Page 7 of Love Me Darkly
Tears sprang to his eyes. An entire sentence. She’d barely spoken five words to him during their last conversation. He should have known that getting her back into ballet would do the trick, at least temporarily. Angelica seemed to have been born to dance, having begun ballet and tap dancing at the age of three. She had flourished from the start, and he and Mariana had always gone the extra mile to ensure she could attend the best studio in D.C., and at least one of them could always come to her recitals.
“Okay, mi hija. I’ll make sure it all gets set up, okay? And it’ll only be a few more weeks. Then, we can go home.”
“Okay, Papi.”
He detected disbelief in her tone. Not that he could blame her. The few weeks he’d mentioned were his hope, but after more than a year of chasing this UNSUB with no end in sight, he began to think taking his daughter and leaving the country might need to be his next step.
What else could he do?
“Listen, I need to go now,” he told her. “I have to catch a flight, but I’ll call again really soon. I promise.”
“Sure.”
“I love you, Angel,” he murmured.
His breath caught in his throat as he waited for her to reply. A sigh of relief escaped when she said she loved him, too, before giving the phone back to Valentina.
“She agreed to try a dance studio,” he said, once his mother-in-law returned to the phone. “Find the best one in your area and let me know the cost. I don’t care how much, I’ll pay for it. Buy her new gear, too. Slippers, tights, leotards, the whole thing.”
“Thank you. I think she needed this call today. She seems happier now.”
He heard what Valentina didn’t say. Angelica seemed as happy as a girl in her shoes could be. Nothing would bring her comfort like being able to come home. After reminding Valentina to be careful and informing her he’d do his best to call again soon, he hung up.
Promptly tossing the burner phone into the garbage can, he threw the packaging in behind it, along with the receipt. He always paid in cash and never used the same burner phone twice. He couldn’t let this killer have any way of using him to find Angelica. If he lost her, there was nothing left to fight for.
“I don’t understand this,” Smith mumbled as they walked away from the New Orleans crime scene. “An UNSUB who escalates at this rate should be making mistakes. He should be leaving behind evidence … DNA, footprints … something!”
Smith’s words held the same exasperation building inside Mateo. He was right. Typically, when a serial killer began to escalate, he spiraled out of control, his methods becoming less precise. Yet, an hour at the crime scene in New Orleans had turned up nothing. The medical examiners in both states would take a few days to determine whether the guy had left any DNA behind, but Mateo already knew what the results would be. As always, it seemed this killer had disappeared into thin air after abducting, raping, and mutilating his victim.
The sun had set hours ago, taking the edge off the humidity that had greeted them when they’d exited their plane. Even in the fall, New Orleans was more humid than any place he’d ever visited, leaving a light sheen of sweat across his brow.
“There’s something we’re missing here. Maybe it has something to do with the matchbook, but we won’t be able to dig into that until tomorrow. We’re expected at the local field office first thing in the morning.”
“I’m heading to the hotel,” Smith muttered, scratching at the blond stubble on his jaw. “I need a burger and a bed, in that order. Want me to grab one of the officers and get us a ride?”
“You go ahead. I’d rather walk.”
Leaving the cordoned-off crime scene behind, Mateo shoved his hands into his pockets and set off. He’d never visited New Orleans before but had always wanted to bring Mari and Angelica for a vacation. In his peripheral vision, bright colors and lights called out to him, while the aromas of food from various cafés made his stomach clench. He still had yet to eat. His stomach had begun to ache now that he'd allowed his mind to register his hunger. His limbs were heavy and lethargic, making every step a chore.
Realizing he might pass out if he didn’t do something about it, he visited the first hot dog stand he came across, buying two footlong dogs and a soda. He ate while he walked, relief easing through him as he filled his belly. Now that he wasn’t hungry anymore, other, more dormant sensations began to assault him. His back ached from hours in airplane seats, and his temples pounded relentlessly. The restlessness in his blood moved away from his limbs and straight to his center. Straight to his groin, specifically.
Irritation niggled him as he walked faster, pushing aside the idea of doing something about the half-erection pressing against the front of his slacks. He woke every morning with a hard-on to rival all hard-ons, sweating and shaking and desperate for relief. When he was working, it was easy enough to ignore. He drove himself at a grueling pace daily, filling every spare hour with work and exercise so that he would arrive home too exhausted to feel anything other than acute loneliness. But in moments like this, when he had been assured that Angelica was well, and everything he could do for the day had been done, he was hard-pressed to avoid one very significant way in which Mari’s loss had affected him.
Their sex life hadn’t been the most adventurous, and his work often had them going long periods without seeing or touching each other. But there had been something perfect and pure about being with her, something he couldn’t have explained with words if he tried. Shrugging off the gruesome details of the crimes he investigated at the end of the day was nearly impossible. The things he had seen, representing the worst of what humanity was capable of, followed him everywhere he went, even into his dreams. But Mari only had to open her arms to him and put her lips against his to silence the noise.
The hardened exterior of an army ranger turned FBI agent fell away at the slightest touch of her hand, and in her, he had found solace. It wasn’t only making love to Mari that he missed; it was the moments after, when he would lie his head on her breast and close his eyes. When she would run her fingers through his hair and whisper to him in the dark. When she would wrap her legs and arms around him and hold tight as if she thought herself strong enough to hold him together herself. She had been far stronger than he’d ever given her credit for, and he had only realized it after she was gone.
Noticing he neared the hotel, he retrieved his personal phone and pulled up the app he had installed in a moment of weakness. That one moment of desperation had driven him to do something he hadn’t done since his army days. One-night stands had riddled the years before he’d met Mari. Frequent deployments and immaturity had kept him from any long-term commitments. His time between tours of Afghanistan had passed in a haze of drunken club nights, rowdy barracks parties, and a blur of bedroom partners so long he couldn’t remember most of their faces, let alone their names.
Falling in love had put an end to his taste for variety. Mari had been the be-all, end-all for him, and no other woman had tempted him from the moment he’d clapped eyes on her. He had only used this app a handful of times over the past year, and only when he couldn’t think past the persistence of his dick. He rode the elevator up to his floor while swiping through profiles of local women, his settings ensuring he could have someone who wanted exactly what he did: a quick fuck with no strings attached. No phone calls, no texts, no dates or second helpings. Hit and quit, one and done.
By the time he made it to his room, he had swiped right on a handful of profiles. All he had to do now was wait for a match, which never took long in a city as populated as New Orleans. He’d been chasing this UNSUB all over the country and never had a hard time finding himself a temporary lay.
Tossing his phone onto the bed, Mateo began stripping out of his suit as he walked to the bathroom. He took his time in the shower, though he heard multiple pings from the app, indicating success. After toweling off, he took up the phone and inspected his options. He chose someone as different from Mari as he could manage—someone with bright blonde hair, blue eyes, and a knowing, flirtatious grin on her lips. He didn’t want a specter of Mari or some fragment that might remind him of what he had lost. If he couldn’t have the silken grasp of her around his cock, or the sweet play of her fingers down his back, or the tender press of her lips and tongue on places that made his toes curl, then he didn’t want anything remotely resembling them.
While he waited for his date to return his message, he cracked open the bottle of Scotch that someone had delivered to this room in his absence. Likely Williams, as she had overseen the logistics of their hotel stay and knew of his preference. He was grateful for the thought, needing something to help chase away the yawning sensation of guilt opening in his middle. As he poured his first glass, his gaze darted to his duffle bag, where the photos of Mari and Angelica had been stashed. His face burned, as if their eyes could pierce straight through the paper of the photos and the pocket hiding them.
It took thirty minutes for his date to arrive, and by then, he’d had three tumblers of the Scotch and begun to grow impatient. The shower, the liquor, and time alone with his thoughts had done nothing to temper the erection persisting south of his waist. There was only so much satisfaction a guy could get out of his own hand.
