in his eyes.

She saw concern. She saw sympathy. But she didn’t see pity.

She squared her shoulders, and they opened the door to her former sanctuary.

Aimee Gannon’s fear had been nearly palpable as they walked down the hallway toward her door. Her jaws were clenched tight. Her shoulders were rigid. Josh had wanted to pull her close to him so she’d know she was safe and not alone, but he didn’t dare. He had no idea how she’d react. Victims of crime sometimes needed to stand on their own.

Then she’d swayed at the doorway as if her knees were going to buckle. He’d steadied her and she’d looked up at him with those wide blue eyes, and he’d felt like his own knees had turned to water.

“Let me go in first,” he said. “Just as a precaution.”

She’d nodded and tried to smile.

Her condo was unexpectedly bland. He supposed all the beige was restful, but it made tapioca pudding look
muy caliente.
It didn’t fit with the spark in her eyes when she’d been angry with him. It didn’t fit with the passionate way she’d defended Taylor.

At least it would be easy to tell if anything had been disturbed. It’d be like looking for footprints in a newly raked sand garden.

“How many rooms?” he asked.

“Two bedrooms. One and a half baths,” she said from the entryway. “I’ll light some candles while you look around.”

Josh checked each closet, behind each door, even under the bed. He came out to find she had arranged a series of candles on a silver platter that had seen better days. She struck a match and as she began to light the wicks, the golden light flickered over her face.

God, she was beautiful.

“This is probably going to smell even worse,” she said, looking down at the platter. “One of my friends dragged me to a candle party. I bought a sampler, so each one of these is a different scent.”

“I think it’ll be okay,” Josh said. Aimee had a lot bigger things to worry about than scented candles, but people often focused on some small detail so they didn’t have to think about what was actually happening. “It doesn’t look like anything’s been disturbed. You might want to take a quick walk through to make sure.”

She nodded but didn’t move, staring down into the flickering candlelight. “He was in the building. He wasn’t supposed to be able to get into the building.”

Josh rubbed the back of his neck. “People do stupid things. They hold the door open for someone who acts like they belong. Or they hit the buzzer to let someone in, even though they haven’t heard the name clearly. They don’t look behind them and someone ducks into the garage after they’ve pulled in. The truth is, if someone really wants in, they’re probably going to get in.”

She shivered and Josh felt bad for frightening her, but sugar-coating the truth wouldn’t protect her.

“You’re right,” she said. “I should be relieved he didn’t get in my condo—but even the hallway is too close for me.”

“We’ll pick him up in the morning. This will have violated his parole. He won’t be coming back anytime soon.”

She sank down into one of the chairs. “A fat lot of good that did me last time.”

“Feel like telling me about last time?” Josh asked, sitting down in the chair across from her.

She straightened back up and shoved the hair off her forehead. “I’m not sure there’s much to tell that you don’t already know about, Detective. You’ve read the file.”

“Please call me Josh. And I haven’t gone over it myself.”

Quiet stretched between them. Then Aimee asked, “Are you on duty, Josh?”

“No. Actually, I guess I’m not.”

“Good. Would you like to have a drink with me?”

A
imee poured whiskey into two glasses and walked into the living room. She curled herself into a corner of the couch, pulled a throw over herself, and gestured to the other end of the couch. “Make yourself at home.” She took a sip of whiskey and savored the trail of fire it left down her throat.

Josh filled the space, his long, strong legs stretched before him. Aimee could feel his heat from the other end of the couch.

“So this guy really got to you,” he said, looking down into his glass.

“Yep. I guess you could say that.” No matter how hard she fought it. “When a client turns violent and that violence is directed at you…it changes the way you view a lot of things.”

“I can see that.” He leaned back deeper into the cushions. “I can definitely see that.”

“I still don’t think Taylor killed her parents,” she said quietly.

“Me neither,” he said, his head tilted back and eyes gazing up toward the ceiling. “It doesn’t feel right. I thought maybe the boyfriend and she might have done it together, but the little shit’s alibi checks out.”

That was good news. “You found Flick? What was he like?”

“Interestingly enough, Elise thinks that he looks like Sean Walter with a mohawk. I think he looks like a punk.”

“That
is
interesting.” Something niggled in the back of Aimee’s brain, but it was gone in a flash. She took another sip of her whiskey. “You didn’t let me talk to him.”

He shrugged. “There wasn’t an opportunity. The picture he painted of Taylor wasn’t exactly a pretty one, by the way. Why is she so damn self-destructive? From the looks of things, she had it pretty good. What did she have to be so twisted up about?”

It was time to put her cards on the table. “I think Taylor might have been sexually abused.”

Josh sat up a little straighter. “Do you think it was the father? Because if her father was raping her and her mother knew about it, it would be one hell of a motive for murder. She wouldn’t be the first abuse victim to finally snap and take out her abuser.”

Aimee shook her head. Abusers don’t shell out a hundred and fifty dollars a session without much hope of an insurance reimbursement to a licensed professional intent on figuring out why their daughter has started listening to My Chemical Romance and cutting herself, when their only reward might be a jail sentence and complete estrangement from their family. “No. I don’t, especially since I talked to them about the possibility that Taylor might have been molested.”

Josh leaned toward her. She was intensely aware of how close he was, of his warmth and of the warm masculine smell of him. Her heart beat a little faster in her chest, spreading heat throughout her whole body.

“How did that go?”

Aimee took another sip of whiskey. “It could have gone worse. I went over everything that I could think of with them, anything that could have helped us pinpoint a time or a person. Nothing seemed to ring any bells with them.”

“Did they have anything helpful at all? Any idea of what was going on with their own daughter?”

Aimee shot him a look. It was easy to judge someone else’s parenting. Figuring out how to raise a teenage girl was a hell of a lot more difficult. “They were doing the best they knew how to do. She blindsided them, to be honest. For years she’d been quiet, well-behaved, clingy even. Especially with her mother. Then all of a sudden she was sneaking out of the house, stealing money from her mother’s purse, dating a boy who was older and in so many ways inappropriate. Her parents had no idea what to do. At least they were trying to do something to help.”

Josh held up his hands in surrender. “I give. So she was sweetness and light until six months ago. Is that when you think she was molested?”

Aimee shook her head. “I think it happened a long time ago.”

“Why?”

“Taylor has very few memories from the time right after her family moved to Sacramento, while her earlier recollections of Phoenix were really vivid.”

Josh shrugged, making Aimee all the more aware of the muscles in his chest and shoulders through his thin T-shirt. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I really remember third grade, either.”

“No, but third grade was longer ago for you than it was for Taylor.” She sat up more on the couch and leaned toward him. Big mistake. They were inches away from each other. At least she wasn’t cold anymore.

“Ouch!” Josh clutched his chest in mock pain.

Aimee smiled. “You know what I mean. Besides, this was a definite gap with a specific beginning and ending. Even though she remembered things from after that summer, Taylor said she didn’t remember that time period because Sacramento sucked and there wasn’t much reason to remember anything that happened here. A lot of things sucked: geometry, sobriety, Hannah Montana, her parents—just to name a few.”

“Sounds like a typical teenager.”

“It does, but she was covering, maybe even from herself. A gap like that is a red flag to a therapist. Something happened at that time that Taylor didn’t want to remember. There’ve been other things, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that she had a big personality change a few months after they moved here. Her aunt said that before the move, Taylor had been an outgoing and friendly kid. Something changed. She got quiet and clingy. She reverted to a much earlier stage of her childhood.”

“A kid having a personality change—even if you could possibly confirm that—doesn’t mean much.”

“It’s not just the personality change, either. It’s the way she’s clutching the stuffed dog that she got as a present from her aunt at about that same time. It’s something about the symbols she drew on that self-portrait, with her so small underneath them, and that she keeps drawing them again and again. It’s all linked, Josh. I’m sure of it.”

Josh shook his head. “I don’t know.” That would certainly make a nice neat little package out of this case, but Josh was inherently suspicious of neat little packages. They didn’t occur naturally, and they almost never occurred in a homicide investigation. People were messy. Their lives were messy. Their emotions were messy. The way they killed was messy. “A pile of drawings doesn’t mean the two things are related.”

“There’s something about the way she’s turning back to the same time period in which she was molested that makes me feel like they’re connected. I understand that one emotional trauma always, in some ways, connects to another. But why go back to that
particular
time, if they’re not connected more strongly than that? If she was going to revert again, why not go back to the even earlier stage that she reverted to when she was molested? I think Taylor is trying to tell us something through her behavior, just like those symbols she drew are trying to tell us something.”

Josh shook his head. “None of it’s evidence you can take to court.”

Aimee’s hands flew up. “I’m not looking for evidence to take to court. I’m looking for clues that will help me figure out what made Taylor break, so maybe I can help put her back together again.”

Josh set his whiskey glass down. “Can’t it be both?”

She stood up from the couch. “Of course it can! I’m just saying that my priority is—”

“I know what your priority is. I’m just saying what mine is.” He stood and faced her.

Aimee’s face was flushed and her eyes were bright. Josh wanted to feel that heat, and he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer.

His hands slid up her arms, then he leaned down and his lips touched hers. They were soft and warm and he could taste the whiskey on them. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Her hands slid up onto his chest, the pressure light but oh so tantalizing. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. Her pupils were so dilated that they were nearly black, with only the thinnest rim of blue.

She looked back at him, eyes wide, then her arms slid around his neck and she pulled him down for another kiss. He relished the small moan she made as her lips opened beneath his. He swept his tongue in, tasting her, testing her, tangling with her, savoring her warm flavor as he nibbled on her full lower lip. She gasped and he pulled back, worried he’d shocked her. She blushed and ducked her head against his chest.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured into her hair.

“Longer than I’ve been waiting for you to do it?”

He chuckled. “Probably. You were kind of pissed at me that first night. I’m guessing you didn’t want me to kiss you right then, but trust me, it was already on my mind.”

“I
was
kind of pissed off, but that doesn’t mean I was blind.” Her hands reached up to tangle in his hair.

“I’ll definitely want to hear more about that at some point. Possibly even some point soon.” He kissed her forehead.

She brushed her lips against his.

“Aimee,” he said gently, “I don’t want to go.”

She stiffened. “I don’t want you to go, either, but I understand.” She pulled away a fraction.

He pulled her back and brushed the hair from her forehead. “You
don’t
understand. I want to stay here. I don’t think Kyle will come back tonight, but I’m not keen on taking chances. And I’m afraid that now that I’ve kissed you, you won’t let me stay.”

“I don’t want you to go,” she said, her voice quiet but intense.

His heart did a somersault. He wanted her in his arms and in his bed.

He scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom, then he laid her on the bed. Her hands reached up and tangled in his hair again. He took them in his own hands and kissed her fingers, never taking his eyes from hers. He felt like he could dive in there and never surface. He released her hands and covered her with his body, then kissed her again.

She arched beneath him and kissed him back. Her fingers found the buttons on his shirt and undid them. He wanted to rip his shirt off, but allowed himself the delicious sensation of anticipation. Once his shirt was open, she ran her hands over his chest and he knew he’d made the right choice. The feel of her hands on him had been worth waiting for.

She sat up and he slid her top over her head, reached behind her and unclasped her bra, and laid her down on the bed again. As his flesh touched hers, she gasped into his kiss. Every place their skin touched felt electric and charged. He dipped his head to her breast and took the nipple in his mouth. She arched beneath him again, a small moan escaping from her throat. Her hands caressed his face and brought his lips to hers once again.

He settled himself between her legs. His erection pressed against her, and he felt her breath catch. He reached between them and unbuttoned her jeans. When he slid his hands down the silky skin of her stomach, she moaned again. He sat up and tugged the jeans from her long legs. For a moment, he simply looked at her and let the feeling of his heart tumbling inside his chest wash through him.

She lifted her hands to him. “Come back to me.”

“I never left.”
I never will, either.
He lowered himself to her again and caressed her through the lace of her panties, making her writhe.

“Oh, Josh!”

He slid her panties down her legs and his fingers curled in the damp curls between her legs. His eyes stayed on her face, now flushed with passion, and her eyes closed as she let the feeling wash over her, as overwhelmed as he was.

The scent of her arousal rose to meet him and his cock throbbed in response. He slid one finger inside her and she moaned. He slid a second finger inside her and she arched to meet him. He lowered his head to taste her and she gasped. As the wave of her fast orgasm shook her, she called his name. Quickly he stood and shucked off his jeans and boxers. He said a silent prayer of thanks that he had a condom in his wallet. He covered himself and in moments he was over her again, the head of his cock pressed against the silky wet heat of her opening. “Look at me,” he said, his voice hoarse and rough.

Her eyes flew open and, with their gazes locked, he slid inside her.

The room whirled around him like a kaleidoscope, with the constant center being Aimee’s eyes. He moved slowly at first, until she met his rhythm with an urgency that mirrored his own. He matched her pace. As he heard her breath begin to come in small gasps and her eyes began to close, he changed his angle and her eyes flew open once again. He nearly laughed with the joy of it. He kissed her and his world rocked again as she flicked her tongue wickedly inside his mouth, invading him in turn.

He felt her clench around him as she began to climax again. He could hold back no longer, and together they rocked and shook while stars exploded in his brain.

Afterward, as she curled beside him, her head on his chest, he pulled the blanket over them. She sighed and nestled closer. He kissed the top of her head and smiled, closed his eyes, and tried to let himself be content. But one thing still remained between them. He wasn’t sure if it was the detective in him or the jilted fiancé, but he had to ask.

“So what happened to the fiancé?” He felt Aimee stiffen and he pulled her closer to him.

“I suppose Kyle happened,” she said, not looking at him. “That’s the short answer.”

“I’ve got time. I could listen to the longer answer.” She had allowed him to draw her closer, but she still had not relaxed. He knew he was treading on thin ice, but he needed to know. He wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered to him. Aimee was not Holly. He was sure she had her reasons. Then again, it was entirely possible that some other guy had his arm around Holly right now and was figuring that she had her reasons, too. In all fairness, Josh supposed she had.

“You would think with the amount of time I’ve spent thinking about this and analyzing and trying to make it make sense, I’d have an answer to that question.” She rubbed her forehead with her thumb and pushed away from Josh. “I think that after Kyle attacked me, both Danny and I thought that things would go back to the way they were before. Especially after the trial.”