hangs, poised, over the mouse.
Instead I go to Finder, hit sleep.
The screen returns to black.
I head over to the closet, kicking off my shoes on the way. The light automatically turns on when I open the door. It’s filled with his suits, shirts, and shoes. The scent of Kallistos’ aftershave perfumes the air with a delicate and familiar subtlety. I reach for a starched white button-down with traditional cuffs and a spread collar. My blouse and lingerie go into the hamper. The slacks and jacket are hung in the closet. I pad, nude, across the thick caramel carpet into the bathroom, shirt in hand. I hang the shirt on a hook behind the bathroom door, turn on the taps, and add a generous portion of bath salts to the swirling water.
My phone rings. “Bad Moon Rising.” Zack.
Rather than race downstairs to get it, I pick up the handset in the bathroom and call him back. “What’s up?”
“Heard from Garner. His review of the security footage at the school for the last several days turned up nothing out of the ordinary.”
I can hear the disappointment in his voice as he continues.
“So far the school’s the only location we can place all three girls. Seems logical that’s where whoever is responsible identified his victims. I’m thinking if it wasn’t someone on the outside . . .”
“Maybe we should be looking closer at those on the inside.”
“Exactly what I’m thinking. I have a list of the faculty and staff. I’m going in to start running background checks tonight.”
I turn off the water. “You’re going in now? What happened to driving Sarah out to the ranch?”
“She took a cab.”
“A cab?”
No reply.
“Zack?”
“You have this idea about what Sarah and I have. It’s not what you think.” Before I have a chance to respond he asks, “You want to come in and help?”
I hear the door downstairs open, then close.
“Kallistos just came in. I need to talk to him about Lamont. Maybe after.”
Seconds tick by.
I hear footsteps on the staircase. “Emma?”
Zack hears Kallistos, too. “I’ll let you go. I’ll updateJimmy tonight, put in a couple hours. Meet you in the office tomorrow morning at eight.”
“I’ll see you then,” I tell him. Then I hang up, and slide into the tub. The water is almost scalding. Steam rises up. I close my eyes and try to relax.
“Emma?”
“In here!”
Kallistos appears in the doorway. He’s wearing a sleek-cut, single-breasted black suit. In the breast pocket is a neatly folded white handkerchief. It matches the white dress shirt, open at the collar. His dark hair is combed back from his forehead; shoulder-length layers frame his handsome face. I see something in his clear blue eyes that I haven’t seen before: worry. “Is everything all right?”
I pluck one of the larger sea sponges from the basket perched on the tub’s surrounding rim and hand it to Kallistos.
A smile smooths the worry frown from his brow. He removes his suit coat and hangs it on a hook. His smile broadens when he sees another of his own shirts, the one I brought with me from his closet, hanging nearby. “Need help with those hard-to-reach places, do you?”
He’s already removed his onyx cuff links and is rolling up his sleeves.
I lean forward, hugging my knees to my chest. “You came home early. Am I keeping you from something?”
“Nothing as important as you. What is it? Has something happened?”
His voice is low, even, soothing. Water spills down by back, over my shoulder. His strokes are slow and deliberate.
“Nothing. Everything. I’m working a case. Young girls, three of them. It’s going nowhere. I’m worried,” I confess.
“That you won’t find them?”
“That they’re already dead. There haven’t been any ransom demands, not for any of them.” I turn to face him. “But I need to speak to you about something else. Something I heard at lunch today.”
“About?”
“You. Well, maybe you. Seamus O’Malley—”
“You had lunch
Instead I go to Finder, hit sleep.
The screen returns to black.
I head over to the closet, kicking off my shoes on the way. The light automatically turns on when I open the door. It’s filled with his suits, shirts, and shoes. The scent of Kallistos’ aftershave perfumes the air with a delicate and familiar subtlety. I reach for a starched white button-down with traditional cuffs and a spread collar. My blouse and lingerie go into the hamper. The slacks and jacket are hung in the closet. I pad, nude, across the thick caramel carpet into the bathroom, shirt in hand. I hang the shirt on a hook behind the bathroom door, turn on the taps, and add a generous portion of bath salts to the swirling water.
My phone rings. “Bad Moon Rising.” Zack.
Rather than race downstairs to get it, I pick up the handset in the bathroom and call him back. “What’s up?”
“Heard from Garner. His review of the security footage at the school for the last several days turned up nothing out of the ordinary.”
I can hear the disappointment in his voice as he continues.
“So far the school’s the only location we can place all three girls. Seems logical that’s where whoever is responsible identified his victims. I’m thinking if it wasn’t someone on the outside . . .”
“Maybe we should be looking closer at those on the inside.”
“Exactly what I’m thinking. I have a list of the faculty and staff. I’m going in to start running background checks tonight.”
I turn off the water. “You’re going in now? What happened to driving Sarah out to the ranch?”
“She took a cab.”
“A cab?”
No reply.
“Zack?”
“You have this idea about what Sarah and I have. It’s not what you think.” Before I have a chance to respond he asks, “You want to come in and help?”
I hear the door downstairs open, then close.
“Kallistos just came in. I need to talk to him about Lamont. Maybe after.”
Seconds tick by.
I hear footsteps on the staircase. “Emma?”
Zack hears Kallistos, too. “I’ll let you go. I’ll updateJimmy tonight, put in a couple hours. Meet you in the office tomorrow morning at eight.”
“I’ll see you then,” I tell him. Then I hang up, and slide into the tub. The water is almost scalding. Steam rises up. I close my eyes and try to relax.
“Emma?”
“In here!”
Kallistos appears in the doorway. He’s wearing a sleek-cut, single-breasted black suit. In the breast pocket is a neatly folded white handkerchief. It matches the white dress shirt, open at the collar. His dark hair is combed back from his forehead; shoulder-length layers frame his handsome face. I see something in his clear blue eyes that I haven’t seen before: worry. “Is everything all right?”
I pluck one of the larger sea sponges from the basket perched on the tub’s surrounding rim and hand it to Kallistos.
A smile smooths the worry frown from his brow. He removes his suit coat and hangs it on a hook. His smile broadens when he sees another of his own shirts, the one I brought with me from his closet, hanging nearby. “Need help with those hard-to-reach places, do you?”
He’s already removed his onyx cuff links and is rolling up his sleeves.
I lean forward, hugging my knees to my chest. “You came home early. Am I keeping you from something?”
“Nothing as important as you. What is it? Has something happened?”
His voice is low, even, soothing. Water spills down by back, over my shoulder. His strokes are slow and deliberate.
“Nothing. Everything. I’m working a case. Young girls, three of them. It’s going nowhere. I’m worried,” I confess.
“That you won’t find them?”
“That they’re already dead. There haven’t been any ransom demands, not for any of them.” I turn to face him. “But I need to speak to you about something else. Something I heard at lunch today.”
“About?”
“You. Well, maybe you. Seamus O’Malley—”
“You had lunch
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