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.

-----------------------------------------

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.

----------------------------------------

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.”