Page 39 of Some Saviors Can Break You

Exhausted from thinking about all of this, Florence raked her fingers through her hair, then awkwardly twisted it into a ponytail as the strands stuck to her cast.

“Enough about my love life, or lack thereof. Let’s talk about the case. No hits on CODIS yet?” The blood from the apartment had been running through the Combined DNA Index System for forty-eight hours now and had yet to find any matches. She was starting to believe it never would. But their killer had to be in thesystem somewhere. You didn't go from nothing to murder with no stops in between—especially not the kind of smooth, well-coordinated, well-executed murders of the Dumpster Killer.

“Nothing yet, doesn’t mean we won't get one though.”

“Yeah,” she agreed half-heartedly. “We can wipe Justin Bates off our suspect list. He was in jail when Jana Friedrick was murdered, and I don’t think we can ignore the eye that whoever killed her painted in blood on the wall as a link to the dumpster killings.” The fact that Jana’s killer had drawn that specifically instead of writing his usual message felt like it was a message directed at her. She was the one who had figured out his body dump pattern, and he knew it because he’d tried to run her down. Memories of the other morning when she’d thought someone was watching her flitted through her mind. Had it been him? Was he fixated on her now?

“Yesterday, while you were enjoying Tuscany, I went through all the other reports we had when we ran the sketch of the killer, and I found two that I like as suspects.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her spirits lifted at the notion.

“Yep. One is a twenty-seven-year-old Frank Butterman. He’s not in the system, but he had been interviewed in the assaults of two women that he had previously lived next door to. There wasn't enough evidence to arrest him either time, but the cops were pretty positive he was their guy. The other is thirty-year-old Michael Stypes. He’s also not in the system, but there are nearly half a dozen stalker reports all where the women accuse him of following them and leaving nasty, vile messages scratched into cars and windows. He was arrested, but it never went to trial, again, not enough evidence for the DA to take it to court. His fingerprints are on file but not his DNA, so we wouldn’t get a hit in CODIS for him. Which one do you want to look into?”

“I’ll take Frank Butterman,” she said, taking the file he held out to her. Two suspects, and the time pressure of knowing that the Dumpster Killer wouldn’t be able to wait long before going after another woman should be enough to keep her mind occupied, so she didn't obsess over her very own cocky savior, Eli Lennox.

6:10 P.M.

“Hey, princess, how was your day?” Eli straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the car and walked over to greet Florence as she walked out of the police precinct.

She looked over and offered up a smile, but he could tell immediately that something was off. “My day was fine. How was yours?”

“Fine. I missed you.” He leaned down to kiss her, and while she kissed him back without hesitation, he still got the feeling that something was up. “I thought I would take you out for dinner. Something fancy, I wanted to treat you.”

“I think the trip to Florence was enough of a treat for one week.”

“A trip around the world wouldn’t be enough of a treat for one week,” he countered. “I thought we could go for drinks and then for dinner.”

“Actually, Eli, do you mind if we take a rain check? I have a headache, and I was going to go straight home, take a hot bath, and then go to bed early.”

What she said sounded logical, and shedidlook tired and a little drawn, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was pushing him away. She had a distant look in her eyes and hertone, and he felt like she was trying to dismiss him, albeit politely.

What had happened between last night and tonight?

Last night she had been curled up at his side, fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder after opening up to him about her childhood, and today she was pushing him away again.

“Sure, of course. I’ll drive you home, and if you want I can come up, I make a mean chicken noodle soup, and I don’t want to brag, but I give the best massages, ten minutes with my hands on those tense shoulders of yours and you’ll be out like a light, you’ll sleep like a baby through the night.”

“You don’t want to brag?” she asked with an arched brow. “Because that doesn’t sound like you.”

Eli relaxed a little at her teasing banter, maybe he was just getting a weird vibe from her because she was feeling sick with a headache. “Okay, I am bragging about my massages, I have a reputation to maintain after all.”

“Well, not that I think you're overselling yourself, but I'm going to pass, I just want to sleep.”

“All right,” he agreed. It went against his every instinct to acquiesce so easily, but she’d kissed him, and she’d teased him, he had to believe that she was just worn out and not trying to push him away. After hearing what he’d told her about her past he understood why she might want to push him away. She hadn't had anyone to trust, and believing that he wasn't going to be just another person to hurt her had to be hard. If she needed a little space he could give her that.

Taking her hand, he led her over to the car and helped her inside. When he slid in beside her and put an arm around her shoulder, she leaned into him and laid her head on his shoulder.

The ride to her apartment didn't take long, and he soaked in the feel of her warm, soft body against his. His fingers stroked her hair which was hanging loosely around her shoulders, andrubbed up and down her arm, pleased when she gave a small content sigh and snuggled closer. His heart squeezed almost painfully at the sound, he wanted this so much it hurt.

How did he convince Florence of that?

He’d told her over and over again that he was serious about her and that he didn't care that they had grown up in two different worlds. He’d tried to show her with his actions as well, the trip to Florence was meant to show her just how special he thought she was, it wasn't something he did with every woman he dated.

As much as it killed him, maybe he had to take a step back and let her come to the same place he was on her own. He couldn’t force her to believe him, he could continue to show her, but in the end, she had to learn to believe in him.

“Want me to walk you up?” he asked when they pulled up in front of her building.

“No, thanks. If I let you come up you're just going to try to convince me to let you in, I know what you’re like.” The smile she gave him this time was almost sad like she knew what he was like, but her past was trying to convince her that she was wrong, and there was something sinister hiding underneath his persona.

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