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Abby squeezed her eyes tightly shut, hoping that maybe, possibly, with any luck at all what she thought she’d seen had just been a teensy, tiny little hallucination.
She took a deep, centering breath and opened her eyes again. Nup, still there.
“That is a big one,” Sven said, apparently feeling the need to state the obvious.
“Huh.” Abby turned at the sound of a familiar voice, and there stood Kate. “That is some very large and detailed penis graffiti defacing the town hall.”
“Did someone call you?” Abby asked, frowning. With both the ma’ams away in Darwin, she was technically in charge, and any request for forensics should have gone through her. “There’s no body or anything. Not this time.” She paused. “Not that we know of.” After recent events, she couldn’t rule out the possibility that a corpse might turn up eventually.
Kate shrugged. “Sven said you could use some help with forensics.”
Abby threw a dark look in Sven’s direction. Just because Kate was refreshingly professional and wonderfully generous about sharing her expertise and always smelled so amazing, like some herbal-y something, thyme maybe or sage—that didn’t mean they could just go taking advantage of her good nature.
Sven held up his hands. “Aleyna’s already called six times, and she was very wound up, like way more than usual, demanding that something be done. I told her we’d get it cleaned up, but she said that wasn’t good enough, because apparently there’s a rumor going around town that the penis was drawn in blood, and she wanted and I quote ‘all our investigational resources thrown at it’. You know how I crumble under pressure.”
“It’s not blood,” Abby and Kate said in unison, which made them smile at each other.
“Honestly, I’m glad for an excuse to get out of the lab.” Kate winked conspiratorially, and Abby felt a prickle of heat in her cheeks, because that’s just what her cheeks did around Kate. Stupid cheeks. “I’ll take some samples of the paint and make some casts of footprints and—” She waved her hand. “Whatever else occurs to me.”
“That would be great, like, really thank you, it’s so cool of you—” Abby knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t pull herself out of it, like a doomed plane caught in a tailspin spiraling away into oblivion.
“Constable Matsuda!” Aleyna’s piercing shout saved Abby from herself.
“I’d better—” Kate gestured at the crime scene and headed off with a sympathetic parting glance.
Aleyna strode up to them, looking even more harried than usual, her hair plastered to her face as if she hadn’t taken time for a shower, an industrial-sized coffee clutched in her hand like a lifeline. “Why is that penis still there? I need every trace of genitalia gone before the next bus tour, which leaves in—” She checked her watch. “Thirty-seven minutes.”
Visitors might have been frightened away when Deadloch was the site of an ongoing string of grisly crimes, but now that it was home to an infamous series of completely over and solved murders, all very past tense, business was booming. An entire murder-adjacent cottage industry had sprung up nearly overnight.
Abby drew herself up to her full height and did her best to pretend that Aleyna didn’t make her feel like a little kid playing dress up. “Sorry, ma’am, I thought you wanted a thorough investigation.”
“I didn’t say it had to be slow and thorough, did I?” Aleyna puffed out an exasperated breath. “Do you think this is the handiwork of—you know.”
Sven tilted his head, considering. “Oh, huh, now that you mention it, the exaggeratedly heart-shaped head, that little flourish there in the balls, it is reminiscent of—"
“Don’t say the name!” Aleyna bit out, with an annoyed glare. “The last thing I need is some ghost of serial crimes past making a reappearance. I can just imagine Meghan’s next hit-job piece in the Tribune.”
In the entire history of Deadloch, the only other sort-of serial crime, never solved, was a year-long wave of penis graffiti that had kept the town living in fear of spray paint for the better part of 2014. Abby had only been ten at the time, but she still clearly remembered how inspired the boys in her class had been by the Dickinator, as the unidentified graffitist came to be known. The legend had never died, really. To this day, keeping the school desks free of hairy testicles was a losing battle.
“Why does this keep happening to me?” Aleyna looked to the sky as if she might find answers in the clouds. “I need this solved. Like ten minutes ago. Murder podcast enthusiasts come for the gruesome firsthand details and tasteful keepsakes, not to see penises painted everywhere.”
“Yes, right, of course, ma’am. We’ll get on with the investigating, and I’m sure we’ll have some answers very soon.” Abby plastered on what she hoped was a confident-looking smile.
“See that you do.” Aleyna turned on her heel.
When she was out of earshot, Sven asked, “Are you sure we’re going to find something, Abs? You know they never caught the Dickinator.”
“I was trying to do that thing where you fake it until you make it?” Abby’s voice lilted up uncertainly, and then all the air went out of her bravado. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Mm,” Sven commiserated. “Oh, hey, what about that profiler from the mainland? You know, the one who wouldn’t help Dulcie at all with the case? I heard from my cousin’s sister-in-law’s hot yoga instructor that she’s come back to write a book about the murders and is renting an Airbnb on the north side of the island.”
“Are you sure? Because she’d have a lot of gall coming back to Deadloch and writing about the case when she wouldn’t answer any of Dulcie’s questions and left us all here to possibly be murdered by a serial killer.”
“She definitely sucks,” Sven agreed, “but maybe she also knows something about the kind of person who goes around drawing dicks on public buildings? And we don’t have any other ideas?”
When he put it like that—Abby let out a resigned sigh.
The door jerked open. “What is it?” A woman’s annoyed face peered out.
“Dr. Daniela Kehlmann?” Abby’s voice rose hopefully.
A heavy sigh came in answer. “If I say no, will you go away?”
“Not a chance, ma’am. If I could just come inside—”
“Out of the question. Look, I’ve got a deadline from my publisher, and there are three other people working on books about these murders, so—"
Abby’s phone vibrated in her pocket with the kind of persistent gnat energy she identified with Aleyna. Desperation mixed with annoyance made her blurt out, “So, it probably wouldn’t help your book sales if it got out that we asked you to consult on the case but you were more interested in eating a cow’s bumhole than helping us keep more men from being butchered?”
Dr. Kehlmann blinked in disbelief. “Are you trying to blackmail me into answering your questions, Constable?”
Abby tilted her chin up. “It appears I am, ma’am.”
“I should never have come back to this godforsaken island,” Dr. Kehlmann muttered to herself. With a heavy sigh, she pushed the door open. “Ten minutes, and then I never see you again.”
“Not a problem. I can make this really quick.” Abby bounded inside, took a seat on the sofa without waiting to be asked, and pulled out her notebook. “So, in your experience, what kind of person goes around drawing really large penises on public buildings and what motivates them, would you say?”
For a good ten seconds, all Dr. Kehlmann did was stare. “You are seriously interrupting my very important work to ask about dick graffiti?” She sighed in a way that seemed to imply she wished she’d never heard of a town called Deadloch. “Well, it’s typically a man, although there are exceptions. The dick is meant as a flex. A display of power. A kind of shorthand for male privilege, if you will.”
Abby turned that over in her head. “But it’s kind of, like, trying too hard, right? I mean, someone who goes around town painting dicks everywhere probably doesn’t actually feel all that powerful in their everyday life.”
“Correct.” Dr. Kehlmann seemed taken aback that a small-town police officer actually had a brain inside her head.
“Do you think it’s possible the graffiti could have something to do with the murders? I mean, if the location was connected in some way to the crimes?” Town hall was where they’d DNA-tested a good portion of Deadloch’s men, which was why it was the starting point for several of the murder-y bus tours.
“That’s an interesting question.” Dr. Kehlmann looked grudgingly curious. “I suppose it could be one of the surviving victims. They’ve certainly sustained an injury to their sense of masculine invincibility. You might also look at people who were close to the deceased victims. This could be about avenging their honor, albeit in a juvenile sort of way. On the other hand, there could be a political angle to it. You only need to spend five minutes in this town to see how deep the divisions run. This could be about reasserting control in a larger sense, the old boys' network angling to take back what it sees as its rightful power by discrediting the current mayor.”
Abby scribbled away wildly. “Okay, great, I think that’s—”
Dr. Kehlmann was already moving to the door. “I don’t see you again. That’s our deal.”
“It will be my pleasure, ma’am.” Abby breezed past her.
In the car, she checked her phone. She’d been right about the text from Aleyna—she’d know that persistent gnat energy anywhere—and skipped past it because there was also a message from Kate.
Kate: Come by, I have something for you
Abby’s heart did that thing—that talking to Kate or texting Kate or just thinking about Kate thing—where it skipped over a beat and then came revving back extra loud and fast.
She peeled away from the curb and headed in the direction of the lab, making a brief stop at the bakery for neenish tarts because those were Kate’s favorites. Bringing pastries was important because Kate had hypoglycemia so she needed to eat regularly but she didn’t always get a chance, what with being so busy now that there was only one pathologist on staff. It was just practical to bring along a treat that caused Kate to make those adorable little yummy noises, because she truly was an asset to their team and they couldn’t have her passing out from lack of sustenance.
Abby prided herself on her practicality.
Kate smiled when she caught sight of the bakery bag. It was Abby’s favorite kind of Kate-smile, the one where Kate’s whole face lit up and her eyes turned an even warmer shade of brown. Abby’s heart started to race again because that’s just what her heart did when Kate smiled at her. Stupid heart.
“Mm,” Kate moaned happily as she pulled the tart from the bag. “You’re too good to me.” The way she said it—Abby’s breath caught in her throat as if her lungs had forgotten how to work. All her vital organs were stupid around Kate.
“Right,” Kate said, around a mouthful of pastry. “So, I found samples in storage of the paint from the old Dickinator graffiti, and I compared it against the paint from the new dick.” She jerked her head toward the microscope. “Take a look.”
Abby wondered if Kate trusting her knowledge of forensics would always give her this giddy little rush of joy. Probably. Definitely. She peered into the microscope, and it only took a moment to understand what she was seeing. “They’re not the same.”
Kate nodded, smiling. “As far as I can tell, the Dickinator always used high-pressure spray paint. That’s typical for graffitists. Goes on quickly. Good for fast escapes. The new dick is done in marine paint. Those crystalline structures you see are polyurethane.”
Different paints, probably different painters. Abby’s flood of relief that she wouldn’t have to tell Aleyna that the Dickinator was back made her really want to— “I could kiss you!” She bit her lip. Had she really just said that out loud?
Kate met her gaze, and that little smile was back. “We still on for tonight?”
“Yep, absolutely, you betcha.” Abby started nodding and couldn’t seem to make herself stop, which was silly. They got together all the time to talk about forensics and their cases and stuff. Just a couple of professionals sharing professional information in a way that was really very—professional.
“See you tonight.” The corners of Kate’s eyes crinkled adorably as she smiled—and yeah, there went Abby’s stupid heart again.
She felt bubbly with anticipation the whole way out to the car. Only seven hours until she and Kate would have their totally professional conversation over cocktails and dinner. Then Sven called, and suddenly seven hours seemed like an impossible stretch of time that would probably never end.
“Abs, I’ve got some bad news and some even worse news. Which do you want first?” Abby stalled, because the honest answer was “neither,” only she couldn’t say that. Could she? “Actually, you know what? Never mind. It really only makes sense in ascending order of badness. So, there have been several more penises found around town. That’s the bad news. One of them was at the footie club, and Phil McGangus is very upset about it. That’s the worse news. I mean, you probably already guessed that.”
‘Okay.” Abby took in a breath and let it out. She was calm. She was in control. This situation was not too much for her. “Text me all the locations where graffiti was found.”
“Will do, Abs,” Sven rang off cheerfully.
Abby’s phone rang again before she could even put it down. “Do you know how I’ve spent the last twenty minutes of my life?” Aleyna’s voice exploded in her ear. “With Phil McGangus in my office scribbling very shout-y notes about how this town has gone to hell under my administration. Where are we with the case? Have you learned anything at all?”
“Oh, yes ma’am,” Abby said, flustered. “As a matter of fact, I was just at the forensics lab and—”
Alyena interrupted, “Have you even called Dulcie yet?”
“Um, no, ma’am?” Abby stammered. “On account of Dulcie being on holiday and all?” Not that she hadn’t considered it, but then Cath might have answered, and Abby was definitely still afraid of her.
“This cannot be another 2014, do you understand what I’m saying?” Aleyna sounded as desperate as Abby had ever heard her, which was saying something.
“Yes ma’am, of course ma’am. I’ll call Dulcie right away, ma’am.”
Dulcie answered on the first ring. “Abby, is everything all right?”
Abby could hear the other ma’am in the background. “Who is it?”
“It’s Abby,” Dulcie repeated, with exaggerated patience. “Which I just said, and you’re standing right there, so I know you heard me.”
“Who?” Abby could imagine the look of complete confusion on the detective’s face.
A long, pointed silence fell. “Big Eyes,” Dulcie said at last, as if it cost her something.
“Oh, Big Eyes! Why didn’t you say so? Hello!” She must have grabbed Dulcie’s phone because her voice was suddenly in Abby’s ear. “Is it still cold as a witch’s tit there? ‘Cause it’s like being roasted on the barbie here. Thank fucking Christ.”
“Do you seriously not know any of our names after everything we’ve been through together?” Dulcie’s voice scraped a low, disappointed note, and Abby was pathetically relieved that it wasn’t directed at her. Just the thought of letting Dulcie down made her break out in a sickly sweat.
“What? I know your names. Come on. She’s Aggie.”
“Abby,” Dulcie corrected, her voice dropping into a lower register still.
“That’s what I said. And you’re—”
Silence stretched on for an uncomfortably long time, and then Dulcie was in control of the phone again. “What did you need, Abby?”
Abby took a breath to launch into the whole, ridiculous story, but what actually came out was, “Nothing. No. All good here. Just wanted to see how you and the other ma’am were getting on with the case.”
Dulcie had left her in charge, so she was just going to have to—take charge. Somehow. She’d figure it out.
In the background, the other ma’am clapped her hands loudly. “Come on, Collins! Time’s a-wasting. We’ve got investigating to do.”
Dulcie let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll talk to you later, Abby.”
Which was fine. All good. Abby was just going to pull on her big-girl law-enforcement pants and get on with solving the penis graffiti sort-of-serial crimes.
She pushed her shoulders back, tilted her chin up. “You’ve got this.”
Probably, she jinxed herself with that little bit of positive thinking. That was what she would decide later.
By the time she pushed through the door at the Bush Wolf, she was worn out from a very long day of people yelling at her. Apparently, a far larger percentage of Deadloch’s residents were profiting off the murder-y bus tours than she had previously guessed. She felt maybe the most dispirited she ever had in her life, which was truly a low-water mark considering she’d been engaged until recently to the most dispiriting man in existence.
Kate waved from a table near the back, and Abby was so glad to see her she felt actual tears well up. Stupid eyes.
Her expression must have announced exactly what kind of day she’d had, because Kate got to her feet, her expression lined with concern. “You look like you need a hug.”
Words refused to form—Abby was that exhausted—but her head managed to nod and kept at it until Kate’s arms circled around her. This close, Abby felt surrounded in herbal-y Kate-scent. Mint maybe? Or was it lavender?
She was too tired to keep her mouth from blurting out, “You smell really good.” She couldn’t even regret it after the fact, because it was true and the rumbly sound of Kate’s pleased little laugh was the best thing that had happened to her all day.
Abby never wanted to move again, but she figured she probably should when Kate said, “Let’s get you a drink.”
The wine went down in a big gulp, leaving Abby surprised that her glass was suddenly empty.
Kate looked sympathetic at that. “I should have ordered you two to begin with.” She flagged down the waiter, and once Abby had a fresh glass of Sauvignon Blanc in hand, prompted, “So tell me about it.”
Abby tried to organize her thoughts, but it didn’t really work, and everything just came spilling out, a disjointed mess of misery: all the painted dicks everywhere, the never-ending calls from Aleyna, ghoulish tourists milling around all over the place, either underfoot or out at the beach putting way too much faith in the theory that Kevin wouldn’t actually eat them. Then there were all the demanding business owners pestering her for answers she didn’t have because they were worried the graffiti might somehow cut into their murder-related profits. Honestly, who wanted to live in a town built on exploiting the horrific deaths of actual human beings, even if they hadn’t been very nice people?
The litany went on for so long that Abby was out of breath by the time she’d finished, and Kate had listened, really listened, throughout the whole thing, patiently, sympathetically. Maybe this was what it was actually supposed to be like to have a partner? The thought surprised Abby so much that she could only sit there in silence, blinking in a startled way.
“Well, I found something that might help,” Kate volunteered. “Sven texted me the list of dick locations, and I had time to take a quick look around at a couple of them. There was some broken glass at one of the scenes. I found what turned out to be—”
“Oh my God, is it blood? Tell me it’s blood,” Abby broke in excitedly.
Kate laughed. “It is. A good bit of it, too. That didn’t come from some little scratch.”
“Eeeee!” Abby bounced in her seat. She couldn’t help herself. “So, we’re looking for someone with a fresh cut, and when we find them, we’ll be able to tie them to the dick-scene with DNA.”
“See?” Kate said, with a satisfied smile. “You’ve got this. Just follow the evidence.”
Abby nodded solemnly and repeated, like a mantra, “Just follow the evidence. I can do that.”
Kate’s eyes went even warmer. “Of course, you can.” She picked up her menu. “Now, let’s eat. I’m starving, as always.” She laughed.
By the time they’d finished dinner and dessert, Abby could barely remember why she’d been all stressed out. That was just the way it was with Kate. She was so funny and easy to talk to, and they had so many things in common. Abby would probably be awake for the next week from all the coffee she’d kept drinking just so they’d have a reason to linger, but it was totally worth it.
Kate walked Abby to her car, and they stalled there on the pavement.
“This was fun,” Kate said, a lightness in her voice that was belied by the intensity of her gaze.
Abby couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to. She could feel herself sinking into the moment, leaning closer, bit by little bit, the inevitable pull of—
“You coming or going?” A blustery male voice startled Abby so much that she actually leaped back from Kate and nearly fell off the curb.
A jowly, red-faced fiftyish man who was probably a tourist since Abby didn’t recognize him regarded her with annoyed impatience from his ludicrously large Land Rover and eyed her parking space with an air of ownership.
“Yes, right, just leaving,” she told the man hastily, pulling on a forced smile.
She bit her lip apologetically in Kate’s direction, because they’d just been about to—and Abby had really, really wanted to, had been hoping for it, honestly, since Kate first held out that box of gloves to her, but then the moment got all ruined because even now a certain sort of over-entitled man caused her to lose her grip on herself completely.
Kate smiled, like she understood, like nothing had been ruined at all. “Have a good night. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Abby almost kissed a girl once before.
It was at university, the day before classes started, a party in someone’s room, the sort of spontaneous social event she’d entirely missed out on in secondary school, shy nerd that she was. She probably would have missed out on it that night too—still shy, definitely still a nerd—but someone had dragged her along, insisting that they were at university now and that this was what people at university did.
There were way too many party-goers packed into the small space, the music so loud it was like a physical force. A cup found its way into Abby’s hand, something that tasted like candy but with five different kinds of alcohol in it. At some point, someone had the idea to jump up on the low coffee table to dance, and it became a whole thing, people taking it in turns.
It wasn’t something Abby would ordinarily do, but five kinds of alcohol, so when the most beautiful girl she’d ever set eyes on reached out a hand to her, Abby reached back, let herself be pulled up. That girl reminded her a bit of Kate, actually, the glint of intelligence in her eyes, that sexy air of self-possession, the way she smiled like she had a secret. For the few, fleeting moments of the song, there was nothing and no one else, just the two of them, their locked gazes, the warmth rising between them, sway and twine of their bodies to the beat of the music, how very, very much Abby wanted to kiss and be kissed. All she had to do was lean in a little closer and—
But the song ended abruptly, and suddenly Abby could feel everyone’s eyes on them. A wave of self-consciousness swamped her, how silly they must look up there, how exposed. She flashed a last, fleeting smile at the girl and stepped down. The program was just beginning. There would be plenty of time for kissing later when they had less of an audience.
The next morning was their first class. Abby still remembered it in such vivid detail, how she filed into the lecture hall, so light, so eager with anticipation. She found a seat, opened her notebook, pulled out her favorite pen, looked up, and froze. James stood there at the lectern, limned in a halo of harsh fluorescent light, sucking all the oxygen out of the room before he’d even opened his mouth.
The girl from the night before was sitting across the aisle, and she smiled at Abby, just as self-possessed, just as sexy, but it was too late. Abby had already lost herself.
Abby woke before dawn the next day with renewed determination and a fully formed plan in her head for how to catch the Dickinator wannabe. She threw on her uniform, stopped for the largest, strongest coffee Deadloch had to offer, and stepped into the nearly empty, all-but-silent station. After the killings ended, the whiteboard had been relegated to a supply closet since Office Mart refused to take it back, and it had been gathering dust there ever since. Abby dragged it out and set to work.
She taped up a map of Deadloch, marked stops on the bus tours in one color, other sites associated with the murders in another, locations where the penis graffiti had been found in a different color still. Then she carefully wrote headers for groups of suspects based on Dr. Kehlmann’s profile—surviving victims, loved ones of deceased victims, anyone who might have a political motive—and started scribbling names. She stepped back, took a long, assessing look, and realized Dr. Kehlmann had sort of overlooked the obvious. She added another header: “Dumb kids doing dumb stuff.”
“Seems like you could quickly eliminate that first group.” Abby startled hard enough that she banged her elbow against the whiteboard. She’d been so intently focused she hadn’t even heard Sven come in. “Pretty sure we can rule out Phil McGangus. Since the defacing of the footie club, he’s been bringing by complaint letters like six or seven times a day. Also texting and emailing. He even faxed. I honestly didn’t know that thing was still connected. So, you’d only need to interview—” Sven’s voice trailed off.
“No problem!” Abby insisted, her voice cracking only a little. “I can do it.”
James wasn’t hard to find. Since—the thing that happened—he and Phil had banded together, a silent fraternity, and spent most of their time drinking at the Devil’s Doorbell. At not quite 10am, they were already hunkered down at one of the tables outside, pint glasses in hand. Phil eyed Abby as she approached and fixed her with a hard look that might have been a warning, then he got to his feet and ambled away, leaving them to talk. Well, not talk. Exactly.
Abby was already flustered as she took a seat. “So.” She pulled out her notebook to give herself time to think.
Nothing came.
She stared at James helplessly. He stared back, the way he always used to do, staring and waiting, his favorite game, wearing her down one chastising, manipulative glance at a time. She almost wanted to laugh. The notion of James exerting himself enough to express his rage through graffiti—waking up in the middle of the night, climbing over fences, maybe even getting his clothes dirty—it was ridiculous. He’d never done anything that direct in his entire life.
There was no reason for her to be sitting across the table from him, not now, not ever.
She popped up from the bench. “Never mind.”
His irritated gaze followed her down the street—she could feel it, a too-hot spot between her shoulder blades—but she didn’t stop. Didn’t glance back.
Interviews with the victims’ loved ones took longer, but they weren’t any more productive.
Skye just stared at her for a good thirty seconds. “First, Deadloch’s crack police force accuses me of killing my dad. And now you think I’m drawing dicks all over town to—what? Avenge his memory or something? Does that actually make sense to you?”
Vanessa was just as outraged, but in an entirely different way. “Damn right, Trent and Gavin should be avenged! This town lost two of its kings. Someone should draw a dick on every shop, barn, and henhouse in Deadloch to make sure no one ever forgets it. That’s what Trent and Gavin would have wanted!”
By the end of it, Abby had a headache, but no new leads.
Her phone rang on the way back to the station, and she said a little thank you when she saw the name on the screen. “Dulcie, I’m so glad you called. I mean, not that there’s a problem. Because there’s not. At all. I was just wondering what you would do if—let’s say, hypothetically, there was—”
Cath’s voice was suddenly in her ear, “Abby, this really isn’t a good time. We’re doing no devices during holiday outings. So, we can really focus on being present, you know?”
Abby could hear Dulcie in the background. “Cath, I called her. Also, this isn’t an outing. It’s a stakeout.”
“A devices-free stakeout,” Cath insisted.
The other ma’am cut them both off. “It would be great if we could all pay attention to what it is we’re staking out—”
The call dropped. Cath had hung up on her, Abby felt certain.
Back at the station, Sven took one look at her and winced.
“Don’t ask,” she said quickly. “But it wasn’t—we still have no suspects.”
“Aleyna’s not going to want to hear that.” Sven held up a handful of pink message slips. “I guess you haven’t been answering her texts? So, she’s taken to calling and leaving mean messages the old-fashioned way?”
Abby let out a long, slow breath through her teeth. “It’s fine. I can do this.”
Sven bit his lip, like he had his doubts.
“Hey, I was hoping I’d find you here.”
Abby turned at the sound of Kate’s voice, the one person who could possibly salvage this absolute disaster of a day. She was standing there with a Deadloch Bakery bag in one hand and lab results in the other.
“Here, have this first,” she said, smiling, and pushed the bag into Abby’s hand.
Abby stuck her nose inside and took a deep, long breath. Lamington. Her favorite. Kate knew what kind of dessert she liked. She was smiling like an idiot, but she couldn’t even care, because Kate knew what kind of dessert she liked.
“And now for this.” Kate passed her the lab report.
The DNA analysis. Abby squinted at the printout. “But this says—the penis painter is female?”
“Huh,” Sven said. “I did not see that coming.”
Kate drifted over to the whiteboard. “This is nice work. Very well organized.” Abby could feel her cheeks pinking up. Maybe someday she’d learn to take a compliment without blushing, but that day wasn’t going to be today. “I think you’re onto something here. I mean, I guess it could be a coincidence that all the dicks have shown up at places that are on one of the bus tours, but—”
“Probably not,” Abby and Sven said in unison.
“Oh!” Abby started to bounce on her toes. “That means we have a really good idea where the suspect may strike next. It could be either the Gas and Milk or Geoff Haddick’s farm or the old mill. So, we pick one of those places, and Sven and I can stake it out—”
Sven made a scrunched-up face. “Abs, is this an overtime thing? Because I’ve got kind of a lot on right now. There’s the Gotta Love a Pavlova bakeoff coming up, and I’m really trying to up my whisking game this year. Also, book group is happening on Friday, and I haven’t even cracked open the book yet. It’s like five hundred pages or something. Actually, you know what, I’m going to need to leave a little early today.”
She suppressed a sigh. “Right. So. I can stake out the mill on my own.”
Kate shot her a concerned look.
“It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” she said with more conviction than she one-hundred-percent felt. There was that teeny tiny little detail about how she’d never actually been on a stakeout before.
Kate only looked more worried. “Are you sure?”
Abby’s head did the compulsive nodding thing. “Yes. Definitely. Totally sure. I’ll just be sitting alone in my car in the dark outside a defunct business in a remote location. What could possibly go wrong?”
She bit her lip. Possibly she’d just jinxed herself again.
So, it turned out that being on a stakeout was a lot less exciting than it sounded. Somewhere around midnight, one of Abby’s bum cheeks had gone numb, and three hours later, she still couldn’t really feel it. No amount of squirming in her seat seemed to help at all. Her eyes had gone gritty, and she couldn’t stop yawning, but if she drank any more of the coffee in her thermos, then she’d have to pee. The last thing she needed was to be squatting in the bushes with her underwear down around her ankles when the perp showed up.
Then too, the night was disconcertingly quiet. Just very, very silent out there. Also, had the woods always been that shadowy and gloomy? She was pretty sure this was the darkest she’d ever seen them. The mill loomed off to the right, partially obscured by the trees in the thicket where she’d hidden her car. In the murky half-light from the moon, the building looked even more like a place that had no purpose any more, all hulking and deserted.
Not that she was scared being out here in the middle of nowhere all by herself. She was just taking stock of her surroundings, because she was a trained law enforcement officer, and that was what she was supposed to do. Besides, this was a graffitist she was dealing with, not another serial killer, so there really was nothing for her to worry about—
The glare of headlights flashed in her rearview mirror. A car had appeared out of nowhere. Abby’s heart lurched, an adrenaline-fueled staccato thudding away in her chest. The mystery vehicle wasn’t coming up the main road to the mill, but cutting along the old logging road, the same as Abby had taken. As if whoever it was knew she was here. As if they were looking for her.
In a panic, she grabbed her phone and called Dulcie, without even thinking about the time or the fact that Dulcie was on the other side of the country. When something went wrong on the job, it was just instinct to turn to Dulcie.
Surprisingly, Dulcie picked up on the first ring. “Abby, this really isn’t a good time.” She sounded out of breath, as if she were running.
“This way, Collins!” The other ma’am’s voice rang out, a breathy pant.
“Oh, oh, are you chasing a suspect? Do you know who killed the other ma’am’s partner?” Abby was suddenly wide awake.
“Come on, Collins! They’re getting away.”
Dulcie’s voice was even thinner and more winded as she said, “I’ll have to call you back.”
In all the excitement, Abby had kind of lost sight of why she’d called Dulcie in the first place, and she nearly leaped out of her skin when someone tapped on the passenger window. She turned to look, very slowly, a thick feeling of dread in the back of her throat, or possibly it was terror if she was being completely honest.
Whatever she expected to find, it definitely wasn’t Kate. She reached across to unlatch the door. “You’re—here.”
“And I brought dinner.” Kate slid into the seat.
The scent of burgers and fries filled the close space, and Abby’s stomach growled. “You didn’t have to.”
Kate’s smile was quick, conspiratorial, something just between the two of them. “Yeah, but I wanted to.” She took a bite of her burger. “I got called out to a multivehicle crash, just finished up, so I thought I’d come keep you company. Sorry I startled you. I would have called or texted, but I thought the noise from the phone might—I don’t know, scare off the perp or something.”
Abby nodded while she chewed. “Good thinking.” She darted a sideways glance over at Kate. “You always think smart things.”
The way Kate’s eyes crinkled at the corners—Abby really had to fight the impulse to press a kiss right there. “You know, when I first started working with your team, I wasn’t sure how to take it that you all seemed amazed whenever I did anything even minimally competent. Then I looked at some of my counterpart’s files, and it started to make more sense—” She stopped short. “Uh, no offense intended.”
Abby’s mouth was so full of fries that all she could do was shake her head vigorously. No one understood how utterly useless James was better than she did.
Kate had brought biscuits too, and they polished those off, passing Abby’s thermos of coffee back and forth. They didn’t say much. Four in the morning wasn’t a chatty hour, and Abby’s thoughts were slow and ponderous from lack of sleep, the way her body felt when she was moving underwater. It was nice, though, being here, just the two of them in the close confines of the car, a separate universe all their own.
By the time dawn started to glimmer on the horizon, there had still been no sign of the graffitist. The whole stakeout business seemed like a dumb idea in retrospect, and Abby was ready to give it up. Maybe she could convince Kate to join her for breakfast. A picture was taking shape in her head—the two of them trading smiles across the table at the diner, brushing hands as they reached for their coffee cups—when a beam of light flashed through the trees.
Something was happening at the mill.
“Shit,” Kate muttered beside her.
“Stay here.” Abby flung the door open and scrambled to catch it before it could slam shut.
She was so focused on quietly threading her way through the undergrowth that she didn’t notice at first that Kate was right behind her. Torchlight flickered across the façade, and Abby crouched down to watch for signs of the graffitist. There. A figure skulked along the side of the building, in a dark jacket with the hood pulled up. The perp’s face was cast in shadows, impossible to get an ID from this distance.
Abby rose slowly, took a careful step forward, and snapped a twig beneath her foot. The graffitist froze and scanned the woods for the source of the sound.
It was now or never. Abby charged forward. “Deadloch PD, you’re under arrest!”
The dark-hooded figure immediately legged it.
“Stop!” Abby raced after the suspect, dimly aware that Kate was hard on her heels.
The suspect found an open door and darted into the mill. Abby followed, Kate too. The main floor of the mill was still and utterly empty. There was nowhere to hide and no sign of the perp. Where could they have disappeared to?
Kate leaned in close to whisper, “Maybe over there?” The beam of her torch picked out a door set into the wall.
Abby nodded and led the way. Inside were more closed doors lining a corridor. She quietly approached one and pushed it open. Just an empty storeroom, dust floating in the air. All the rooms were empty until they came to the last door. In there they found a tarp covering—something. Abby exchanged a glance with Kate, who nodded, and they crept inside.
The tarp-covered pile was jammed into the far corner. They silently crossed the floor, Kate standing so close that Abby could feel the warmth of her body, the in and out of her breath. She paused, heart pounding in her chest, and yanked off the tarp. It was just a jumble of old, rusting equipment.
A sharp crack made Abby jump. She whirled around, adrenaline singing hotly in her blood. The door to the storage room had been slammed shut.
“No, no, no.” She rushed over and tried the handle. It wouldn’t budge. They’d been locked inside.
Kate looked on, the beam of her torch illuminating the worry in her eyes.
“It’s okay. I’ll just—” Abby patted her pocket for her phone. "Bum!" She’d left it sitting on the car seat.
“I don’t have mine either. It’s in my bag.”
Abby took a deep, calming breath. It was fine. They were fine. They’d find a way out of here. She trained her torch on the wall and walked the perimeter of the room, looking for another exit, a boarded-up window, something they might be able to use to batter open the door. There was nothing.
“Looks like we’re going to be here a while. Guess we should get comfortable.” Kate settled onto a patch of floor that was marginally less filthy than the rest.
That was the sensible thing to do. The problem was that Abby didn’t feel very sensible at the moment. Her hands were shaking and pretty much all the rest of her, too. Also, a cold sweat might be breaking out on her forehead? She pushed her face up to the keyhole and screamed for help at the top of her lungs, even though she was pretty sure no one was out there.
“Abby,” Kate said, soft and coaxing. “Sven knows you’re here. When you don’t show up at the station and aren’t answering your phone, he’s going to come looking for you. Everything’s going to be all right.” She patted the floor next to her.
Kate was right. Abby peeled herself away from the door and went to sit. After a moment, Kate’s hand drifted over, took Abby’s, gave it a squeeze. They stayed like that, hand in hand, not talking, because what was there to say? After a while, the concept of time seemed to lose all meaning, or it did to Abby anyway. Hours could have passed or maybe it was only minutes.
“Claustrophobia?” Kate asked at last, because apparently Abby had been clutching her hand kind of desperately.
Abby shook her head. It wasn’t small spaces that made her panic, that caused the breath to die in her lungs. It was the sense of being trapped. The longer they sat there, the harder her body had to work to draw in air, the lighter her head felt. Were they running out of oxygen? She was pretty sure they were running out of oxygen.
“I almost kissed a girl once,” she blurted out. It felt really important to say that for some reason, to get it out there, while she still could, while they were still—she swallowed hard and the whole story came tumbling out, that night, the girl and the coffee table, what she’d wanted to do in the moment but hadn’t, thinking she had all the time in the world when it was already too late.
Kate must have understood why Abby was telling her this now, because she flicked on her torch and flashed it high up on the wall. “Look up there.” The light fastened on a ventilation grate. “There’s plenty of air. We’re going to be fine. It’s not too late for anything, Abby.”
Her voice was soothing, kind, not the least bit judge-y that Abby was only human, and that felt really very—Abby turned toward her, leaning in closer. Kate reached for her in the darkness, the soft brush of fingers in her hair, trailing along the curve of her cheek. It was so quiet, just the sharp intake of their breath, and Abby suddenly felt much braver. Kate’s sweater was so beautifully soft as Abby trailed a hand down her arm, and the warm skin of her wrist was even softer.
Their bodies pressed close, and Abby’s senses were filled up by Kate: the heat from her, soft tease of her breath, her wonderfully familiar scent that was—lemongrass! Oh my God, she’d finally figured it out.
Kate laughed, a low, pleased noise, and Abby realized she must have said that out loud. “It’s my lotion. My hands get so chapped at work. I use it all the time.”
“You really do smell amazing,” Abby whispered, because they were holding each other in the dark and it just seemed the thing to do.
Kate’s hand slipped beneath her jacket, moving over the fabric of her shirt, making her shiver with every touch. “I’ve been thinking about this since I first saw you on the dock that day,” she whispered back.
Abby’s heart thumped in her throat. It was really going to happen. No more almost kissing Kate. Finally. She leaned in nearer still and—
The loud screech of hinges shattered the stillness. The door flung open, and a shaft of light cut the darkness, leaving Abby squinting mole-like in the sudden glare.
A figure stepped inside. “Oh my God! You’re really here. And Kate too. Huh. Am I interrupting something?” Sven made an oopsie face. “I feel like I’m interrupting. Maybe I should go back outside? You know what, I’m going to do that.”
They hauled themselves up from the dirty floor, and Kate reached for Abby’s hand, gave it one last squeeze. “Let’s pick that up later,” she said with a wink, which left Abby grinning.
Sven was waiting outside, and Abby just had to hug him, tightly enough that he let out a soft little oof. “Kate said you’d figure out where we were when I didn’t show up for work.”
He made the “oopsie” face again. “Yeah, about that—I just thought you were taking the day on account of how you spent all night sitting in your car? But then, someone phoned in an anonymous tip.” He made air quotes. “That’s how they actually phrased it.”
Abby blinked. She knew her brain was really tired, so it was hard for things to make sense, but— “What?”
“I know, right? So dramatic. Anyway, the anonymous tip person told me where to find you.” He huffed out a dejected sigh. “Well, I guess now that all the exciting rescuing stuff is over I really have no excuse not to go back to work.”
Abby nodded. “I’ll just pop by the station too.” Sven fixed her with his most deeply disappointed look—he really didn’t approve of going above and beyond on the job—and she hurried to add, “Just to return the night vision goggles I borrowed that don’t seem to be working or possibly I just couldn’t figure them out. Then maybe—” She glanced hopefully over at Kate.
“Breakfast,” Kate said definitely. “Lots of it. And all the coffee we can pour down our throats. Also, there should be a nap somewhere in our future.”
Abby beamed at her. She couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the bleary morning after what was probably one of the dumbest stakeouts in law enforcement history.
Sven eyed them both indulgently. “Right. Back to the station then.”
When they arrived, Annie Jenkinson and her daughter Melissa were sitting in reception, arguing in hissed whispers, which stopped as soon as they caught sight of people in uniform. Abby darted a pleading look at Sven, because whatever this was, it looked like too much drama to deal with on no sleep, and also, she’d almost kissed Kate for the second time, and she really needed to remove the “almost” from that statement at the earliest possible opportunity.
Sven sighed heavily, but he pulled on a dutiful smile and went to greet the visitors.
Kate trailed along with Abby back to the equipment storage room to return the night vision goggles. There was something about being surrounded by geeky technology things while Kate was only an arm’s length away, looking all sexy and tousled and smelling so very lemongrass-y that really made Abby want to—
“Um. Sorry.” Sven appeared in the doorway, biting his lip. “But I’m pretty sure you’re going to want to hear this.”
Abby shook her so hard it made her a little dizzy. “I really, really, really, really—"
“Melissa is the anonymous tip person,” Sven interrupted before she could get out don’t want to hear it. “She’s also the one who locked you guys in that windowless, dirty little room in the middle of nowhere. And you guessed it, she’s the graffitist, too.”
“Dumb kid doing dumb things,” Kate muttered.
There was a weird too-hot sensation in the pit of Abby’s stomach. Also, her jaw was clenched, and her hands had curled themselves into fists. Was this what it felt like to be really fucking pissed off? She thought it might be. “Right. I’ll just go talk to them.”
“Um, I put them in the conference room. But Abs, the thing is, you look really mad? It’s kind of disconcerting, actually. Maybe you should wait until—”
“I’m fine. Totally fine.” Abby stomped off in the direction of the conference room.
Kate followed. She wasn’t a police officer and technically she shouldn’t be allowed to sit in on an interview, but they’d both been trapped in that storeroom, and Abby was just going to consider Kate an honorary constable for the purposes of the very infuriating conversation they were about to have.
They took seats at the table, facing off against the girl and her mother. There was a telltale bandage on Melissa's hand. “So, I think you have something to tell us.” Abby only sounded a little bit like she wanted to lock Melissa in a cell and forget where she put the key. She was quite proud of herself for that.
Being the teenager that she was, Melissa said nothing, just stared back sullenly.
“Go on,” her mother prompted. “We agreed.”
“Fine,” Melissa declared with a roll of her eyes. “I painted the dicks. I can’t believe you were actually on a stakeout over it. Like it’s just some graffiti. Get serious.”
Abby gritted her teeth and dug deep into her reserves of patience. “Why were you painting penises all over town, exactly?”
“Because I’m going to art school? And this is the project for my application?” Melissa huffed out an impatient breath, as if they somehow should have realized this without being told. “It’s like a totally profound statement on what this town is really about.”
Abby had never expected that there would be a good reason for the penis graffiti, but she hadn’t anticipated one quite this stupidly self-important, either.
Kate clearly shared the opinion, because she said in a deadpan, “There’s nothing less profound than a penis.”
Melissa shot her a dark look. “Oh, yeah? Where’d you study art?"
Mrs. Jenkinson quickly interjected, “I know there’s been a bit of bother about all this, and we really are so very sorry that the two of you were inconvenienced by Melissa’s little lapse in judgement.”
Abby stared at the woman. Inconvenience? Lapse in judgement? She’d always thought that the thing about seeing red when you were filled with rage was just poetic license, but no, apparently it was an actual thing that happened. Right now, the entire conference room was bathed in a seething shade of crimson.
Melissa’s mom breezed on, apparently not very good at reading the room. “My little girl is just so bright and talented, and she has such big things ahead of her. I’d hate to see her future affected by something this trivial. So, I was really hoping we could just—” She made a dismissive little wave with her hand. “Forget all about it.”
Abby glared so hard it made her face kind of hurt. “That’s not—"
“Maybe there is a way around formal charges,” Kate broke in, which was really very confusing, until she asked Abby, “Does what’s his name, the school janitor, still refuse to clean the dick graffiti off the desks?”
Abby got it then. Kate was a genius and her absolute favorite. “Mr. Worley, and yep, on account of him being such a raging homophobe that he’s convinced even just touching a picture of a dick could potentially turn him gay.”
This was how responsibility for desk de-dicking had fallen to the Deadloch police.
“And does he still have the same weekend cleaning schedule?”
Abby nodded. “He starts bright and early every Saturday at 6am.”
“Then I’d say we’ve found the perfect community service project for Melissa,” Kate announced, with a deeply satisfied smile.
“Sure have,” Abby agreed, enjoying the increasingly alarmed expression on Melissa’s face. “In exchange for no charges, you can report to Mr. Worley every Saturday at 6am for desk de-dicking duty until you graduate.”
“But that’s a whole year!” Melissa complained loudly. “It’s not fair!”
Mrs. Jenkinson cut a sharp look at her. “Do you want a police record?” she hissed under her breath. To Abby, she said, “Thank you, Constable. We appreciate your discretion. Melissa will be happy to do her part for our community.”
Melissa glared at her mother, not the least bit happy about any of this. “Unbelievable! We could have just called in the anonymous tip like I said, but oh no, you had to insist on this stupid confession, because it would look better if I gave myself up rather than waiting to get caught or whatever. But that was never going to happen, was it? Because they’re just not that smart!”
Mrs. Jenkinson scrambled to her feet. “We’ll be going now.” She dragged her daughter toward the door.
“This is child abuse! Or slavery! Or—something!” Melissa shouted on her way out.
As soon as they were gone, Kate asked, “Do you think she’s actually getting into art school?”
“I sure hope not,” Abby answered truthfully.
This made Kate grin. “Congratulations are in order, you know. The case is officially solved.”
Abby could feel her shoulders actually drop in relief. “Oh, thank God. I hope this means Aleyna will finally stop texting me now.”
Kate laughed and then her expression went softer. “Should we get out of here and go celebrate?”
Abby bounced up from her seat. “Let’s go now before anything else happens.”
Sven clapped when he caught sight of them. “I don’t know what you said to Melissa, but you’re so my hero. She left here looking mad enough to spit. Did you know she actually tripped me, like totally on purpose, when we were competing in the Deadloch Carnival Days sack race?”
“You have Kate to thank for that,” Abby told him. “She has all the best ideas.”
“Don’t listen to her, Sven. It was a team effort.”
They must have been gazing at each other with a bit—or probably a lot— of poorly disguised longing, because Sven cleared his throat. “Um, maybe I should just go do something somewhere else.” He stood up from his desk.
“That’s okay.” Whatever had held Abby back in the past—being shy or feeling uncertain because she’d never kissed a girl before or worrying what people might think—none of that mattered now.
Kate was smiling fondly as Abby pulled her close. Their mouths settled sweetly together, the kiss soft, leisurely. Abby had waited so long. She wasn’t going to rush anything now. Kate stroked a hand tenderly over Abby’s back and caught Abby’s bottom lip between hers, worrying it gently, making Abby sigh and hold on even more tightly.
God, Kate felt so right in her arms, the shape and heat and softness of her. Abby darted out her tongue to touch the line between Kate’s lips and then stroked inside, lightly exploring, shivering with the sensation of it. She was amazed how different it felt to kiss someone she actually liked, who liked her in return. All she wanted was for the kiss to go on and on and on.
A phone rang, but it wasn’t Abby’s—that was still sitting on her car seat—and she definitely would have ignored it anyway.
“Uh, Abs?” Sven interrupted hesitantly. “It’s Dulcie. Did you call her at, like, 3am last night? Because she sounds pretty worried about you.”
Kate pulled back, just a little. “Go on. Let her know you’re okay. And then we can get out of here.”
Abby nodded eagerly—another perfect Kate-plan—and she took Sven’s phone. “Hi, ma’am. Sorry I worried you. Some stuff happened, and it was kind of bad for a while, but now everything’s okay. Actually, it’s better than okay, because I just kissed someone I’ve been wanting to kiss for a really long time.” She smiled happily at Kate.
There was a moment of silence. “Well, I can’t decide whether to say ‘good job’ or ‘it’s about time,’ so why don’t I say both?”
Abby could hear the other ma’am in the background. “What is it, Collins?”
“Abby finally kissed Kate,” Dulcie answered.
“Thank Christ. I mean, that whole thing was just stretching on and on and on—”
Dulcie cut her off. “Maybe you’d like to say something that’s actually supportive? Like, I don’t know, congratulations maybe?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, sure.” She must have pulled Dulcie’s phone toward her, because suddenly her voice was much louder. “Way to go, Big Eyes.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Actually, if both you ma’ams don’t mind, I’d like to hang up now and go do some more kissing.” From the way Kate was eyeing her, she was also good with this plan.
“I think that sounds like a fine idea,” Dulcie told her. “Our lead last night didn’t pan out quite as we’d hoped, so we’ll be here a bit longer, but we’ll see you when we get back.”
Abby handed Sven his phone, but she never took her eyes off Kate.
“You ready?” Kate asked, with a little smile.
Abby smiled back. She’d never been more ready in her life.