Cordy turned to face her partner, aghast at what she’d just heard. Was this joker serious? Amelia saw the exchanged glance and rushed to explain.

  “He doesn’t mean that,” she said quickly, smacking Khaleesi on the shoulder, “Devonte doesn’t have a filter. He just means that the killer appears to see himself as a vigilante, and is making the victims pay for the crimes they committed.”

  Khaleesi sipped his soda and nodded. “What she said.”

  Cordy and Gibson shared another look. Gibson knew his partner well, and could see that this was going to be a difficult cooperation. Cordy was an easy person to get along with, but once in a while, she would come cross someone she just couldn’t stand. It seemed to Gibson, that Detective Devonte Khaleesi would be one of those people.

  “What do you have on your vic?” Gibson asked, hoping that Amelia would be the one to do all the talking.

  “Cheryl Kessler,” Amelia said, flipping open the file beside her, “thirty-nine, single, lives in one of those month-to-month motels over in South Marilynn. Hasn’t exactly been a girl scout. She’s got an extensive rap sheet, mostly petty crimes, with a few solicitation charges scattered throughout.”

  “A Couple of years ago, she was arrested for selling her niece to a drug dealer. Kid was only twelve. Ended up being brutalized by the dealer for weeks. The guy pumped her full of heroin, and dropped her at the ER, thinking she OD’d. She’s alive, but has been in and out of rehab ever since.”

  Cordy let out a disgusted sigh and shook her head. She couldn’t stand hearing about kids being victimized. It infuriated her to no end, the things people did to children. Unfortunately, in her line of work, she saw it all too often.

  “The niece told police what her aunt did, and Cheryl managed to deal out with the D.A. She rolled over on the dealer, helped put him away for the murder of another dealer, and walked away Scott-free,” Amelia wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  “I’m going to see Lita when we’re done here,” Cordy said, handing her credit card to the waitress, “either of you care to join?”

  Khaleesi paled visibly and choked on his drink, a sight that made Cordy smirk. Khaleesi’s mulatto complexion had turned green, making him look like a cartoon character ready to puke. His muscular build, and tough-guy posture, were quite intimidating.

  But, seeing the visible struggle not to lose the lunch he’d just inhaled, brought that intimidation factor down a few notches.

  “Hard pass,” he coughed, swiping the soda from his leather jacket, “I’ll go back to the station and update Baxter. Relay all the info you gave us, and see what he wants us to do next. Arroyo can go with you, she’s nuts about the morgue.”

  Cordy and Gibson slid out of their booth. “I’ll go talk to Brandon, then see if CSU has anything for us on the Durfee case,” Gibson said.

  Cordy nodded and bid farewell to the men. Once Arroyo was ready, the two women left the restaurant and turned left, heading in the opposite direction of their partners.

  While Davonte Khaleesi drove back to Marilynn, and Gibson went across the street to the Falls City Police Department, Cordy and Amelia Arroyo walked the two blocks to the County Medical Examiner’s Office.

  Falls City is the smallest town in the area, boasting a paltry 647 residents. The town didn’t even have a gas station or a stop light. There was a volunteer fire station, a post office, a small family-owned grocery store, a bar, and a restaurant. Had it not been for a collaborative effort between the city of Marilynn and Polk County, the small town wouldn’t even have a police force.

  Twenty years earlier, a decision had been made to build a police station in Falls City, to help decrease response times. Prior to the decision, anytime the police were needed, the Polk County Sheriff’s Office would respond. Unfortunately, because the Sheriff’s office was located on the far outskirts of Marilynn, this meant a minimum of thirty minutes before an officer would arrive.

  After a homeless man was found murdered in the city’s small park, by a first-grade class doing a community clean-up project, the residents of the town came together to demand their own police force. It took some time, but after reaching an agreement with the town, in which the police force would take over jurisdiction for some of the other tiny towns nearby, the county agreed to provide the funding.

  Now, thanks to that agreement, the Falls City Police Department served not only the residents of Falls City, but also those of Ellendale, Oakdale, and Cooper’s Hollow; all towns of less than a thousand people. This helped alleviate some of the burden on the Polk County Sheriff’s office.

  A year earlier, when Lita Vasquez took over as the Chief County Medical Examiner, she insisted that she be based out of Falls City. Only a handful of people knew how she did it, but the beautiful young Latina managed to secure the funds needed to build a whole new morgue, right there in Falls City.

  “How long have you and Price been partners?” Amelia asked, as she and Cordy walked toward the morgue.

  “Ten years, but we’ve been friends for eighteen,” Cordy replied, “How about you and Khaleesi?”

  Amelia heard the dislike in the redhead’s tone, and moved to assuage it. “Five. Don’t let Devonte’s attitude sway your judgement of him. He may not have a brain-to-mouth barrier, but he really is a great guy.”

  “He’s got an amazing heart, and his compassion is astounding. He volunteers with Big Brothers/Big Sisters in Salem, heads a community garden project, and volunteers as a counselor at the Callie Rae Baxter Center. His husband works for the CRBC, as an out-reach coordinator, and Devonte is always helping with the soup kitchen’s they sponsor.”

  Cordy stopped in front of the double glass doors of the morgue. She tilted her head as she digested the new information about Khaleesi.

  “Huh,” she said, holding the door for Arroyo, “My wife volunteers at the CRBC main office in Marilynn. My gaydar must be off. Never would have suspected Khaleesi played on our team.”

  Amelia laughed. She’d been surprised herself, to find out that her tough-guy partner was gay.

  “Our team, huh?” she teased, following Cordy’s lead through the maze of hallways, “You mean you don’t go home to a Mr. Weston at night? And what makes you think I’m gay?”

  Cordy’s smile lit up her face. “Nope, no Mr. Weston. There is, however, a stunningly beautiful Mrs. Weston waiting for me every night. And, it was obvious by the way you were drooling over the waitress.”

  Amelia pushed down the disappointment she felt at hearing that Cordy was married. She’d immediately been enamored of the redhead, and her desire to ask the woman out on a date had been incredibly strong. Thank God, she hadn’t asked yet.

  “Well, Mrs. Weston is a lucky woman,” Amelia said, as the pair reached the heavy metal door to the autopsy suite, “That waitress has a great ass,” she added dreamily.

  “I’m the lucky one,” Cordy chuckled, “If you ever meet my wife, you will understand.”

  “Hey,” Lita said loudly as the pair entered, “If you’re going to start sharing Jenica, I got first dibs.”

  Cordy snorted and introduced her companion. “Amelia Arroyo, meet Dr. Lita Vasquez. Lita, Detective Arroyo is from the Marilynn PD. We’re here about her vic from last night.”

  Lita nodded and handed over a clipboard and sealed evidence bag. “I finished the post-mortem a little while ago. Was just about to call over to have the evidence picked up. Thanks for saving me the hassle.”

  Amelia signed the chain-of-custody forms, and tucked the evidence bag into her satchel. She did her best to keep her demeanor professional, but one look at the Latin Goddess before her, made it difficult to keep her eyes from roaming.

  “Rundown?” Cordy prompted, her own eyes scanning the report as she spoke.

  Lita sighed and crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against one of the cold metal tables.

  “Despite the copious track mark scars, your vic was clean. No sign of recent drug use. The cuts on her were a little different than with the other victims, though. Instead of random, shallow cuts, hers were centered around her breasts. Slices on the outside of each breast, as well as a bold incision across the expanse of her chest.”

  Cordy and Amelia glanced at each other. Lita snickered and elaborated.

  “Basically, the killer used one firm stroke to completely bisect the victim’s chest. Both breasts were divided through the nipple, with one slice.”

  Lita smothered a laugh when she noted two sets of nipples harden. Amelia shifted uncomfortably and crossed her arms over her chest. Cordy was much more obvious in her discomfort. She brought her hands to her breasts and rubbed them.

  “Fucking ouch,” she grumbled.

  “COD is the same as the other victims; exsanguination from a wound to the throat. Found what looks like an eight-ball of heroin, fifty dollars, a photograph, and a cell phone in the wound.”

  “Fifty bucks?” Cordy said with confusion.

  “Fifty dollars and an eight-ball, is what she sold her niece for,” Amelia supplied.

  “Anything else?” Cordy asked.

  Lita shook her head. “Nope. I was hoping to find some trace from the killer, but there was nothing. Whoever The Confessor is, he knows what he’s doing.”

  ***

  “Honey, I’m home,” Cordy called out as she stepped through the door. Instead of the usual greeting, the detective was met with silence. With a frown, Cordy tossed her keys on the small table beside the door, and went in search of her wife.

  She peeked into the kitchen, Jenica’s usual hiding spot, and smiled when she spied the woman of her dreams through the sliding glass door.

  Jenica was sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs in the yard. The chair was reclined back, allowing the sun to blanket her body, while her head remained safely in the shade. Cordy stood at the door, her breath catching at the sight.

  Jenica’s lithe body was nude, except for a rectangle of gauze, an inch or so below her navel. Cordy chuckled. She didn’t understand why her wife insisted on covering the tattoo when she sunbathed, especially since she’d gotten it five years earlier, as an anniversary gift to Cordy.

  Reserved for Cordelia Weston was scrawled across the top of Jenica’s pubis, barely hidden beneath her waistband when dressed.

  Cordy loved the tattoo on her wife, especially because of the implication behind it. During their first intimate encounter, Cordy had made a lewd comment about oral sex, prompting Jenica to respond by asking if she had a reservation.

  Arousal shot through Cordy when Jenica shifted, bending one knee to reveal her most private of places. As quietly as she could, Cordy slid the door open and tiptoed down the porch stairs. She eased her way through the grass, and stood beside the chair.

  She gazed down at the body she knew so well, her eyes greedily devouring every inch of exposed flesh.

  “I can feel you molesting me with your eyes,” Jenica said with a smile, her eyes still closed.

  “You keep laying like that, I’m going to be molesting you with more than my eyes,” Cordy retorted as she sat on the chair beside Jenica’s tanned legs.

  “Not unless you want to give the neighbors another show,” Jenica said, her voice low and seductive as she shifted her legs to surround Cordy.

  Cordy chuckled and accepted the kiss that Jenica offered. “I think Mrs. Sellers enjoyed the last show a little more than she let on. She blushes every time I look at her.”

  “How was work? Did my big, bad cop arrest any baddies today?” Jenica reclined back and arched in a stretch.

  Cordy’s eyes glued themselves to Jenica’s perky nipples. She licked her lips as she watched the dark circles surrounding the buds become darker.

  She wanted so much to lean down and lave them with attention. Just as she was about to act on the impulse, Jenica tapped on her knee.

  “Sweetheart?” Jenica snapped her fingers and laughed when Cordy groaned. “Love, as much as I enjoy watching you drool over me, I’m going to need you to move. I need to mimi.”

  Cordy smiled at Jenica’s aversion to saying pee. She hung her head and let out a dramatic sigh. Reluctantly, she got to her feet and held her hand out to help her wife up.

  “Always shooting me down,” she teased, “I guess the warnings were true. Ten years of marriage, and lesbian bed death has overtaken us.”

  Jenica barked out a laugh as she made a beeline for the house. “Like we only have sex in the bed,” she called over her shoulder.

  Cordy grinned and made her way back into the house. While her wife availed herself of the facilities, Cordy opened the oven and inhaled the succulent aromas baking within.

  “You’re baking pork and puha?” Cordy asked, when Jenica returned to the kitchen.

  “No, love. You don’t bake a boil-up, I’m just keeping it warm in there,” Jenica replied, as she slid her arms around Cordy from behind.

  Cordy loved pork and puha. A traditional Maori dish, the pork pot roast-style meal had been the first she’d eaten with her future in-laws.

  Made with pork tenderloin, puha, kumara, onion, and tomatoes simmered in chicken and pork stock, Cordy had immediately moved the dish to the top of her favorites list. Once she’d discovered that puha was the Maori word for watercress, and kumara was a sweet potato, she’d liked the dish even more. Those were two of her favorite vegetables.

  “What’s the occasion?” Cordy asked suspiciously. Jenica knew the dish was Cordy’s favorite. While it didn’t take a long time to make, she usually only served it as a treat.

  Jenica sighed deeply and pressed a kiss to the back of Cordy’s neck. “I’ve a business trip to attend, at the end of next month,” she explained vaguely.

  Cordy turned within her wife’s embrace and tipped the woman’s chin. “Business trip to where?” she asked.

  Jenica averted her eyes. She hated being away from Cordy, and hated even more that this trip would be longer than any other she’d taken.

  “Los Angeles,” she answered, tugging her lip between her teeth.

  Cordy leaned forward and captured Jenica’s lips in a gentle kiss. She always found the sight of Jenica’s lip between her teeth incredibly endearing. “When, and for how long?”

  Jenica released Cordy and stepped to the oven to remove their supper. “I’ll be leaving the last Sunday evening, and returning Saturday morning.”

  Cordy stopped with her hand outstretched toward the cupboard that held the bowls. “A week?” she asked, incredulously, “You’re going to be gone for a week?”

  Jenica set the crock on the stove and turned apologetic eyes on her beloved wife. “I’m sorry, love. Mrs. Walker is sending all the head floor nurses to attend a nursing conference.”

  Cordy groaned and set the bowls on the table. “Why?” she asked, her voice thin and whiny.

  Jenica smiled and set about serving the meal. “Because, sweetheart, I’m the head of the Comfort Care floor. We need to be kept abreast of the newest federal standards in nursing. This conference covers every aspect of nursing care in an assisted living environment.”

  Cordy dropped into her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. She understood that, as the head of the department, Jenica had certain obligations to see to. She didn’t have to like it, though.

  “Why doesn’t your boss go?” she pouted.

  Jenica placed a bowl in front of Cordy, before claiming her own seat. “Because, aroha, Mrs. Walker has an entire facility to run. Her wife is going to the conference, as the facility physician, but Mrs. Walker is not a nurse. I’m honored to do it, Cordy.”

  Cordy sighed heavily and started on her soup. “I know you are, babe, I just don’t like it when you’re away. I don’t sleep well without you.”

  Jenica smiled and reached across the table to rest her hand on Cordy’s arm. “I know sweetheart, and I don’t do well without you, either. But, I’ll be home in no time. And just think,” she added with a coy smile, “We’ll have a week to make up for when I get home.”

  Cordy beamed and wiggled her eyebrows. “You’re right,” she said, her voice deep and sultry, “but, I have a better idea.”

  Jenica tilted her head quizzically. “What do you mean?” she asked innocently, batting her long eyelashes.

  “We’ve got five and a half weeks until you leave. Maybe, if we try hard enough, we can get you all set to last a whole week without me.”

  ***

  “Glad you could make it, Weston,” Captain Brandon said as Cordy rushed into the squad room.

  “Sorry, Cap, couldn’t find my cuffs,” Cordy explained with a smirk, as she joined the others for the morning briefing.

  “I knew it,” Lasco said to his partner, his voice a loud whisper, “I knew Weston must be using something to keep hold of that hottie. Should have known she was holding the poor woman hostage.”

  Cordy kicked the back of Lasco’s chair. “Eat me, Lasco. You’re just jealous, because you’ll never land a woman of her caliber.”

  Lasco’s face reddened and he whipped his head around to sneer at Cordy. “Fuck you, Weston. Everyone knows the Kiwi only married you for her green card.”

  Gibson’s cat-like reflexes were the only thing that kept Cordy’s fist from smashing into Lasco’s face. Murphy grabbed his partner’s shirt and yanked Lasco away from the enraged redhead.

  “Say one more thing about my wife, Lasco, and I’ll rip out your throat!” Cordy seethed, her voice shaking as she struggled against Gibson’s tight hold on her.

  “Enough!” Brandon barked, “Weston, Lasco, my office, now.” With an irritated growl, the Captain dismissed his squad, and stormed toward his office.

  “Dammit, Cordy, he’s just trying to get your goat,” Gibson lamented as he positioned himself between his partner and her nemesis.

  “He needs to keep the topic of my wife out of his slimy mouth,” Cordy grumbled, her eyes narrowed as they walked toward Brandon’s open door.

  Gibson patted her on the shoulder and went to his desk. Murphy escorted Lasco into the office, and stopped at Gibson’s desk on the way back to his own.

  “Sorry about that, Price,” Murphy offered, “Lasco went too far. Teasing and taunting is one thing, but to outright insult someone like that? I hope Cap kicks his ass for it.”