Page 5 of Tell Me Your Desires

“I thought this shit was illegal,” she grumbled as she stopped behind her partner. Max was currently kneeling next to a body covered with a white sheet. They must have processed the scene.

“We’re not in Reno, Baros,” Max said gruffly. “Brothels are legal here.”

Jaime frowned. Had she been so out of it driving here that she didn’t notice leaving city limits? “Then what the hell are we doing here? Let the local yahoos take care of it.”

“Jaime.”

“No! They don’t deserve to die, but this ain’t our problem.”

Max stood abruptly. “Jesus Christ, Jaime! Show some fucking respect.”

“What? I said they didn’t deserve it. But this is out of our jurisdiction. The body has already been processed. Why are we here?”

“The victim,” Max ground out, “hasn’t been processed. They covered it out of decency.”

“So, they fucked up the crime scene?”

Jaime hadn’t expected Max to whirl on her, his hand bunched up in the front of her shirt. Her breath left her in a whoosh when her back smacked the coroner’s van.

“I know what fucking day it is, Jaime, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you’re not just being an insensitive asshole. But just this once. You got your digs in. Now fucking get your mind in the game. We’re here because she’s one of ours.”

Jaime knew she fucked up the moment Max stopped being the mild-mannered partner she was used to being around.

She couldn’t blame him. Her lousy attitude, along with this location, caused her to feel and say things that weren’t becoming of a homicide detective.

Jaime’s job—no matter where she was—was to stand for the poor souls who couldn’t stand for themselves.

It didn’t matter who the victim was. She cleared her throat and wrapped her hand around Max’s wrist.

“Back off, Fraser.” Jaime knew Max was right, but she sure as hell wouldn’t let him get away with treating her like this in front of the uniforms without some pushback.

“You gonna give a shit and do your job?” Max countered, his eyes not so soft and understanding today.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Jaime brushed the wrinkles out of her shirt as soon as Max let go.

She lowered her head, giving a fleeting look to those surrounding them.

They were all staring, but they returned to their jobs as soon as she lifted her head to look them square in the eye.

“What do you mean, she’s one of ours? She’s not in Reno. ”

Max jerked his head at the body. “Take a look.”

Jaime hiked her pants and kneeled next to the body, careful not to touch any of the blood surrounding it. That wasn’t an easy feat, considering it looked like most of the victim’s blood was outside of where it should be. With a gloved hand, she gingerly lifted the sheet.

“Fuck.” As with the others, the eyes were missing, and the mouth taped shut. Whore had been written across the duct tape in blood. If this really was like the others—five in total now—that blood was the victim’s. “Hands?”

“Gone. And she’s naked like the others.”

“Mutilated like the others as well?” Jaime asked as she replaced the sheet and silently apologized for her earlier judgment. Max was right. She needed to get her head in the game.

“Yep.”

“She’s young,” Jaime murmured. It was an unnecessary statement to anyone around them, but the reality of it hit Jaime hard. This woman was about the age Taylor was when…

“Twenty-five,” Max provided. “Today is her birthday.”

Jaime’s head snapped up. “What? How did you know that? Do you know her?”

Max shook his head. “They found her purse tossed in the alley. Money, credit cards, and ID were still in there.”

Jaime stood. “Checks with the others. Nothing of theirs was taken either.”

“Just their lives.”

Jaime winced. “Right.” The MO was checking out. A brutally violent death, an overly sexual pose, and nothing stolen. Except for their lives. But what did this young woman have in common with the others? “Where’s the purse?”

Max nodded at the crime scene investigators. “CSI has it. They won’t let—”

Jaime didn’t stick around to hear what CSI would and wouldn’t let her do. She was going to look at the contents of that purse before anyone else put their hands on it. Jaime thought about the other cases as she made her way over to the investigators. They were all weighing on her conscience.

The first was a forty-eight-year-old woman with light skin, brown eyes, and brown hair. Well-groomed, affluent… educated. In fact, their investigation showed the woman, Mary McCall, was a well-known chef in Vegas. Mary resided in Vegas, but her body was found in Reno. Jaime’s domain.

Victim number two, Julie Brewer, was a thirty-five-year-old Reno resident.

She had dark skin, grey hair, and brown eyes.

They checked. There was no evidence that Julie had ever met Mary or gone to Mary’s restaurant in Vegas.

They didn’t run in the same circles. They weren’t even in the same tax bracket.

Yet, they both had their lives cut short by the same person. Jaime was sure of that.

The third victim, Brenda Barrera, was a fifty-six-year-old retired personal trainer.

She had olive skin, black hair, and hazel eyes.

While Brenda lived comfortably, nothing in the investigation showed she knew any of the other victims. Not professionally or personally.

Still, she was killed in the same fashion as the others.

Victim number four, Veronica Paul, was forty-five.

She had blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes.

She worked as a real estate agent in Reno and the surrounding area.

Jaime’s investigation showed no contact with any of the other victims. They weren’t clients or friends.

Veronica’s family said that despite Veronica’s occupation, she was an introvert, preferring to spend time at home by herself rather than out with friends or a companion.

“Hey! I need to see those contents!” Jaime yelled, running toward a technician with CSI printed on the back of his jacket.

“We’re taking them in to be processed.”

“Yeah, I get that. But I need to look at them first.”

“Sorry, they’ve already been bagged. We can’t break the chain of custody.”

The young tech walked away, and Jaime grabbed him by the arm.

“Listen, you can stand there and watch me look at this stuff. I don’t give a fuck. But I am going to look at it. This is the fifth murder like this, and if there’s something in there that can help me solve this….”

“We’ll find it if there is,” the tech said with an attitude.

Jaime was done with this. Women were dying. She didn’t give a shit what this glorified lackey wanted to do. She just wanted to look at the contents. “Give me the fucking bag, you little prick. Or I’ll make sure this is the last crime scene you’re ever on.”

“Y-you can’t do that.”

Not so fucking pompous now, are you, you fucking unfrosted pop tart. “I can. And I will. How long have you been on the job, kid?”

“Six months.”

Jaime snorted with laughter. “And you’re already this self-important?

It usually takes CSI at least nine months.

” She took a menacing step toward him. This probably would have been easier if she had been nice about it.

But this was the fifth murder from some maniac that’d had the ability to remain at large.

She held her hand out and wiggled her fingers.

“I’m not going to mess with your precious baggies, okay?

I just need a quick look at the contents, then you can be on your merry little way. ”

The tech sighed. “Fine, but you have to hurry.” He looked over his shoulder before handing Jaime the evidence.

Jaime shook the baggy to situate everything so she could see them. There were three credit cards, a driver’s license, and a set of car keys. Of course, there were all the other essentials women carried with them. Makeup, lipstick, chewing gum.

“Maisie Freeman.” Jaime shook her head. What was this young woman doing at a place like this? “Did you find her clothes?”

“Not yet. They’re checking the dumpsters in the area. Could you hurry, please? My supervisor is going to give me shit for this.”

“Is it Mundy?” The tech nodded. “Don’t worry about it. He owes me.” Jaime flipped the bag again, and a pop of red jumped out at her. She maneuvered the bag to get a better look. It was a business card. No phone number or contact info. Only a name. “Lady A,” she muttered. “Hey, Max!”

Jaime beckoned Max over with a wave of the arm. Something about this card tickled her senses, but she wasn’t sure why. She glanced at the building again. Did this “Lady A” work here? Was the card Maisie’s, or was it simply something she had just picked up off the ground?

“What’s up? Find something?”

“Not sure.” Jaime turned the card toward Max. “Does this look familiar to you?”

Max studied it for a moment, squinting at it as though he was trying to conjure up some memory. But he shook his head. “Not off the top of my head.” He flipped through his notes. “I don’t have that name written down. Think it’s important?”

“Don’t know. I feel like I’ve seen this before, but I can’t remember when or where.” She shrugged and took out her phone, snapping a picture of the business card before handing the evidence back to the tech. “Thanks.”

“You know Mundy is going to be pissed,” Max told her.

Jaime rolled her eyes. “I didn’t even touch the stuff.” She trained her sights on one of the uniformed officers, snapping her fingers as she stepped closer. “Hey! What time does this place open?”

“Why? You lookin’ for a date?” the guy snickered.

Jaime’s nostrils flared; Max’s arm suddenly wrapped around her side as she lunged forward. If it hadn’t been for her partner, she’d have been on that fucker, pummeling him until she felt better. Or until he blacked out, whichever came first.

“Jaime, leave it! He’s a fucking rookie. He doesn’t know.” Max held on tight, struggling to keep Jaime with him.

Through the red haze, Jaime saw the other unis smacking the rookie and whispering to him. He had enough humility to look embarrassed and sorry, but that didn’t help Jaime’s anger.

“I-I’m sorry, Detective….”

“Save it,” Jaime bit out through gritted teeth. “What time?”

“Eight o’clock. They’re, uh, open until two a.m.”

Jaime nodded once and turned her back on him. Fucker. Was she more upset that this was the anniversary and that he had made a distasteful joke? Or that he thought she’d ever come to a place like this for a… date? She sure as fuck didn’t want to think about the answer to that.

“I want to come back here tonight to see if this Lady A knows our victim,” she announced to her partner.

“How do you know this Lady works here?”

“You kidding? A moniker like that? Probably owns the damn place. Until then, does our victim have a next of kin?”

Max checked his notes. “Preliminary findings say the parents are elderly and living in assisted living in Boca Raton. I’ll contact authorities down there to see if they can go talk to them.

No word on siblings yet.” He paused, frowning slightly.

“But it looks like she has a boyfriend here in the area.”

Jaime’s eyebrows shot up. “A boyfriend? That’s different from the others. I don’t recall any of them having a significant other. Man or woman.”

“No, you’re right. The others were described as single.” Max scratched at his stubble. “This fucker is getting bold.”

“Yeah, and branching out,” Jaime agreed. “Let’s go talk to the boyfriend and see what he knows.”