His nudity was part of it. Having his “equipment” staring her in the face made this so uncomfortable—far worse than a run-of-the-mill arrest.
Leave it to someone like Roderick to sleep nude. Everything about him was edgier, riskier, wilder.
“What did you take from my crime scene?” she demanded.
“A cigarette butt, okay? I took a cigarette butt, hoping there might be some of the killer’s DNA.”
She’d missed that? How? After she’d hung up with the mayor and Lindstrom, she’d done a grid search. But she’d been upset, overwhelmed and distracted by the mayor’s call. She’d also been working fast, hoping to finish before Lindstrom arrived. She’d felt lucky to have the shell casings and hadn’t expected to find anything else. In the past, the killer had been too smart to leave that kind of evidence behind.
Were the long hours and the pressure starting to get to her? She was afraid they were….
It became harder and harder not to look south. The more Sophia told herself not to, the more that particular part of Rod’s anatomy acted like a high-powered magnet. “You shouldn’t have interfered,” she said.
“I told you I was here to help you. That’s not interfering!”
She couldn’t stop herself; she glanced down. She quickly brought her gaze back up, but she’d seen enough to make her blush. “And I told you I didn’t want your help. That’s my decision to make. A civilian can’t just insert himself into a police investigation. I was in the right.”
“We’ll see.”
“Fine. We’ll see.” Shoving aside the exhaustion that threatened, and the disappointment and frustration she felt at missing evidence as important as a cigarette butt, she picked up the Taser and took a step toward him, carrying his underwear. She had to get him dressed before he noticed the extent of her distraction.
He didn’t move as she approached, didn’t flinch, but the way he ground out his next words told her he was clenching his jaw. “You shoot me with that thing again and I swear—”
“You do anything, anything at all to endanger me, and I will shoot you again,” she cut in. “Do you understand?”
He snapped his teeth at her, which scared her. But she was so reluctant to shoot him that she merely jumped back and didn’t fire.
“A little spooked?” he taunted.
“I don’t know what you’re capable of.”
“That’s right. And you’d better hope you never learn.”
She lifted the Taser, threatening him.
“Do it.”
“Do you really want this to go down the hard way?” she asked, angry herself now. “You asked for this when you took my gun, ignored my commands, refused to do the lawful thing. So if you really want more, I’ll accommodate you.”
He glared at her.
“Which is it?”
“Just get me dressed.” He suddenly sounded bored. “I’m not going to touch you. Now that I know you need to be relieved of duty, I’ll let the higher-ups take care of the problem.” He thought she was the problem? “You believe you can get me fired?”
“I plan to make it my life’s mission.”
“Then you’ll have to get in line.” She held his underwear so he could step into them, but it was difficult to appear dignified when pulling them up meant stretching the elastic waist over certain parts.
“For the record, I never dreamed you’d be naked,” she mumbled.
“For the record, I consider this assault.”
“You broke the law. Now it’s my job to arrest you.”
“I don’t give a shit about your job.”
His anger was chilling. She felt as if she had the Tasmanian Devil of cartoon fame in handcuffs—or some other dangerous and unpredictable creature it was safer to avoid.
“If you play by the rules, we’ll get through this just fine.” Sophia helped him into his shorts and tossed his flip-flops at his feet. She wasn’t about to uncuff him long enough to let him don his shirt. She figured she’d bring it with her and give it to him once he was behind bars.
“After you,” she said with exaggerated courtesy, and waved toward the door.
The jail consisted of two cells at the back of the police station. Sophia generally used them for drunken and disorderly lockups. Rarely did she have to worry about incarcerating a serious criminal. The border patrol took care of any illegal aliens causing problems, ATF and the DEA handled a large percentage of the drug- and gun-trafficking infractions and the county dealt with the rest. Until the murders, which fell inside city limits, her job was mostly about keeping the peace.
Fortunately, she’d had Officer Joe Fitzer scrub down the cells because one Roger Pasley had vomited there on Saturday night. She couldn’t imagine how someone as meticulous about his laundry as Rod would’ve reacted to the stench. He didn’t seem too happy as it was, especially when the door clanged shut behind him.
“You have one call. Would you like to use it?” she asked as she removed his handcuffs and handed him the red shirt through the bars.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Who do you think I’d be able to reach at this hour?”
“I guess it can wait till morning, then.” Planning to work in her office for an hour before heading out on patrol, so she’d have some time to collect herself, she started toward the front. She hadn’t made it to the door when Rod spoke behind her.
“Leonard Taylor has your picture in his bedroom with the words Die, Bitch! written across your face. Did you know that?”
She didn’t. She’d been out to Leonard’s place, had tried to talk to him about the murders, but he’d ordered her off his property. And because she didn’t have a search warrant and couldn’t get one without physical evidence linking him to the crime, she’d had no choice but to respect his wishes. She’d been hoping to come up with the necessary evidence ever since—was still hopeful, especially now that she’d found those shell casings—but the judge who issued search warrants was Leonard’s uncle, so she needed a compelling reason.
She rubbed her face. Judging by the black on her fingertips, she’d smeared her mascara. “That doesn’t surprise me.” What did surprise her was that Roderick knew it. He’d been in town for one day and had already visited Leonard’s place? He worked fast….
“I guess you aren’t as popular as you were in high school,” he said, dropping onto his cot.