The Confessor, page 3
The odds of that would have to be astronomical.
“Oh well,” Jenica said with a shrug, “If we were meant to be in contact with each other, we would be.”
Stormie and Jenica sat in silence for several moments, each enjoying the warm sun on their faces. Stormie’s mind travelled back in time, to the first time Jenica had extended the chance for real friendship, outside of the CRBC.
A few years earlier, Jenica had invited Stormie to a summertime get-together, and encouraged the blonde to bring her wife. Stormie had agreed to go, but informed Jenica that Oakley would not be in attendance.
“She works for the FBI,” Stormie had explained, “and she’s on a training assignment at Quantico. She’s not due to come home until next weekend.”
Disappointed, Jenica accepted the explanation, but continued to extend invitations to the pair, for various functions. Stormie attended some, but for the most part, she declined the offers. At one point, Jenica began to suspect that Stormie was being deceitful about her wife, but the feeling didn’t last long.
She’d asked her supervisor at the Center, Ansel Barnes, about Stormie’s wife, under the guise of wanting to throw Stormie a surprise birthday party.
“That’s probably not a good idea,” Barnes had advised, “Stormie doesn’t celebrate her birthday. Summertime is a pretty busy season for the FBI, and her wife tends to be away for most of it.”
Jenica’s heart tightened in sympathy for her friend. She couldn’t imagine spending large chunks of time away from Cordy.
“What’s her wife like? Have you met her?” Jenica had asked, hoping the man wouldn’t be suspicious of her questioning.
“Oakley’s a wonderful woman,” Barnes had replied with a genuine smile, “She’s dedicated to her career, and to Stormie. I’m surprised you haven’t met her. When she’s not away on assignment, she volunteers as the self-defense instructor.”
“Do you realize,” Jenica said, as she and Stormie headed back toward the outreach office, “we’ve known each other for eight years, and I’ve never met your Oakley?”
Stormie stopped and gazed at Jenica with curiosity. “Really?” she asked with amazement.
Marilynn was a decently sized city, home to almost 16,000 people. She and Oakley regularly attended community functions and events, as both guests and volunteers. A few times a year, on their birthdays and their anniversary, Stormie and Oakley would even go out to the local bars to celebrate. Stormie couldn’t believe that Jenica and Oakley hadn’t met, at least in passing.
A thought crossed Stormie’s mind, and she smiled. “I forgot you live in Falls City,” she said with a shake of her head. “When she gets back from her assignment, I’ll make sure we all get together for dinner. I think she’d like Cordy.”
Jenica smiled happily and held the door for Stormie. While only a twenty-minute drive apart, Marilynn and Falls City were wholly separate cities. Many of the residents of the smaller Falls City spent time in Marilynn, which provided a multitude of activities for both adults and children. However, due to the quaint size of the small town, Falls City didn’t have much to offer in the way of entertainment.
Jenica and Cordy typically spent their time around town, spending time at the local bar. The Gym offered billiards, dancing, darts, and video poker, as well as the added bonus of booze. The evenings were always packed, which allowed the couple to socialize with their neighbors.
Occasionally, Cordy would take Jenica into Marilynn to catch a movie, or to attend an event hosted in the historic district. Barring one of those occasions, the only time Jenica was in the city, was for work or to run errands.
She’d caught a fleeting glimpse of Stormie’s wife the previous year, at the annual fundraising gala hosted by the Callie Rae Baxter Center. Unfortunately, the collapse of Hank Davis, one of the founding benefactors of the Center, had been Jenica’s focus.
“That sounds lovely,” Jenica said as she grabbed her purse from Stormie’s desk. “I’m off for now. I’ll see you on Monday,” she added with a wave to her friend.
Stormie returned the wave and got back to work on the papers she’d been reading. A feeling of emptiness washed over her, and she looked up to see Jenica climb into a white CRBC truck. She kept her eyes on the woman she considered a friend, until all she could see was the brightly colored butterflies on the tailgate of the truck.
Stormie wished that she and Jenica were friendlier with one another. Stormie longed for human companionship again, with someone other than her wife. Sadly, both Stormie and Oakley found that the only way to keep their personal pain at bay, was to avoid people as often as possible.
The friendship that had begun to blossom between Stormie and Jenica had given the blonde the personal socialization she’d felt she needed. When Jenica had begun to invite Stormie and her wife to functions, Stormie had immediately wanted to accept. She fought the urge and discussed the invitations with her wife, her heart breaking each time they decided to decline.
She continued to enjoy Jenica’s companionship, and secretly looked forward to their talks. When the opportunity for advancement came up, Stormie gladly accepted the new position, without realizing the impact it would have on her budding friendship.
Six months after Jenica’s training was completed, Stormie was transferred to the CRBC’s newest outreach office, located on the other side of Marilynn. Because of their extensive experience, Stormie and Ansel Barnes were chosen to run the new office.
It was decided, because of Jenica’s employment at Serenity Home Complete Care Center, that she would remain based out of the CRBC main office. The new office wouldn’t offer the free health assessments, and as a nurse, Jenica’s expertise would be better utilized where she was.
Unfortunately, this lessened the frequency with which Jenica and Stormie interacted. They saw each other at events and volunteer meetings, but their standard breaks together had all but stopped. Except for instances like today, when Jenica was tasked with delivering supplies to the smaller office.
With a heavy sigh, Stormie returned to her reading. She couldn’t wait until the next CRBC sponsored event, which would give her much more time to spend with Jenica. And, unless something came up, Oakley should be home to attend.
***
Cordy sat at the table in her dining room, pushing food around her plate as she read over the oldest of The Confessor files.
She’d managed to make it home early, for once, and started reading as soon as she kissed her wife in greeting. Jenica informed her dinner was thirty minutes away, and dutifully brought Cordy a beer while the detective settled onto the sofa. That was forty-five minutes ago, and Cordy had yet to make an attempt at conversation.
“Cordy, I’m pregnant,” Jenica stated flatly, staring with disdain at the open file beside her wife’s plate. “It’s Gibson’s. We’re in love, and we are running away together to raise our child.”
Cordy nodded her head, but didn’t look up from the autopsy report. “Sure, baby, we can do that. Just put the date in my phone, so I can make sure I’m there.”
Jenica snorted and took a sip of her water, setting the glass down with a sharp thud. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said,” she accused.
Cordy jumped and finally looked up from her work. “Yes, I did,” she said, forking up a bite of asparagus, “I heard everything you’ve said.”
Jenica crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. “Prove it.”
Cordy huffed out a sigh and closed the folder. She picked a carrot off her plate and mimicked her wife’s pose.
“You were telling me about your day, and how Bob the Beggar wants you to leave me for him. Then you said you ran into Nora at the supermarket, and are going to teach her how to make a proper boil-up. You assumed I wasn’t listening, because I didn’t say anything, so you said you and Gibson are running away to have a baby.”
Jenica’s lips thinned. She hated when Cordy multitasked. “Then why did you say you wanted to be there?”
Cordy grinned and took a sip of her beer. “I can’t murder the two of you, if I’m not there,” she said nonchalantly.
Jenica tried not to laugh, but the effort was futile. “If you’d just acknowledged me, I wouldn’t have made that comment.”
Cordy shrugged. “I know, baby, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doing this during dinner, anyway. I’m just so intrigued by the case.”
“Can you talk about it?” Jenica asked. She knew there were the occasional cases Cordy couldn’t discuss, namely high-profile cases. Usually, though, Cordy would tell her wife about the cases she was handling, as a way to decompress after a long day.
“We are investigating an alleged serial killer. Rick and Grant worked the first string of cases, over a decade ago, but they went cold. It looks like the perp is back, though. The body I got called to last night, has way too much in common with the other victims to be a coincidence,” Cordy summarized, finishing off the last of her meal.
“Were the prior cases highly publicized?” Jenica asked as she began to clear the table.
Cordy picked up her own dishes and followed her wife to the sink. “Somewhat,” she replied, “The killer was dubbed The Confessor, because of his penchant for making the victims confess to their crimes.”
A memory tingled at the back of Jenica’s mind. She vaguely recalled hearing the name before, during her nursing studies at Willamette University, in Salem.
“Was one of the victims a man with his boy-parts stuffed in his throat?”
Cordy nodded and rinsed her plate. “Yeah, he raped and sodomized the teenage daughter of a judge, years earlier. He was released because there wasn’t enough evidence against him. He was found in Vista Park.”
Jenica grabbed two beers out of the fridge and led Cordy into the living room. “Sounds like he got what he deserved,” she muttered.
“From the way Rick was talking, they all deserved it,” Cordy said with a yawn. It was only six, but she was running on two hours sleep.
Jenica laid her head on Cordy’s shoulder and ran her hand lovingly over her wife’s thigh. While Cordy was up and working before four in the morning, Jenica slept until her own alarm went off at seven. She knew her dedicated detective must be exhausted, and while she was looking forward to a late Friday night, Jenica could see that Cordy needed sleep.
“Babe, why don’t you go to bed early? You can read over the cases in the morning.”
Cordy smiled sleepily and rested her head against the back of the sofa. She should probably do just that, but her mind would never let it happen. That’s one of the things that made Cordelia Weston such an effective detective. Once she started on a case, that case was her primary focus. Everything else in her life took a back burner, except her beloved Jenica.
“No,” Cordy said, stifling another yawn, “I just need something to jumpstart my energy. If I go to bed now, I’m just going to toss and turn. I’ll get a cup of coffee and get them going tonight. I promise, though,” she added, turning to capture her wife’s lips, “I won’t stay up too late.”
Jenica snorted and eyed her wife skeptically. Cordy always made that promise, but rarely kept it. “We both know that’s a lie, love,” she said, shifting to straddle Cordy’s thighs, “why don’t you come with me? I’m sure we can figure out,” she leaned down and pressed a kiss to Cordy’s throat, “something to wake you up.”
Cordy shivered and let out a heavy breath of arousal. Quickly, she wrapped her arms around Jenica and stood. Jenica wrapped her legs around Cordy’s waist, and chuckled as she was carried down the hall to their bedroom.
Works every time, she thought smugly.
~ Chapter 2: May ~
“Where am I?”
I look down at the vile creature before me. My emotions are controlled, despite my knowledge of her actions. What kind of woman could do something so heinous, to her own child?
“Confess,” I instruct, as I always do.
“What?” The bottle-blonde stares up at me in confusion. They’re always confused when they wake up on my table.
Rage is boiling inside my chest, but my body will not betray my feelings. I’ve done this enough, that I am the master of my outward demeanor.
I grit my teeth and force my voice to remain low and gravelly. “Confess to your crime, and I will release you.”
“Fuck off, let me go, now,” she demands, her confusion gone, and her tone icy. She thinks she can intimidate me. She is sadly mistaken.
I casually take my blade from the instrument table just out of her line of sight. In the blink of an eye, I slide the razor-sharp edge down her sternum, between her nude breasts. A flash of pain crosses her features, but she surprises me. Instead of screaming, like all the others, she growls loudly and bares her teeth.
“That hurt! What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this?”
“Confess,” I demand again, a bit of force behind my words. “Admit what you’ve done, and I will release you.”
“I didn’t, fucking, do anything,” she spits, struggling against the bonds that hold her in place.
“Have it your way,” I say, dragging the blade down the outside of her chest, millimeters away from the curve of her left breast.
This time she screams. Tears are forming in her eyes, and I can see that she’s struggling to remain cold to her situation. Good, that means I’m getting through to her.
“Confess.”
She stares at me, defiance slathered all over her pock-marked face. I say nothing, silently challenging her to continue her denial. After several moments, she rolls her eyes and finally breaks her silence.
“What do you want me to confess to? Let me go, and I will take the blame for whatever you want me to.”
This time, I sneer at her. “I only want you to admit to your crimes.” I pull out a photo and turn it, so she can see. Her eyes widen in instant recognition, and her body trembles.
“I didn’t do anything to her,” she says, her voice wavering slightly, “I was acquitted of those charges!”
Anger blazes through me, making me sweat. I lean down, my face only inches from hers. “An acquittal does not mean you didn’t do it. It only means the state could not prove your guilt. I, however, can. I have the evidence the police couldn’t find,” I lied.
“Look,” she says, fear making her lips dry. She licked them a few times, trying desperately to concoct an escape plan. “We can work something out. Whatever you want from me, it’s yours. Sex, money, drugs, you name it. Just please, let me go. I won’t say anything to anyone, I swear.”
My nose wrinkles and I back away. I’m not interested in her pleas. I place my blade on the opposite side of her chest and pull it toward me, slowly, painstakingly slicing evenly through the tissue. The move is unnecessary, but the ear-splitting scream makes it worth the extra work that cleanup will take.
“Confess.”
“Alright,” she cries, unable to stave off the tears now, “I’ll confess. I did it. I did exactly what the police said I did.”
I pick up the disposable cell phone from my instrument table and press record on the video app. I keep the camera on my victim as she vomits the details of her crime, the crime she insisted she was not a part of. When she’s finished, I click off the video and set the phone beside the photo on the table.
Without preamble, I yank the scalpel across her throat and watch the worthless life drain from her surprised eyes.
I always feel a modicum of satisfaction after rendering justice for those who would otherwise go unavenged, but this time, the feeling is sweeter. I’ll relish this kill more than the others, simply because of my prey’s audacity. I think I’ll put her someplace and let her rot for a few days. Why ruin the weekend for the good people of this city?
***
“Good morning, gorgeous,” Cordy complimented when Jenica made her way into the kitchen. She enjoyed watching the change her wife went through in the mornings, after that first cup of coffee soothed the vicious beast that lay just below the bubbly surface.
Jenica grunted in response and shuffled toward the coffee pot. Her long black curls cascaded in a tangled heap down her back, and her lips were turned down in a scowl. Clad only in one of Cordy’s old police academy t-shirts and a pair of white cotton panties, she leaned against the counter while she took her first, soul-cleansing sip.
Cordy had to swallow hard as her mouth watered. She couldn’t explain it, but even after thirteen years together, Cordy still found Jenica’s flawless, caramel-colored legs to be incredibly arousing.
Before Jenica, Cordy wouldn’t have considered herself a leg-woman. Breasts and ass, for sure, but she’d never been so drawn to a woman’s legs. Until she met Jenica Parata. One glimpse of those long, toned, tawny legs, beneath a teasingly short skirt, and Cordy was hooked. No other woman had ever commanded her attention so strongly, with such an innocent show of skin.
“Did you come to bed last night?” Jenica asked, her voice groggy and her eyes still puffy with the remnants of fatigue.
“Around eleven,” Cordy replied, draining the last of her coffee, “you were out like a light, though. I’ve only been up since seven.”
Jenica nodded. She hadn’t realized how tired she was when they went to bed, but then again, two hours of passionate lovemaking with Cordy always left her exhausted. Before meeting the fashion-challenged Cordelia Weston, Jenica had never experienced a relationship where the passion remained strong, past the first year or two.
Unlike her wife, Jenica didn’t identify as a lesbian. Instead, she identified as bisexual. She’d found men and women equally appealing, ever since puberty. Until, that is, she met the illustrious redhead at a neighborhood party. Not once, in the last thirteen years, had Jenica experienced sexual attraction to anyone else.
Cordy’s roommate, Gibson Price, had thrown the party as a way to get to know the rest of the people in their apartment complex. Jenica lived a few doors down, with her own roommate, but had never been formally introduced to the sexy police officer before.
