Call Me Cat (Call Me Cat Trilogy #1)(29)

"Oh my God. Is he going to be okay?" I shivered, partly for Reynolds, partly because Detective Gray may have killed my parents.

"If he takes care of himself, he should be. Look, I need to apologize." He scratched at the scar over his eye. "I was an arrogant * the first time you came in. It was a hard day. A friend of mine was just killed on the job, and I had to tell his family. I wasn't in the mood to deal with a cold case, and I handled it poorly."

My attitude toward him softened, and I remembered something my mother always used to say. You never know what a person's going through. Someone who lashes out at others needs more understanding and kindness than anyone. I felt bad for how I'd treated him and my suspicions. "I'm sorry for your loss. And, sorry I was a bit of a snarky bitch."

He pushed the file toward us. "We know the killer was at the party. We've interviewed everyone who'd been present, and only one person has a criminal record."

My stomach clenched.

Gray pulled out a picture and showed us. "Ashton Davenport the Third."

"Isn't it possible that the murderer doesn't have a record?" I desperately didn't want Ash fingered for this. He couldn't be the killer. I'd know if it was him. I'd recognize his eyes, or his touch, something.

"It is. But the level of escalation this guy has shown makes it unlikely. Most people don't start by killing a family," he said.

"Right. They start small. Animal torture, acting out in other ways," I said, recalling my criminal psych classes.

"So for him to make it to adulthood with multiple murders under his belt and no arrests is possible—"

"But unlikely," I finished.

Bridgette flipped through the file, then put it down. "What if the killer isn't on the list?"

We both looked at her.

"What if he snuck in, or someone attended without an official invitation. It's possible none of these people are the killer," she said, tapping the list with a pink fingernail.

Detective Gray nodded. "We've considered that, which makes our job particularly difficult. I need each of you to go through the list, mark anyone you know, make a note about anyone who might be suspicious, and see if you can remember anyone at the party who isn't on this list."

Having already gone through something similar at home, we turned in our notes quickly, hopeless that this would help.

Gray reviewed everything and frowned. "You don't remember anyone not on the list?"

"I don't know most of these people," I said. "So there could have been someone there who wasn't supposed to be, and I wouldn't know it."

Bridgette nodded. "I know most everyone, but I don't remember anyone unusual. However, I'd been drugged, so I'm not sure my memory is the most reliable. Have you talked to my parents?"

"Yes," he said. "We got nothing."

"Can you fingerprint the place?" I asked. "Run it through your database to see if there's a match with someone we didn't expect."

He shook his head. "We don't have the man-power for that. Besides, given the size of the house and number of people in and out, and the limited nature of our database, it wouldn't yield the results you're hoping for."

Frustrated, I stood and paced. "So there's nothing we can do?"

"There is one thing. I'd like to tap your phone in case he calls you again. We can try tracing him if he does."

Oh crap. "Um, sure, but then there's something you should know."

One embarrassing conversation later and Bridgette and I left the office, me with the horror of knowing my phone sex calls would be recorded by the police department who now knew my deepest secret.

When we left the building, Ash pulled up on his motorcycle, putting it in park and taking off his helmet.

Bridgette excused herself when she saw him. "I'll go wait in the car. Take your time."

"Hi," we both said at the same time when he walked up.

"How are you?" he asked, his eyes sad.

"I'm okay." All I could think about was our last call, when we'd come together in amazing phone sex.

"Bradley died," he said.

"I know." I rested my hand on his arm. "I'm sorry about what I said in the hospital. I didn't mean it. You saved my best friend and did nothing wrong."

"I killed a man, Catelyn. That's not nothing." He pulled his arm away and stepped back.

"It doesn't matter. Not to me. Not to us. I just… " My mouth went dry. "I'd like that dinner date, if the offer is still on the table."

He shook his head and my heart sank. "You were right. We don't belong together. It would never work. You're going to be a great lawyer, Catelyn. You deserve better than the likes of me."

"I get to decide what I deserve." I pulled him toward me and kissed him with all the unspent passion building inside of me. At first he resisted, but then his body took over and he pressed me against him, the leather of his jacket rubbing against my exposed skin as my shirt rode up my back.

My knees felt week and my heart beat so loud in my chest I knew he could feel it. His mouth consumed mine, and our lips bruised each other with raw need. His cock pushed against his jeans, and I wanted so badly to fulfill all of our fantasies, to do every spoken and unspoken thing we'd imagined in our call. I rubbed my hand against him, feeling his cock twitch, and he pulled away from me, breathless and wild-eyed.