“He’s in there,” she whispered back. “He’s in there and he’s been lying to me, and scaring the ever-loving crap out of me!”
“I know he’s in there,” he said stepping between her and the door, using his body to chivvy her against the railing. “I’m going in first.”
“Stop doing that,” she said, shoving at his shoulders.
In any other situation, he’d move, give ground, be respectful of her personal space, her body. But when they’d seen Chris’s dot in Lancaster, every instinct in his body shut down except one. Protect Cady at all costs. “Be quiet,” he said, low and dangerous, as he reached for his gun.
At the quiet snap of his holster releasing his Glock Cady went utterly still and lifted her hands from his back, respecting, if nothing else, the fact that there was now a loaded gun in play. He took a second to call up the office layout from his previous visits to Eye Candy. Another door on the opposite wall opened into the tiny apartment Eve lived in before moving in with Matt earlier in the fall. Behind Eve’s office door came Chris’s voice like Conn had never heard it, soft, quiet, without his usual hint of arrogance and posturing. It didn’t sound like a guy talking during sex, thank God. It sounded intimate. Kind of sweet. Conn almost hated to interrupt, except Chris was probably a serial killer, using his itinerant profession as a cover for multiple murders around the world, and was now murmuring endearments in Natalie’s ear while he carved her up like a chicken.
He took a single step across the landing and thudded his fist against the door. “Police. Open up!” he called, weight shifting to his left so he could kick the door in if Chris made a run for it.
“Conn?” Natalie said. “Is that you?”
It was really hard to be taken seriously when the individuals knew you by voice. “Open the door, Natalie,” he said.
Silence, then the door flung open to reveal Natalie in 80s punk/goth mode. Black leather everywhere, black Joan Jett hair, and blue eyeliner. She cracked her gum at Conn. “Hello, Shoulders,” she said.
Conn used his shoulders to barge into the office and look around. Chris was sitting on the sofa, one arm stretched along the back, the other on the arm, glaring daggers at Conn. “Nice to see you again, Officer McCormick,” he said blandly. “I assume Cady’s with you?”
Cady pushed past him, into the office, and glared at Chris. “What are you doing here?” she said, exasperated, annoyed, afraid.
“Having a delightful conversation with Natalie,” he said promptly. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to figure out what you’re doing here!” Cady took a deep breath. “You said you were going home.”
“I did. Then I came back.”
“To Lancaster?”
“As you see,” Chris said. “Is that really necessary?” he added, glancing meaningfully at Conn’s weapon.
Conn could handle drunks, drug dealers, thugs, pimps, and prostitutes. While chasing down suspects he’d tripped over cracks in the concrete, racked himself climbing over fences, and on one memorable occasion, knocked himself out cold falling down a flight of stairs in an abandoned warehouse. He’d been kicked, hit, spit on, and sworn at so much he all but sat up and looked around when someone yelled Hey motherfucker in his vicinity. None of it, not a single second in the academy, or his follow-up training, or his real-world experience that prepared him for dealing with Chris Wellendorf.
Lacking the presence of either a threat or a fleeing suspect, Conn holstered his weapon, folded his arms across his chest, and squared up. Chris all but rolled his eyes.
Cady took over. “I’m serious, Chris. You hate this town. You called Lancaster a one-horse shit-kicking ghost town in the middle of fucking nowhere and swore the only time you’d set foot here was when I gave a concert.”
“It’s growing on me,” Chris said. He was talking to Cady but looking at Natalie as he spoke. She gave him a little finger wave. “There’s a great music scene here. The people are nice. Friendly.”
Conn had never heard Chris use that soft, endearing tone of voice; based on the way Cady stared at him like he’d grown a second head, she’d never heard it, either. “You were right,” she said to Conn. “He’s acting really, really weird. Are you on crack? You’ve got to stop being on crack.”
“Not even remotely,” Chris said, smiling like an idiot. He dragged his attention away from Natalie, and focused on Conn. He could see the moment the wheels in Chris’s brain gained some traction. “May I presume from Officer Tall, Dark, and Brooding’s heavily armed presence that you attribute a more nefarious purpose to my vacation in Lancaster?”
His tone of voice was incredulous until his gaze met Conn’s. “Start taking this seriously or we’re going to step outside.”