It’s hot. I don’t care. It’s the elixir of life all wrapped up into one wonderful little package. It’s like an orgasm, but it has caffeine… And it doesn’t expect anything back.
Hellooooo, coffee.
Drake grunts again and takes the mug right out of my hands.
“Did you change into a pig overnight or something?” I grumble, reaching for the cup.
He holds it up high, where he knows I can’t reach it, and hits me with his icy gaze. “No, but I might buy a parrot.”
I narrow my eyes. “I hate you.”
“Remember who has your coffee.”
“Keep it. I don’t feel like pretending to be nice today, so if I’m a bitch, I’m directing all complaints to your personal line because it’s your fault.” I lean against the reception counter.
Trent comes out of his office with no tie on and his own cup of coffee in his hand. He smirks at me in that smug, older-brother way. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Oh, bite me.” I glance at his shirt and note that he missed a button. “At least I’m dressed properly.”
“With yesterday’s underwear,” Drake points out.
“Because you wouldn’t let me change!”
“I was told to get here for important news. You’d yell if I didn’t bring you.”
I glare at him. I can’t be bothered to talk anymore. Plus, the early birds of the police department are already scared of my wrath. Mostly because they’re actually all petrified of Nonna, and there might be rumors about how passionate I get.
Because I don’t get angry. I get passionate.
I’m writing that on my tombstone.
“Oh good. You’re all here.” Sheriff Bates strolls into the room as though he’s slept for twenty-four hours, although he’s probably had the least of us.
Maybe you get used to less sleep as you get older… Or he’s happy because he knows he can have an afternoon nap.
I, however, have a business to run. Although I probably could sneak a nap in …
“Sorry to wake—Noelle, you don’t have a coffee?” He looks at the mugs the guys are holding then at my empty hands.
“I did.” I point at Drake’s mug.
“Nash! Be a gentleman and give the woman her coffee back. That’s an order. Now, step into my office.” He turns away.
I raise my eyebrow at Drake and hold my hand out. Reluctantly, he passes me the mug back.
“Thank you,” I said.
“He only said that because he’s scared of a Bond woman without coffee,” he mutters, pushing me toward the largest office on the ground floor, just behind the reception desk.
“No, he made you give it back because I’m cute,” I argue.
Drake pinches my butt, and I squeal.
“Yep. You’re real cute in your day-old panties.” He laughs low. “Nah, he’s scared of you when you get angry.”
“I do not get angry!” I say. Angrily.
“Yeah, yeah. I know, cupcake. You get passionate. And deluded.”
“I swear to God I will passionate your ass in a minute.”
His answering grin is sexy, and it hits me exactly how he took those words. Dammit. I know better than to banter with Drake before coffee. It pains me to say it, but sometimes, my words can be misconstrued because I don’t always think them through. Like what just happened.
I huff, drop myself onto the sofa in the corner of the room, and tuck my legs under me. Hopefully I didn’t flash my panties, because you guessed it, I’m in yesterday’s dress.
Ugh. Mike, Dean, or Carlton better have cupcakes waiting for me.
Once Trent and Drake—and, apparently, Brody, who’s back on active duty—have filed into the office, Sheriff Bates takes a seat at his desk. A long moment of silence passes as he rubs a strong yet wrinkled hand down his face and loosens his tie. His heavy exhale fills the room, a chill filling the air.
The early morning sun casts a hazy glow through the window, but there’s nothing bright about it.
“We have a positive ID on both bodies from the parents. Toni and Melissa. Tim completed the autopsy on Toni Thompson at around two a.m.,” he explains, looking at each of us with a level gaze. “We’re waiting on the results of the tests he ran, but before the full report comes back, he wants me to tell you that we’re looking at a murder of a religious type.”
“Religious?” Trent questions.
“Satanic,” Sheriff Bates confirms, pulling a manila envelope from beneath a folder. “The markings etched into Toni’s skin, particularly the inverted pentagram, are symbols used by those who worship Satan. There was also the inverted pentagram burned into the grass beneath both of their bodies.”
I swallow. Oh boy.
“Were they…awake?” I ask hesitantly.
“Somewhere in between. Tim found berries in Toni’s stomach that he believes to be belladonna, meaning she would have been hallucinating and delirious. That’s one of the things we’re waiting to hear a definitive answer on.”
“Raped?” Drake asks.
“It’s believed so,” Sheriff Bates answers quietly. “We’re going out on a ledge and assuming the same circumstances surround Melissa’s murder. We’ll know when Tim carries out her autopsy this morning, but Toni’s results should give us enough to go on for them both.”
“What are we telling the news stations?” Brody pipes up, perching next to me on the arm of the sofa.
“We’re telling them that we’ve found their bodies. That’s it.” He pushes his chair back and stands. Then he moves to the window, gripping the windowsill, his back to all of us. “I know nothing about Satanists. I doubt anyone in Holly Woods does, but by the injuries, we’re looking at two killers. One person would have one hell of a job pulling this off on their own. We have two bodies in one week, both irrevocably connected. It stands to reason that whoever did this could be planning to do it again.” His shoulders heave, and he slowly turns to face me. “And you’re wondering why you’re here.”
“I… Yeah. Kind of,” I admit.
“McDougall wants you on this,” he sighs. “He refused to leave last night unless I agreed. He said he’ll have a contract on your desk with the same terms as per your last case with us.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
What did I expect, really?
I cut my eyes to Drake and narrow them. He didn’t pull me here because he knew I’d bug him. He was told to bring me. He knew exactly what was going to happen. Fucking little shit. Total bastard.
He has the decency to look mildly ashamed. Good. Now, I’m glad I got my coffee back.
I drag my gaze away from him and back to Sheriff Bates. “I don’t see that I particularly have a choice, so fine. But I refuse to report to his lying ass.”
The sheriff’s lips twitch. “All reports to me, Ms. Bond. We’re all aware of your tempestuous relationship with McDougall.”
“All right,” I sigh.
“Now,” he says, moving back to his desk and leaning forward. “Here’s what I want y’all to do.”
“I’m not happy about this.”
I roll my eyes and slide Drake’s mug across his kitchen counter. We weren’t kept for much longer at the station, and those are the first words either of us has spoken since we walked out of Sheriff Bates’s office. Naturally, the good sheriff decided to partner me with Drake once more, because that worked so well last time.
“I mean it, Noelle,” Drake continues, taking the mug. “I told him that, too. I’m getting pretty pissed off with the mayor putting you in the middle of these investigations.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “Please. If he didn’t put me here, I’d find another route in.”
“Like getting Carlton to hack the server?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Exactly. You can’t keep me out. I have people.”
Drake shakes his head and puts the cup back down without taking a sip. “I don’t know what I find worse: that you’ve been tasked with finding a killer who’s obviously male and attacking women or that you have to research Satanism.”