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The Skylark Inn left a lot to be desired. The current remodel did little to help the old motel, the rooms still felt cramped. The carpet and furnishings were old, but at least it was clean and the bed was new and comfortable. O’Riordan had slept in worse places over the years. Even though Alex had offered to stay in town with him, O’Riordan could tell that he wanted to get back home to his wife. So he was on his own for the night, unless something else happened.
He set up his laptop on the small table in the room. There was no desk or good workspace, but they offered Wi-Fi. He needed to work on a timeline, showing where the killer had been. This may help them figure out where they were headed next.
O’Riordan noticed the take out menus by the phone and decided that after his shower, he would see what they had to offer and settle in for the night. As he discarded his jacket on a chair, he heard a knock at his door. He looked through the peephole and was surprised to see Dr. Meghan Cook standing in the hall.
“I thought you may like some company. I heard through the grapevine that Jameson wasn’t very cooperative.”
He shouldn’t let her in. But when he looked into her eyes, he forgot about the intense loneliness he felt; the all-consuming stress of his job, and the chaos of his life. Instead, he felt a sudden desire to pull her into his arms and make love to her all night. It could cause a problem if they became involved. He had never been good at relationships, and when you throw in the long distance, it was doomed for failure.
“I was about to jump in the shower and then order takeout. Did you need me for something?” He didn’t mean to sound rude, but her presence had him on guard for some reason.
“I can do better than takeout. Let’s go to my house and I’ll fix us some supper. Afterwards, we can go over the case.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to. I’m a rather good cook, if I do say so myself. Besides, I already have lasagna in the oven. Who can say no to lasagna?”
“I hate to see good food go to waste, and Italian food is a favorite of mine.”
O’Riordan thought he had the good doctor pegged, until he saw what she drove. A 1994 Porsche 911 Cabriolet convertible. He became aroused just thinking of her handling all the power that car had under its hood. Meghan must have seen the envy in his eyes and laughed. “I like the speed and to feel the wind in my hair. Thankfully, I know most of the state troopers around here. Would you like to drive it?”
Despite the tempting offer to drive her car, he followed Meghan to her house. On the way over, he noticed the sunset and its fiery orange hues. He couldn’t remember the last time he sat outside to enjoy the sunset. It enraged him at the very thought that somewhere out there, David Thorguson and his accomplice could be looking at the same sunset as him. It was a gorgeous night and all he could think about was this damn case.
The timer was going off as they walked through the door. The tantalizing aroma teased their senses. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until his mouth started watering. “It smells wonderful. I’m starving.”
Laughing, she replied, “Well then, let’s eat while everything is hot.”
As Meghan led the way into the kitchen, they talked about the weather and kept the conversation away from the case. She served them each a big helping of lasagna while O’Riordan poured them a nice glass of Chianti. Meghan placed a basket of breadsticks and a bowl of salad in the middle of the table for them to share. “Help yourself.”
He watched in fascination as she dug into her supper, savoring every bite. “Food is my escape. I see so much death that I tend to turn to food. Cooking has turned into a pastime for me. I enjoy finding a new recipe to try. I like the challenge of preparing the more difficult recipes, while I am working on a mind boggling case. It helps me concentrate on something else and then a solution creeps into my mind before I have realized it.”
“That’s good advice. I may have to try it since this case has me stumped.”
“This is a really psychotic duo running loose. Death is too good for them.”
“David Thorguson is a psychopath. Neither man left many clues before, but now it’s as if they don’t care. Neither man is a dummy though. Until Thorguson’s accomplice helped him escape, he was a ghost. It was by chance that I even realized a possible serial killer traveled from state to state, never killing in the same place. I just wish I knew where they were going next. If the accomplice keeps to his pattern of not killing in the same city, then we know where they aren’t going. That still leaves a vast amount of ground to cover. With them traveling across the country in a motor home, they don’t have to stop and find a hotel room. That makes it even more difficult to track their movement.”
She thought about what he had said. “Your best bet may be to warn not only the police, but as many of the coroners’ offices as you can as well.” Looking him in the eyes, she explained, “Trust me, we are a close knit bunch who talk.”
“I will keep that in mind.” Taking another bite of lasagna he said, “Now, let’s enjoy this wonderful supper you made.”
***
AFTER SUPPER, THEY moved into the living room. “How long have you been with the FBI?” she asked while sitting next to him on the couch, making it difficult for him to concentrate. He watched as she tucked her feet underneath her and turned toward him. He could feel the warmth of her skin, her knee barely touching his.
Clearing his throat, he answered, “Too long, too many cases.”
She looked damned sexy sitting there. O’Riordan found himself wondering what it would be like to reach over and kiss her.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” O’Riordan kept telling himself this was a bad idea, but he had a hard time seeing the reasoning behind it.
“Why Special Agent O’Riordan? We are two single adults, am I correct?”
“Yes, but it could get messy.”
“Only if we let it.” She kissed him, pulling him towards her as she did.
It felt so good to touch her, to kiss her. It was better than he ever imagined in his wildest dreams. His arms wrapped around her, picking her up.
“I’m too old for this teenager stuff. Where’s the bedroom?”
“Down the hall, first door on the right.”
By the time they made it to the bedroom, a trail of clothes were scattered behind them. He gazed down at her tanned body. In one swift movement, they were on the bed and he was on top of her, kissing and fondling. She let out a sensual moan and arched up to meet him.
She lightly raked her hand along his chest and abdomen. She could feel where his body was riddled with scars as a result of his career.
She slowly kissed each one, as if trying to kiss away the pain.
***
THE TANTALIZING SCENT of cooking bacon and coffee woke Meghan. Desire built up inside her once again as the memory of O’Riordan moving inside her was still intense. She couldn’t believe he was preparing breakfast for her. She quickly dressed and headed towards the kitchen.
“I’m impressed, an agent that can cook.”
Giving her a deep good morning kiss, he smiled and answered, “There are a lot of things I’m good at in the morning, but I thought you may want to eat something first.”
After pouring them a cup of coffee, she made herself comfortable at the bar and watched him finish. As he handed her a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, her mouth was already watering – but it wasn’t for food.
***
DETECTIVE JAMESON HAD taken O’Riordan up on his offer to use the FBI labs. When the toxicology report came back, it confirmed that the victim did have Rohypnol in her system. O’Riordan was leaning towards bars being one of the main playgrounds for this serial duo. With so many people around, it would be easy to slip something in a drink without being noticed. And no one would think twice about a man assisting a drunk person out of the bar.
Their perp had to be a real smooth talker to be able to abduct men and women. Men tended to be more standoffish when it came to another man approaching them. To attract women easily, he was probably good looking.
O’Riordan wondered why the body wasn’t posed; David Thorguson’s ego fed on attention. He loved playing his cat and mouse game, posing the bodies, knowing that there was no trace evidence left behind. Self-preservation must be more important than taunting the police right now.