His words shut her down. They were a confession. Certainly for the death of Tiffany Lloyd. Most likely for the death of his own daughter, also.
“And do you have any clue what the piece de resistance is?” He waved a hand in the air, negating the need for an answer. “The best thing is that my name will never come up. No one will ever know.” He smiled. “Except you.”
In the end, a killer always has to brag. It would be Bud Traynor’s downfall. She would gather every piece of evidence, dissect the most minute clues, and remember each incriminating word he ever said. “One day. When you’re not expecting it. I’ll make you pay for what you did to both of them.”
His brow went up. “Why, Max? This is what I find so fascinating about you. Your irrational need for revenge. Why do you care so much about some whoring slut you never laid eyes on?”
He could have been talking about his daughter or his hairdresser. He probably meant both.
“That’s the difference between us.” She jabbed the air with her index finger. “I care about justice for dead whores. You care about nothing.”
He placed a hand on his chest. “You wound me deeply. I care about you.”
“You care about bringing me to my knees.”
“Quite literally, Max. And when you’re down there, I’m going to shove my cock down your throat, and you’ll love swallowing every last drop of come.” His eyes shone, and he made no effort to hide the bulge in his pants.
“I never touched her,” he said, his voice so low she had to strain to hear the words, “except to place her head exactly where I wanted it. I didn’t beat her to death. I wasn’t there when it happened.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, kept his tone low, mesmerizing. “But I know how it was done. When. Where. Every detail you’d sell your soul to know. I can tell you, Max.”
“Who?” she whispered.
“What’s it worth to you?”
God, yes, she wanted, needed, had to know who killed Tiffany. The dead woman would never rest, never leave her alone, never get out of her mind and her body, not until her murderer was found.
But could she bear Traynor’s price?
“I see your mind working. You’re asking yourself if I’d tell you if you fucked me. Would you, Max? If you were sure I’d tell you everything, would you fuck me? Would you take it up the ass? What exactly would you do?”
If she knew for sure? If she could trust him? Her mind whirled with her thoughts.
One fuck, Max. One short, mindless fuck. You’ve done it so many times before to gain so little. What have you got to lose?
What had she got to lose? Her soul.
Bud had admitted it. He had every detail she’d sell her soul to know.
“I won’t fuck you for it, Traynor. Because you aren’t worth it.” The game ended with those words.
His laughter followed her out the front door.
She started running when her tennies hit the dewy grass. She slipped, slid a foot or two, then fell to her knees, losing the DVD and her flashlight on the lawn. She grabbed both, scrambled to her feet, and ran again.
She wouldn’t fuck him because she didn’t trust him to tell her what she needed to know. But neither she nor Tiffany could rest until she knew the whole truth.
At the door of her car, she fumbled in her pockets for the keys. Then she was safe inside. Windows up. Doors locked tight, she could finally breathe again. Dropping the flashlight and the disk on the seat beside her, she noticed it wasn’t a prerecorded DVD. Picking it up, she brushed the dew and grass off against her sweatshirt, turned it over, then back up. There were no markings on it, just a DVD +R. Traynor must have recorded something, but what?
She started the engine. Shoving the stick into gear, she yanked the wheel to the left and took off without even looking over her shoulder. Nor did she look back, as if she were afraid he was a demon with wings and could follow her.
“You’re gonna kill yourself driving this way,” Cameron murmured in the darkened car.
The tires squealed as she entered the freeway ramp too fast. “Just where the hell were you when I needed you back there?”
“I was with you.”
“Why didn’t you damn well get me out then?” She down-shifted at the end of the on-ramp, sped across three lanes of traffic, and whipped out in front of a slow-moving Lexus.
“You got yourself out. And slow down.”
She didn’t.
“Well, thanks for no help. I could have used a soothing little comment or two while Tiffany attempted to take over my body.”
“Tiffany?”
“Yeah, raging hormonal, sexual Tiffany. She would have done him right there if she could have.”
“Are you sure it was Tiffany?”
“Of course it was.” She answered too quickly and knew it. She backtracked to try to save herself. “I don’t have one whit of attraction for that man. I hate him.”
Cameron was silent.
“What’s that supposed to mean?
“I didn’t say anything.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. You didn’t say anything. That means you think I’m lying to myself.”
Again. He was silent.