Chapter Eleven

Detective Sutton picked up a book that was on the bedside table and shook it. Nothing drifted out of it. He had managed to get Miss Riley’s home address from Steve Hallitt and he and Detective Graves had gone to the small but neat apartment to search it. CSI would only be called in if it was an obvious scene of crime.

The place was small, even by Manhattan standards, but it was extremely tidy. Too tidy. Luke had always distrusted tidy people. They had way too much time on their hands if they could tidy up all the time. Whoever Jenna Riley was she was obviously a neat freak. Obsessively neat. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Even the tea towels were ironed and put away in a drawer. Luke thought of his place with damp washing hung up wherever there was space and the remains of last nights dinner still in bowls dotted around the floor and smiled wryly. If he ever found this Jenna Riley he was going to ask her the secret to being tidy, that was for sure.

He looked up from where he was sat, on the edge of the double bed that dominated the small bedroom, to see Graves walk in from the tiny en suite bathroom that constituted the apartments only bathroom.

“Anything in there?” Luke asked.

Graves shook his head, blonde hair flopping in his face, “Nah, just the usual toiletries and shit. Though one thing’s odd, everything’s in alphabetical order in the medicine cabinet and even her dirty laundry’s all folded up neatly in the laundry bin. She’s a freak man.”

“Just ‘cause you’re a slob.” Luke muttered, smiling, knowing he was just as bad, if not worse, than Graves.

“So, whatever happened to her didn’t happen here. Have you checked the kitchen? Listen Graves, you go back to the precinct and start the report. I‘ll finish up in here, ok?” Luke said as he headed out of the tiny bedroom into the kitchen/diner/lounge area.

“Er.” Graves managed as Luke started to open cupboards. Every single cupboard was filled; tins that were lined up alphabetically, packets that were in date order and so on. The fridge was clean and smelled fresh. Luke was a little surprised at the fresh smell seeing as she had been missing for a while but realised it was because all the contents were neatly packaged into plastic boxes with the contents and use by dates hand written neatly onto small labels. Even the eggs had felt tip dates on them. He checked the freezer and found the same set up.

All her bills were neatly tidied away in an A-Z divider, which sat on the small, yellow topped kitchen table. It was an old 1950’s Formica topped table with metal fold away legs and leant the room a sunny feel.

Luke walked around the waist high divider and into the lounge area. Again it was neat and tidy. Sunlight streamed through the window highlighting a patch of beige carpet and illuminating sparkling white paint work. Even after having been uninhabited for a few weeks there was very little dust. Luke sat down on a small two seater sofa and looked around the neat but clinical room. There was nothing personal about the room at all; no paintings on the walls, no photos of loved ones, no ornaments at all.

It was the room of someone who was completely in control of everything she did, even to the point of controlling her own emotions. Someone cold and hard and shut down. Someone who could quite easily walk away from her life if she wanted to and the complete antithesis of what Miss Riley did for a living. Luke thought about her job for a moment. Rock Music Journalist.

Rock Music - the idiom of passion. He thought of the people she worked with. Every single one of them was passionate about his or her job, the music, the way of life, the style and fashion. He realised he hadn’t checked the wardrobe was heading back to the bedroom when something caught his eye. It was bright blue and red and was peeping out from under the sofa. The sun had gone in and in the gloom the bright primary colours stuck out like a sore thumb. He got down onto the floor and managed to prise it out. It was a Domino’s Pizza box. He opened it. It was empty but there was a lingering but very faint smell of grease and melted cheese.

In the clinical but well cared for apartment it was about as likely to belong there as a pork chop at a Bar Mitzvah. Luke was beginning to smell something and it wasn’t just the rank grease from the stained cardboard.

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He stood and watched as a CSI team entered the apartment block where Miss Kitty had lived. He cursed himself as he thought about his carelessness. He had forgotten the pizza box. He’d been so very careful with all of her belongings though. They wouldn’t find a single drop of him. Anywhere.

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Abby stretched out as Jon joined her back on the sofa. Outside the sky had begun to darken and fat flakes of snow drifted lazily to the ground. Abby had lit the freestanding gas fire that stood off to one corner of the room, making the room warm and cosy.

“Everything ok?” she asked as he snuggled up to her, laying his head on her shoulder, his arm snaking gently around her waist, careful of her sore ribs.

“Yup. Everything is good.” he answered, clipped. He breathed in the scent from her shampoo and pressed a kiss against her neck.

Abby smiled as she felt the weight of him leaning on her. She felt safe with Jon around. She kissed the top of his head, lifting her arm gingerly to allow him to snuggle up closer. She draped her arm around his shoulder and idly ran her fingernails along his scalp, marvelling at the thick heavy hair as it slipped through her fingers like silk.

“Richie’s nice isn’t he? He‘s such a flirt, how does his girlfriend put up with it?” she asked, feeling him breathing against her neck, causing her skin to break out in goosebumps.

Jon smiled, his lips resting against her neck. He moved his arm leisurely until his hand was cupping her breast. He could feel the nipple stiffen as he ran his fingertip across it lightly, feeling the puckered skin under her clothes

She breathed in deeply, her stomach doing somersaults. The shower they’d shared had been wonderful but not nearly enough. She wanted to feel his touch on her and inside her to make her feel real. Having holes in her memory made her feel not quite human and she had found, after the shower, that she just craved his touch.

Jon released her and with a practiced move, removed her top in one swift move. He threw it behind them where it landed none to elegantly in a heap by the bottom of the stairs. It had been quite a throw and if he was throwing the discus that far he’d have made the Olympic team. As it was, it was a different kind of gold he was going for.

He bent his head to her breast, licking at the erect nipple through the satin of her bra.

Abby moaned, feeling her pussy grow wet. She reached out blindly and began to pull at the hem of his cable knit jersey. She began to get frustrated as she couldn’t seem to get it off him, not realising it was because his arms were around her waist. Finally Jon sat back and soon the jersey joined her top, and after that her bra joined the sad little pile of discarded clothing…

Jon gazed down at Abby. She was lying naked on a pile of soft, fluffy white cushions that he’d spread out on the sofa, her hair lay fanned out, the red was like so much blood in the snow against the white of the cushions. It was dark outside and the only illumination came from the soft orange glow of the gas fire, which cast long shadows across them both.

Jon thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Abby knew she’d never seen anything so beautiful as she gazed back at him.

With a smile she urged him into her as she pulled him back down to kiss him hard and long.

Abby gasped into his mouth as she felt the tip of him enter and stretch her. His magic was in his girth and boy did he know how to use it. Little by little he pushed his way into her, stretching her into a sense of delicious pain.

She whimpered as he inched his way in until he was fully sheathed in her body.

“You ok baby?” he whispered, grinning devilishly in the firelight, his full, lush lips, curved in a wicked smile.

“Oh god yes.” was her breathy reply, before she moaned as he slowly pulled himself out until the tip of his dick remained inside.

Oh god she felt good he thought as he rammed into her, wanting nothing more than to lose himself inside her. Dimly he heard a noise behind him but he was too lost in Abby to care.

Her back arching off the sofa, Abby was lost in a sea of sensations and feelings and knew she was about to be flung over the abyss once more. She could fell the heat and warmth, for they were two different sensations, of Jon as he plunged in and out of her. Curious little sensations took up residence in her brain; the feel of his balls slapping against the curve of her butt, a drop of sweat falling from his forehead onto her cheek, a pulsing vein in his forearm as he took all his weight off her. Inconsequential by themselves but so important all together. Finally the pressure that had built became too much and she found herself screaming as she tipped over into the dark abyss followed shortly by Jon.


Abby woke up to find herself, wrapped in a faux fur throw on the sofa. Jon was standing, fully dressed, by the window, watching the snow settling out in the grounds. Faint lights in the distance winked on and off as boats made their way over the stormy, treacherous Atlantic. Sometime passed the gentle drifting snow had developed into a raging blizzard.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, as, wrapping the throw around her, she made her way over to where he stood before snuggling into his warm embrace.

“Not long, ten, fifteen minutes at the most. I hadda get dressed in case Richie came down.” he explained as she looked at his clothing.

“Oh shit.” she exclaimed, “Richie. Oh god, I didn’t even think of him.”

“You can say that again darlin’.”

Abby groaned as his caramel molasses voice rang out from behind her. She turned, still encased in Jon’s grip, to see the tall man walking towards them.

“Ain’t even gonna ask if you’re naked under that, cause I know y’are.” he winked as he came closer.

“What?” she asked, puzzled, turning to look at him.

“Clothes. They’re still in the hallway. ‘Sides, I reckon they could hear you two all the way back in Manhattan.” he laughed, his eyes twinkling good naturedly as she blushed a bright pillar box red.

Abby looked up at Jon who was trying not to laugh.

“It’s all right for you two. You’ve done things like this before, probably in the same room, possibly to the same woman!” she said dryly, smiling wildly, to show she could take a joke, “But if you’ll excuse me I need to go and get changed.” She rose on her tip toes to kiss Jon, who took advantage of her nakedness to squeeze a breast as she did so.

Richie stood watching the lovers. They looked so good together he really hoped that Jon wasn’t going to let his natural ability to fuck things up when in a relationship get in the way. Abby squealed slightly, then giggled softly as Jon whispered something in her ear. Blushing slightly she pulled the wrap tighter and smiling up at Richie as she passed him, went upstairs to change. Richie smiled broadly as he walked towards his best friend and soul mate. Who says soul mates have to be either the opposite sex or for a sexual union? Richie knew Jon was his soul mate. His was the longest relationship Richie’d ever had.

“So you wanna get me some food? And then we need to talk.”

Chapter Ten

Abby sighed in delicious pleasure. Her leg was out of plaster and, providing she took it easy for a few days, there was no need to use the crutches. Christmas was a week away and she had no idea what to do about getting Jon a present. It wasn’t like she had any money at the moment and she felt embarrassed at asking him for a loan to buy a present from him. Jon had gone out for a few hours to pick someone up from the airport. Abby’d been half asleep when he’d left and hadn’t really listened to what he’d said.

She flicked through what seemed like a hundred channels on the massive Plasma TV, smiling like a child. She couldn’t believe there were so many channels to choose from. She could only remember there being four back home and it always seemed to her that there was nothing on any of them. The smile slipped slightly as she continued to flick through numerous adverts and really bad programmes. Maybe nothing had changed. There still didn’t seem to be anything on the TV. As she idly flicked something caught her eye and she hurriedly flicked back to be confronted by Jon, complete with bandana, prancing about a stage, singing into a microphone with scarves tied to it. She turned the volume up and smiled, in spite of herself, as the lyrics to ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ blasted through.

She smiled as she thought back to the previous evening. After the wonderful shower she and Jon’d shared, he’d taken it upon himself to introduce her to the Bon Jovi family.

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“And this was taken in Moscow. You see the look on Richie’s face? Slightly shocked yeah? He’d just realised that the girl he’d been screwing the night before was married and that her husband was the KGB officer stood next to him in the photo. Thankfully for him, she kept quiet about it, which was good for us, as I’d hate to think what coulda happened ya know?” Jon chuckled as long buried memories bubbled up and broke the surface.

Abby laughed at the thought of Richie and the KGB Officer’s wife. Jon had played a selection of songs to her from all the albums earlier that day. She’d found them melodic, truthful and catchy. Some had made her want to head bang along, some were downright silly, like ‘99 in the shade’, and a few had made her cry, like ‘Make a memory’. One, in particular had made her smile. ‘You had me from hello’ seemed almost prophetic.

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She lounged back, letting the familiar yet new strains of the song wash over her. Richie was playing his solo with what looked like a loo brush sitting on his head, Abby giggled to herself as she took in the supposed fashions that were all the rage in the 80’s. The programme seemed to be a look back to the 80’s and she was rewarded when the next video flashed up to reveal Simon Le Bon stalking through the jungles of Sri Lanka ‘Hungry like a Wolf’. Abby’s jaw hung open as she watched the object of many a teenage fantasy turn his bright blue eyes to her and sing. Another pair of blue eyes entered her consciousness and she found herself, not enjoying the trip down memory lane, but comparing the two men and finding that the ice blue eyes she’d come to know over the past few days were much sexier than Simon’s ever had been. She was so lost in her mental comparison she jumped when she felt a feather light kiss on her head and hands on her shoulders.

“Hey babe.” Jon said, looking up to the TV, “Mmm, you must be in heaven.” he murmured as Simon and the boys lounged and played on the beach.

“Shit Jon, this place is even bigger than I remember.” a deep, caramel laced voice rang out from behind them.

Abby watched as a tall, dark haired, broad shouldered man came into her view and sat down on the sofa next to her. Kind, yet devilish brown eyes fixed their gaze upon her. Abby had to hold back a giggle for the lost loo brush as she took in the short haircut.

“Hi, you must be Abby. Jon’s told me nothing about you.” the man said, taking her hand and pressing a warm kiss on her pulse point.

“Richie, down boy.” Jon said, smiling, yet his eyes were tight.

“Abby, meet Richie. Richie, meet Abby, and hands off.” the warning was there for those that would listen.

Richie raised an eyebrow. Last time he’d heard that tone was when he’d been introduced to Dot and had, inadvertently, flirted with her.

Abby smiled at Richie, who waggled his eyebrows back at her. He was a devastatingly sexy man, who wore his sexuality like a war medal; with pride.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Like the hair.” she blurted, unable to hold in the peal of laughter that had been dangerously close to the surface.

“Did I miss something?” Richie asked, smiling. He always smiled when an attractive woman laughed. As long as she was looking at him he didn’t care if he was butt of the joke or not. Make ‘em laugh and you’re halfway there.

“We were looking through old photo’s yesterday.” Jon explained, leaning on the back on the sofa, his fingers playing softly yet possessively with errant curls of Abby’s hair.

“Oh, did he show the one in Moscow? Christ I nearly shit myself when Kat turned up with her husband. Fuckin’ KGB! I thought I was dead for sure, ‘specially as he was armed with a fuckin’ Uzi. Jeez, I had to go change my shorts!” Richie laughed, good naturedly.

Jon laughed as another memory surfaced.

“Turned out all he wanted was a fuckin’ autograph. Still not sure what the fuck I wrote on that photo. Could’ve been Mickey fuckin’ Mouse for all I know. All I know is I was out of there like a shot after that photo was taken. Headed back to the hotel and stayed there for the rest of the tour.”

“You still didn’t learn anything from that though, did ya, prick.” Jon bantered.

“You can talk, Mr ‘I’ll screw anything with a zip code’.” Richie countered, smiling.

“Fuck you man.” Jon shot back.

Abby sat, in amazement, watching and listening to the banter between the two men. It was obvious they were as close as two people could get without being one. It was fascinating to watch the interaction and ease between them.

Jon squeezed himself onto the sofa between Richie and Abby. He trusted Richie with his life, but knew him too well to trust him with his woman. At least, sometimes.


Richie raised an eyebrow as Jon’s butt came to close for comfort as he settled onto the sofa and grinned to himself. Oh man, Jonny had it bad for this one and he, for one, wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.

“So Abby, are you happy with this reprobate? Cause I’m happy to take over if you’re not.”

Abby laughed, linking her arm though Jon’s as she replied.

“I’m happy, very happy, and if he’s a reprobate then let me be damned too.” she smiled.

Richie looked at Jon who had turned to look at him and froze for a second as pure unadulterated anger flashed across his face for a split second. Richie’s eyes widened, then he recovered his stance.

“Ah Abs, you don’t know what you’re missing darlin’” but his heart wasn’t in it.

Making a show of it, he stretched, hearing his joints crack and pop.

“Well folks, I am shattered. Guess my age is catching up with me as flying ain’t that fun anymore. ‘Specially flying commercial. Jon, you wanna show me which room I’m in?” Richie got up and stood, smiling to hide the hurt.

“Yeah sure.” he mumbled, pressing a kiss on Abby’s temples, before getting up and walking, stiff shouldered out of the room.

Abby turned back to the marathon ‘return to the 80’s’ on the TV and was soon immersed in memories of Cyndi Lauper and ‘Girls wanna have fun’.


Richie picked his overnight case up and followed Jon up the wooden staircase. He walked along the wood and glass bridge until they were both out of sight of Abby. He was angry; no, scratch that, he was furious.

He waited until Jon opened the door of the spacious guest room to say something.

“I’ll say this and say it once so you listen to me. It’s only because of what you’ve gone through over the past few months that I haven’t ripped you a new asshole. You ever look at me like that again and I will walk. I don’t need the work, you get me?” Richie’s voice was low and quiet, always a bad sign coming from such an exuberant person.

Jon stared at his friend, poker faced.

“Now you gonna tell me what that display of anger down there was about? Or do I ask Abby?”

“Leave her out of this, man.”

“Start talking Jonny.”

The two men faced each other, neither willing to give in. The band had always thrived on the huge egos of the two front men and Richie had often seen Jon angry, but never as intensely and never directed at himself and he wanted to know why.

Slowly Jon sagged as if the air had gone out of him. Tears appeared in the corners of his over bright eyes and Richie watched, appalled, as one ran down Jon’s face.

“Jon? What the fuck is going on?”

“I’m fucked Rich. I just can’t do this anymore. The band, the music, the tours. I just…can’t. I’ve had enough, man. Just too fuckin’ tired. I’m old and,” he faltered slightly, breathing deeply to regain his somewhat composure, “I’m quitting. I ain’t gonna do another album.”

“What the fuck?” Richie exclaimed, sinking onto the plush king sized bed.

What ever he’d been expecting, and he’d been expecting something it hadn’t been that. He’d watched as Jon had withdrawn into himself over the previous few months and knew something would have to give but had never thought in his wildest dreams, and he’d had a few of those, that it would ever be the music that gave.

“Is it because of Abby?” Richie asked, shock evident on his handsome face.

“No… well… partly… but… no, I’ve been thinking this over for months now. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in what I was doing, what the band where doing and trying to run the whole damn corporation by myself then what happened would never have happened, and now I’ve met someone I care for deeply,” he had a moment of insight as he realised he really did care deeply for Abby, “I’m not gonna waste a moment with her. So it ends, here.”

“Jon, please. What I said about walking, I was just angry man.” Richie said, unable to believe what Jon had said.

“I know, and you were right, you should’ve torn me a new one. In fact if people hadn’t been so damned afraid of tearing me new one then maybe she’d…” he shook his head as another tear rolled down his face.

He turned to face his best friend.

“I have a new chance Richie and I’m not going to mess this one up like I did before. Look you can stay here if you want, you’re more than welcome to, hell you’re my brother, but please don’t try to change my mind. The paperwork’s already signed, just needs to be sealed and delivered that’s all.”

“When were you gonna tell us?” Richie asked, his mind going off in all sorts of directions.

“New Year.”

Richie’s shoulder sagged as he realised that he wasn’t going to be able to argue with him.

“Whatever man,” he smiled at the face he’d come to know and love deeply over the previous 25 years and saw tiredness, rage and something he’d not seen before. Defeat.

With a groan he buried his head in his hands, a lone tear dripping down his face as he heard the lock snick into place as Jon left.

Chapter Nine

Detective Sutton looked at the extremely attractive blonde behind the reception desk. He had made the journey downtown to the offices of US Rock as no-one had seemed to have the time to talk to him on the telephone, plus it was always better to get a face to face in order to read their body language. He unwrapped the wool scarf from around his neck, shivered as some melted snow briefly touched his bare neck, and smiled at the woman. The sign behind her on the wall read Bauer Media Corp, which he guessed was the parent company.

He stepped closer to the reception desk and smiled. She was more attractive the closer he got and was wearing the sexiest dress he‘d ever seen, even if it was totally unsuitable for the weather outside. A 1950’s style halter dress in black with sexy little cherry bomb prints dotted all over it.

He cleared his throat, his smile faltering a little as he struggled to stop staring at her.

‘Damn it all, I need to get laid’ he thought fleetingly as she looked up from some paperwork and smiled at him

‘Oh hell, I’m lost’

“Good morning, welcome to US Rock. How can I help you?”

‘British as well. Shit I am so dead.'

“Hi, Veronica,” he squinted, reading her name tag, “I’m Detective Luke Sutton and I’m here to see Steve Hallitt.” he said in a rush.

Veronica looked at the handsome Detective and smiled to herself. It was the dress, she knew it was. She’d managed to pull every time she’d worn it and it looked like New York’s finest weren’t immune either.

“Ok, if you’d like to take a seat I’ll let him know you’re here.” she said, flicking her long wavy blonde hair over her shoulder, “Please help yourself to coffee while you wait.”

Luke sat down on a quite comfortable chair and leant back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so affected by someone he’d just met. She really was stunning. Mentally shaking himself, he thought about the case he’d been given. He flipped open the folder and began to remind himself of the facts he had.

He was so lost in reading about Jenna’s life that he didn’t see the tall man approach him until he heard a cough.

Luke looked up into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen behind a pair of round wire framed glasses. A rather pleasant, non threatening face topped off with a mop of dark brown hair.

‘Jeez, he looks like that Harry Potter actor.’ Luke caught himself thinking as he got up from his seat and went to shake the proffered hand.

“Hi. I’m Steve Hallitt.”

He noticed Luke staring at him and chuckled.

“I guess you’re thinking, Christ he looks like Harry Potter,” Steve said, good naturedly. “I’ve heard it pretty much every day since that first film came out. Even got to the point where I was going to carve that damned lightening scar into my forehead .” he ran his hands down his jeans.

Luke recovered himself and forced himself to stop staring. “I’m…I apologise for staring, it’s just so uncanny.”

Steve smiled. “Apology accepted. You know that’s one thing I miss about not having Jenna here. She’s so damned protective towards us you know. I had to stop her from physically hurting one band member once when he wouldn’t stop calling me Harry. Anyway, this is our meeting room,” Steve said, leading Luke into a small but airy room, containing a couple of sofas, a well worn coffee table, a couple of bottles of Jack Daniels and a widescreen TV.

“Well, the guys we interview won’t sit round a table like normal, they’d just get up and leave you know…so we have to provide a few home comforts.” Steve explained to Luke’s look of astonishment.

“It’s cool, just wish I could get our Captain to approve something like this.” He said, sitting down in a squishy leather seat.

Steve sat opposite him, straightening his tee shirt and rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans.

“You ok? You look a bit nervous.” Luke said, curiously.

“Oh yeah man, I’m fine, you know even though my uncle is who he is, I still get nervous around cops. Guess it comes with the territory you know…we’re not meant to be the most law abiding people us rockers…” he trailed off, running his hand through his mop of hair, making it stick out in all directions.

Luke smiled to put the man at ease. It wasn’t the first time he’d interviewed someone who was nervous, though it did usually mean they were guilty, of something at least.

“So, down to business. You reported Miss Riley missing when exactly?” Luke asked, wanting to get Steve to tell the story again, rather than rely on his notes. That way if there were any discrepancies Luke would spot them.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, for Steve anyway, his story matched the one written down.

“Tell me what she’s like as a person.” Luke asked.

Steve looked at him, taken aback at the question.

“Erm.”

“You said she was protective of you all.”

“Well, yeah, to a point.”

“And that point being?” Luke tried to prompt him.

“Well, she is protective of us all but can be a bit acidic if any of us are late getting the mag to bed every month.”

“Ok. In what way acidic?” Luke looked at the man in front of him, taking in the fidgeting and twitching. He knew there was something behind it and if he could probe deep enough maybe he would get the full story. This was the bit he hated, the bit where he had to be polite and listen to well meaning but obviously bullshit diatribe before the speaker hopefully got the point.

“Well, I hate to speak ill of her but, oh man, she can be a right bitch.” Steve slumped in his seat.

Luke stared in astonishment as Steve began to unload. Ok, so maybe he didn’t have to wait that long before the truth came out.

“She’s been here for six months and, yeah the magazine’s never been run so smoothly but man, is it worth it? Everything has to be done just so. I mean you saw V on reception, yeah? She’s a looker right? Well Jenna hated the fact that she dresses like ‘a 1950’s housewife on acid’ and made it her life’s work to bully her into leaving.”

“Why don’t you fire her then, you are the editor, aren’t you?” Luke asked, causing Steve to stop mid-rant and look at the man in astonishment.

“Because she’s fucking good at her job. If I fired everyone I’d ever had an argument with I’d have no staff. Ok, listen, when I said bitch maybe that was a bit much and V? Well V can be a bit much sometimes, not much going on upstairs if you get my meaning. Listen this magazine was on its last legs before she came over. She was working for Kerrang magazine in London and came over for a year or two to get us back together which she is doing, so we forgive her for her rants and general bitchiness.”

Luke sighed inside. It was obvious he wasn’t going to get much out of Steve. Something was going on and Steve had decided to backtrack on his earlier rant making Luke’s job even harder.
“I mean she’s not that bad to work with, and it’s not like I’m Jon Bon Jovi…” Steve chuckled.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked, intrigued.

“Oh man, she fucking hates that dude with a passion. No-one knows why. She has done for, like, ever,” He got up from his seat, “Come and see her desk and you’ll get a better idea.”

Luke followed Steve out of the meeting room and into a large, overcrowded, bustling room, filled with rock memorabilia, tons of paper, and the generally harassed staff of a monthly rock magazine. Some unidentifiable song screamed out from a small digital radio that was half buried under a pile of paperwork.

He smiled at the people behind desks as he passed, feeling more and more like a Mormon caught knocking on Ozzy Osborne’s front door, asking him if he’d heard of Jesus.

He was led up to a neat and tidy desk, covered with rows of in trays, all with various stickers neatly typed and was struck by the contrast between this one and the rest. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, except for the tidiness until Steve opened the door of a small cupboard that sat adjacent to the desk.

Luke’s eyes widened as he took in the various and many defaced and pock marked pictures of not only Jon but the whole band. He gulped as he realised one of them still had a dart sticking in it, right slap bang in the middle of Jon’s forehead.

“Ok,” he said, “I see what you mean about ‘she hates them’. Why did you show me?” he asked.

“Just thought you needed to see she’s someone who can take care of herself and that she’s got a nasty and vicious side to her so if she’s missing? Something bad has happened to her.” Steve said, perturbed that the officer had obviously missed the in joke that no one who works for a rock magazine likes Bon Jovi.

Chapter Eight

Jon settled back in his tan leather laz-e-boy chair. He had ESPN on the large screen plasma TV but wasn’t really watching it, even though it was a rerun of the Giants game at Dallas Cowboys. The tree was decorated and had pride of place in the corner of the room. It wasn’t a real one as had been planned as he hadn’t really planned on how they were going to transport it home and he’d had to admit defeat, with Abby sniggering in the background, when he’d tried and failed to get the tree fixed to the top of his car. He knew Abby couldn’t help him but it had pissed him off somewhat that she’d just sniggered as he’d fought with the tree. In the end he’d just given up and had left it in the car park for someone else to take. They had picked up a 6ft plastic one, much to Jon‘s chagrin, on the way home, as well as spending quite a few hours and quite a bit of money on outfitting Abby with a complete new wardrobe. Jon didn‘t care about the cost, just that Abby was happy. The tree was black, which had been Abby‘s choice, which had taken her well over an hour to decorate. Jon had to admit it did look impressive, with the neon blue lights and silver decorations, but he was still disappointed not to have that fresh pine smell that he’d come to associate Christmas with.

It was well past midnight but he wasn’t sleepy; tired but not sleepy. Abby had gone off to bed at about 10pm and he’d been left, pottering about in the huge house. Although Abby had only been living in the house for two days it felt empty when she wasn’t around. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sat untouched by his arm. His mobile buzzed and he picked it up. It was Obie calling.

“Hey Obie.”

“Oh good you’re awake. I have some news. You might not like it though.”

“Tell me.” Jon was instantly alert, all previous signs of tiredness had gone.

“Ok, well we’ve managed to trace Abigail Jennifer Anderson. She was born on 24th September 1970 in Carshalton, Surrey to David and Anna Anderson. Shortly after her birth they moved to a suburb of Kent called Belvedere which is where they lived, quite uneventfully, until December 1986. I’ve got all her school reports and medical reports, don’t ask me how, as I’d have to shoot you, but, and this is where it gets weird, everything stops after 15th December 1986. I have a visit to the doctors for a cold on the 15th December and then nothing. Zip, nada, zilch. It’s as if Abigail just disappeared off the face of the planet. I’ve had my guys checking to see whether they moved to another part of England or even moved country but nothing so far. As far as we can find out they didn’t have passports issued in their names so…”

“That is weird. Just vanished? Have you checked death certificates? Maybe her parents died. I just don’t know what else to think.” Jon was completely flummoxed.

On that note Jon said his goodbyes and sat back, his mind going crazy.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“Sutton! In my office, now!”

Luke looked up as his captain shouted. He got up from his desk which was strewn with paperwork, mostly relating to the Slasher case.

“You hollered Captain?” Luke said as he sauntered into the small office.

“I want you to look into this case.” Captain Andrew Phillips said as he handed over a manila folder.

“As well as the Slasher case?” Luke asked, puzzled.

“Instead of the Slasher case. Now before you start, I’ve already spoken with Graves and he’s informed me that you have no new leads. Now unless you can tell me that’s incorrect then I expect you to follow up on this case.”

Luke flipped through the folder.

“Missing persons? Since when do we deal with missing persons?” he asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.

This was just full of shit. He was in the middle of a full on murder investigation and to be pulled off to find some missing woman was just…shit, that’s what it was.

“We look for missing persons since the order came down from on high. Her name is Jenna Riley, she was reported missing after thanksgiving and the person who reported her is the Commissioners nephew. Now I don’t like it as much as you don’t, all this political bullshit, but you know as well as I do, the Commissioner says jump, we say how high,” Captain Phillips took a breath and looked at Luke.

“Luke, just look into it as far as you can go and then we can hand it back. Ok?”

“Lip service?”

“Exactly. We’re gonna do this by the book. We’ve been asked to ‘look’ into it and look is what we’ll do. Then you can get back to finding this murderous son of a bitch.”

“Ok Captain.” Luke felt a bit happier. He could make a few phone calls, find out a few things and then legitimately, having looked into it, give the case back to missing persons. He walked back to his desk and began the task of reading the file.

Her name was Jenna Riley, she was 38 and worked for US Rock, a heavy metal/ rock magazine, based in Manhattan. She’d been due to go into work on Thanksgiving to finish up an article, as she’d had some vacation time coming up, but hadn’t turned up. Nothing much had been done until after she’d been due back to work. Her boss, Steve Hallitt, the Commissioners nephew, had called her and left messages and after two days of calling, had called his uncle. To give him his dues the Commissioner had advised his nephew to go through the proper channels but as it was coming up to three weeks and nothing, Mr Hallitt had pulled a few strings. Luke didn’t really blame him, he just wished he hadn’t been handed the case.

Taking a sip of the luke warm coffee on his desk, he pulled he phone towards him and began the arduous task of phoning everyone on the list that he’d need to speak to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby woke up with a big smile on her face. Today was the day she was getting that damned plaster cast off her leg. It was itching her something crazy and she just knew her leg would be hairy and covered in dead skin cells. She pulled a face as she thought of the huge task of shaving it after the cast was removed but smiled as she thought of the sensation of lowering said leg into a bath full of hot bubbly water. She sat up with a stretch and yawned. Bright sunlight filtered through a chink in the heavy silk curtains. She looked at the clock.

It was 9:07am. The earliest she’d woken for a very long time.

She pushed back the heavy comforter and got out of bed, glaring at the hated cast. She picked up a towel and clumped her way to the bathroom. Although she felt rested her head wasn’t yet awake and so although she noticed the bathroom was steamy, she failed to notice that the shower was still running and that Jon was in it.

Jon stood under the hot spray, his eyes closed. He hadn’t slept very well as all sorts of things had been going through his mind. Where had Abby disappeared to? What had happened to her? He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear the shower door open until he heard a sharp and quite surprised squeak behind him.

Not thinking he turned round to find a wide eyed and blushing Abby looking at him. Correction, a wide eyed, blushing and naked Abby looking at him.

“Morning babe.” he said, through the steam, “Coming in?”.


Abby stared in shock at the naked man in front of her. How one person could be so beautiful, inside and out, was a mystery to her. She stared at his sculptured, muscular chest, well developed arms and powerful thighs and gulped, her mouth suddenly dry, even in the steam. She knew she was blushing and, from the goose bumps on her skin, vaguely remembered she was naked. She just couldn’t move, like deer in headlights.

Jon cocked his head at her, smiling. Christ! She was fit. Curves in all the right places, soft creamy skin, a biteable ass and breasts he could spend all day stroking and playing with. He grinned wryly and, reaching out an arm, took her of her hand and led her, quite unresisting, into the heat of the shower and his embrace.

“You were letting the cold in.” he murmured before lowering his head to kiss her.

Abby felt her stomach muscles tense and then drop as molten liquid. She felt his hands, the callused fingertips grazing her skin, skimming the sides of her breasts and down to her waist, where he held her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in the heat and tenderness of his kiss.

Jon groaned as he felt the softness of her skin under his fingers. God he wanted her right this moment. He felt himself harden against her belly as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in closer to her.

Abby smiled to herself. What on earth had she been worried about? To be held in this man’s arms was just the most wonderful feeling she’d ever known and she just wanted to be lost in him.

Their kiss deepened. Jon pushed Abby up against the wall of the shower cubicle away from the spray. He bent his head and took a nipple into his warm mouth. Abby closed her eyes, giving into the intense heat that was building in her lower stomach. She clutched at his head, running her fingers across his scalp, alternatively scratching then soothing the wet skin.

Jon explored her body, running his fingertips over her ass and round her thighs, feeling the soft downy hair tickle the back of his hands as he gently stroked her mound.

Abby jumped, groaning aloud, as she felt Jon touching her. Her stomach had long since dropped away into nothingness, leaving behind a pit of molten liquid. She shifted slightly to allow him access. She felt wanton and free and safe.

Jon ran his fingertips lightly up the inside of her thigh. He could feel her heat and groaned as he touched her warmth. He stroked the hot satiny skin until he found the hard nub of nerve endings. He leant in and nuzzled her neck, feeling her jump as he pinched down on her clitoris. He smiled to himself as he slipped a finger inside her, marvelling at the warmth and tightness.

Abby could feel her legs beginning to buckle as white lightening shot through her.

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.

She thought as Jon wrapped his strong arms around her, pinning her up against the warm tiles. She was panting as he slowly pumped his finger in and out. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating wildly, as her world spiralled away from her, she closed her eyes tightly, little neon dots dancing in the darkness. Her stomach clenched once then fell away as she was tipped over the abyss.

Jon could feel her orgasm approaching and wanted nothing more than to bury himself deeply inside her and never resurface. He tried to slow his breathing but just the thought of bringing this beautiful creature to orgasm was too much for him and with his free hand he began to stroke his dick. One part of his brain immediately thought of the old trick of rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time before it shut down as he was lost in sensations. The vibrations of Abby’s groans shooting through his chest, the tightness of her clenching around his sodden finger and the touch of his own hand all combined to produce the most intense and forceful orgasm he’d had in a long time, if ever. His heart thudded in his chest as he waited for his breathing to slow down. He could feel Abby slumped slightly against him, shivering slightly, even in the heat of the water. He lowered his head until his chin rested on her head and closed his eyes, smiling.

What a great start to the day.

Opening his eyes he looked down and grinned.

“I think your plaster cast got a bit wet.” he said, smiling.

Two sets of eyes looked down at the sodden, pulpy plaster cast and both of them burst into giggles.