Caging a Copycat - Chapter 11
CSU had pulled the blade from the wall.
The medical examiner—Dr. Aubrey Flood—would have to compare it to the wounds in their newest victim, but the preliminary exam of the weapon suggested it’d been used to murder Irene Pearce, Grant Harvey and Marco Stein. Neither Olivia nor Silas had gotten a good look at their masked attacker during the adrenaline-induced fight, but they’d agreed on one thing: they’d let a killer slip through their fingers.
Olivia unlocked the dead bolt securing her front door and pushed inside. The resonating echo of her weapon and phone hitting the wood surface of the entryway table shocked the last of her nerves that hadn’t been frayed. She met only darkness—emptiness—and flipped on the light. The two-bedroom, one-bath space had become a sanctuary over the years. Somewhere just for her and no one else. Until now. “You’re welcome to use the guest bedroom and bathroom to clean up.”
Silas examined her minimalistic, modern home, complete with dark hardwood floors, a renovated kitchen off to their right and neutral furniture straight ahead. He moved with grace despite his muscular frame and wide shoulders. Almost as though he belonged. “I appreciate it. Can’t imagine bringing me here was your first thought.”
“You and I both know you haven’t had time to get a hotel room since showing up at my crime scene this morning. Besides, we’re not going to get the results from the victims’ autopsies until tomorrow. You staying here gives us more time to review the case.” Olivia hung her coat in the entryway closet and kicked off her heels. She released the tight bun at the back of her head and shook her hair out. Habit. But the way Silas studied her from the small dining room made her feel as though she were the only woman in the world. As though nothing outside of these four walls existed but her. Which was ridiculous. She wasn’t a rookie anymore. What he’d said earlier about protecting her during this investigation because she’d always be his partner... It'd been professional courtesy. Nothing more.
“Won’t your husband have a problem with me here?” he asked.
“If I had one, but I don’t. No boyfriend, either, if that’s what you’re digging for.” Olivia tugged open the refrigerator and rifled through the shelves. Her stomach growled in response to the near destitute situation, and she tried to remember the last time she’d gone grocery shopping. “Hope you like chicken and marinara sauce. Because apparently that’s all I have.”
She shut the door, the package of chicken and a jar of marinara in her arms, and flinched.
Silas stood on the other side. Brown eyes—nearly black—locked on her, but the thought of breaking away grated against her pride.
Her heart jerked in her chest. “What are you—”
He threaded his fingers through her hair and crushed his mouth to hers.