I Need You In My Office

I Need You In My Office
Sam's POV

The whole room was already marked as a crime scene. Dr. Keene stood beside what a powerful and beautiful woman had been reduced to—a lifeless corpse.
Her latex gloves on, she touched the cut on Lucy Callaghan's neck, looking down critically at the wound with her experienced eyes. I just watched her, quietly following her eyes tracing the bloodied gash on Lucy's neck. I knew I was right, but I wanted her to confirm it for me. She was the medical examiner.
She eventually turned to me, and a sad grin split her lips. “Our same killer. Fits his MO perfectly: tall, firm, wide grip. Knows his thing. But this time, he didn't need to stab his victim first. He just went straight to ripping her neck off. “She was drunk, pretty drunk,” she echoed for exaggeration. “I can still smell the booze on her mouth.
She stepped back from the bed, weaving past the past the forensic guys around to me. She slanted her head to the side, and I let out an exasperated sigh as we both left the room for the next room.
She walked to the king-size bed too, to the next woman, who we have discovered to be Rebecca Griswold. Another high-profile lady—daughter of the state's attorney general. Either the killer has a high taste in his choice of victims, or he has a personal vendetta against the political class.
Dr. Keene bent over her as well. She didn't need to touch her. She swiped her head at me again. That same professional, bland look graced her eyes, and the usual stiff, sad, pitiful grin crossed her lips, and she echoed my thoughts. “He is the same killer.” She leaned away from the corpse. Rebecca's glassy, lifeless eyes watched her walk her way out through the team of forensics to me.
“Same killer. Same style. Lure them to a hotel room, jump in through the window, slice off their necks, and leave. The bastard sure planned all these out.” She sighed.
“Sure did.” I agreed with a sigh of mine. “Can you tell if it was the same murder weapon used, like the same knife?”
“Can't be completely certain without in-depth examination,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders. “But it seems highly likely it is. The cuts are the same in depth, power, and style.”
I was still trying to speak when a voice blared from the other room—a loud, strangled voice that was very familiar. I knew it was him, even before I raced out of Rebecca Griswold’s room to Lucy.
Alex stood near her corpse, staring down at her, his eyes dank and solemn, tears dripping down his eyes slowly. “Lucy! Lucy!” He echoed, no longer shouting. But just staring at her for so long, as if he stared any longer, she was going to jump back to life.
The bastard was a really good actor, but he didn't look like he was acting. Now, the sorrow in his eyes seemed genuine. The tears streaming down his lips said his heart was very broken right now. I stood at the door, quietly, watching him mourn, while the forensic guys went about their business.
The bastard doesn’t deserve my sympathy. But the death of a loved one was different. I knew how much it hurt. How painful it feels to watch someone you love and cherish, and even someone you speak to, turn from a living, vibrant person to an unmoving corpse. I whispered a prayer under my breath, and I turned away from the room.
I waited to confirm from the forensic team that they found nothing, just like I knew they wouldn't. Warden Karo was a thorough bastard. I turned to leave the hotel, my mind ticking like a busy clock as I tried to work out my next step of action. I had had Officer Marlowe take Rowan in as a material witness and sent Officer Harris to get the IMEI number and other relevant details of Lucy Callaghan's and Rebecca Griswold's phones, since Warden Karo had taken them both.
I sighed as I strolled into the elevator, and I slumped against the steel wall, my mind doing some heavy lifting. But there was nothing to do but wait for the phone details and then file for the call logs of both ladies. And before then, I had to go through the formality of questioning Rowan, though I know he couldn't give me anything more than I don't know already. And again, for the second time in a row, for another murder, I am his alibi.
I had survived the first scandal. I don't think I can survive the second if Captain James finds out. I shoved my fingers into my hair, almost yanking them off my head as I slammed my head against the steel wall of the cage. How could I have fucking let this happen again? How could I have given in to that stupid attraction that was now about to ruin my life for the second time?
I had no idea I was with company in the elevator until a hard, uneasy cough sliced the air. I looked then through my messy hair to the lady whom I shared the elevator with.
I shot her an uneasy smile, and I struggled fast to arrange my hair and clothes. She just looked more flushed, making more uneasy coughs. Her eyes rolled restlessly, slanting me glances like she was sharing the elevator with a mad person.
She looked like she hadn't seen someone crash out before. Different people, different headaches. I don't know what headaches she had, but I knew she might run mad if she were in my shoes.
She walked out at the first ding of the elevator, and I followed after. I walked down the lobby, and I strolled out to my car. I got to the precinct about twenty to thirty minutes later.
I was waiting five minutes later in the interrogation room, my hands folded on the table, my eyes buried low to stare at the table as if all my answers lay on it, when Rowan was wheeled in.
I didn't even glance up until he was seated before me. I dropped my head back immediately, and I sighed heavily to clear my chest and find myself some needed strength, and I raised my head back to him.
Though it was very difficult, I tried as much as possible to look past the man I was terribly attracted to and had unwillingly gambled my career twice for. I tried to see him as the only witness to a homicide I was investigating.
And thank hell, the bastard didn't try to grin at me today or act cocky. He wore a cool, impassive look as he looked at me.
“How long have you been with Miss Lucy Callaghan in that hotel room?” I asked.
“Just two days.” He answered. He seemed more interested in staring at my face than answering my question. His gaze rested solely on my face, not even shifting to anywhere else in the room.
“And for those two days, did you find Miss Lucy behaving strangely, or did she talk about anyone who you suspected might have killed her?”
“He shook his head. The only thing she was ever interested in and that we ever talked about was sex, and I just kept stalling her for it, because I was only interested in doing that with only one woman, and that's not her.”
My lips parted to speak, to scream at him to just please treat this as he ought to. But I clasped them shut, and I sighed hard, and I asked. “Did you see her killer?” I asked.
“Of course you know I didn't, detective.”
“Just answer the question, Rowan.” I yelled.
His eyes narrowed on me, and he sighed and breathed, “No.”
We went around with some couple of more questions, and we were about to round up the questioning when the door burst open with a force that rattled the whole room.
Alex charged into the room. He slanted me a look of pure disdain before lunging madly for Rowan, swinging his fists fast for his face. “You killed Lucy, you bastard. You fucking killed her.” He yelled.
“Stop all this, Alex.” I yelled at him, moving to jerk him back from Rowan, who had jumped away from his seat to avoid his punch. “Get out, Alex. You are disrupting an interrogation scene.” I yelled at him, my hands latched around his arm, and I tried to pull him back as he swung his arm for Rowan again.
He shook my hands off, pushing me with all of his strength, and I tottered on unsteady feet until I slammed my head and body against the wall.
Hot searing pain jarred through the whole of my back, and for a moment, I just stood dazed, groaning gently at the pain ringing up my spine to my brain, my eyes swirling around the place.
“Detective.” Rowan screamed, voice echoing with concern. Feet stumped the ground, and then his stronger hands pulled me close. He held me to himself as he shook me gently to get my senses back.
“Detective! Detective.” He kept muttering low, while my eyes kept swirling around. When I still didn't respond, he threw me towards his chest, holding me tight to his body.
I didn't fight his grip right now but actually submitted to the warmth of his body, feeling my senses reeling back in slowly. It was still doing so when Captain James's voice echoed in the room. “Get off your boyfriend’s arms, Detective Cross. This is a police station, not a hotel.” He snapped, his voice strained tight from suppressed rage.
I pulled fast from Rowan's arms, as if he’d caught that plague. I looked through my slightly hazy vision at Captain James standing by the door, his face folded tight in a snarl. “I need you and Detective Bernett, both in my office immediately. You both have some serious explanations to do, especially you, Detective Cross. You need to tell me what you were doing in Lucy Callaghan's hotel room, smooching with your criminal boyfriend.”
Cold chills drilled through my spine, and I snapped erect, though I was shattering inside. Somehow, the ice-cold shivers drilling through my veins now worked their magic on my vision, because my eyes cleared instantly. He’d found out; that means he’d gotten the damn CCTV footage of the hotel hallway.