“What about other cases you’ve worked on?”
“I’ve gone back through years of records. But I trust my memory even better than I trust a computer. If Otterman had ever been a blip on my radar screen, I would remember the name. If not the name, the man. I’m dead sure of that.”
“So maybe it isn’t him,” she said. “Maybe he just told Neal he’d seen you with Rodriguez to spite you. Having it reported that he’d left after the shooting had to have been embarrassing for him.”
He gave a hard shake of his head. “He’s not wired that way. He was pissed, but by no stretch embarrassed.”
They lapsed into a thoughtful silence, then she said quietly, “I don’t even want to suggest this. It’s so egregious that I hesitate to—”
“You’re thinking Joe.”
Her shoulders sagged a bit, letting him know that he’d guessed correctly. “He wouldn’t do this, would he?”
“Come here. I want to show you something.” Taking her hand, he led her through the dark house to the door of Georgia’s bedroom. He used the screen of his phone for illumination. “I think you can see well enough without more light.”
She expelled a breath of disbelief. “What happened?”
“Neal didn’t tell you about this?”
“No. My God, Crawford.”
“It was this way when I got home last night. Everything was new. The makeover was going to be a surprise.”
“Did you file a police report?”
“The whole shebang. They dusted for prints this morning, so it looks even worse than it did. I haven’t had a chance to start the cleanup.”
She went into the room and did a slow pivot, making small sounds of remorse as she assessed the destruction. She picked up the sparkly ballet slippers, the bands of which had been ripped off. “Who would do such a thing?”
“The same person who sent me that video of Georgia on the swing, looking so angelic, innocent, vulnerable. I haven’t quite recovered from that yet.” Every time he thought about it, his blood vessels throbbed with a combination of fury and terror. “Some sick fuck used my little girl to get to me. I want to kill him.”
“How can Neal Lester possibly account for this?”
“He suggested that I did it myself.”
“And texted yourself the park video?”
“I guess.”
She placed the slippers on what was left of the dressing table and rejoined him in the hallway. “I don’t believe your father-in-law would do any of this.”
“He’s told me he’ll do whatever it takes to keep Georgia. Or, more to the point, to prevent me from having her. But, honestly,” he said, gazing back into the room, “this doesn’t fit Joe’s profile.” He clicked off his phone and replaced it on his belt.
“What are you going to do?”
“Wait on Harry and Sessions. See what turns up.”
“What if Neal arrests you in the meantime?”
“His cover-your-ass MO is working in my favor now. He won’t detain me till he has something to go on.”
“So you wait.”
“And do what I’ve wanted to do since you got here.”
He slid his fingers up into her hair until his hands were closed around her head, then he tilted it and brushed his mouth across hers. “A word of caution, judge. Don’t show up at my back door looking like you do unless you want to get manhandled.” After thoroughly kissing her mouth, he moved to her neck, gently sucking her skin, tasting the saltiness of her sweat.
“Crawford…”
The moaned admonishment was so halfhearted, he continued, kissing his way past her collarbone to her breast. He nuzzled the tip through the damp cloth of her t-shirt.
She exhaled a sharp breath. “I woke up this morning dreaming about it.”
He gently cupped her other breast. “Good dream?”
“Sinfully good.”
“Holly Spencer, bad girl.”
“I think you must be right. The dream was exactly as it happened. I was eager, and you were very…decisive.”
The smile he felt in his heart never quite reached his lips because they were lowering to hers. “I had to be inside you. Just had to be.”
He kissed her like she was a bad girl, taking her mouth with heat and hunger. He slid his hand past the small of her back into her jeans and, feeling nothing but smooth skin, palmed her ass and tilted her up against his fly. “All this would feel so much better without clothes on.”
To his disappointment, she pushed against his chest, creating space between them, and turned her head aside. “You don’t want to kiss me like this, Crawford.”
“Hell you talking about? I want to kiss you all over.” Each time she turned aside, his mouth followed hers. “I want to French kiss you all over.” He withdrew his hand from the seat of her jeans and moved it around to her front, sliding it between her thighs and caressing her through the soft denim. “Here.”
She stifled a groan of pleasure but pushed his hand away.