Once Craved (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #3)

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Authors: Blake Pierce
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cravings.
    And didn’t he have
every right? What healthy adult man didn’t have his cravings?
    Now they were going
to send divers down in the lake to look for bodies. He knew what they might
find there, even after some three years. He didn’t like that at all.
    It wasn’t just out
of concern for himself. Oddly, he felt bad for the lake. Having divers probe
and poke into its every submerged nook and cranny struck him as rather obscene
and invasive, an inexcusable violation. After all, the lake hadn’t done
anything wrong. Why should it be harassed?
    Anyway, he wasn’t
worried. There was no way they were going to trace either victim back to him.
It simply wasn’t going to happen. He was through with that lake, though. He
hadn’t yet decided where to deposit his next victim, but he was sure he would
come to a decision before the night was over.
    Now the vivacious
girl was looking at his car. She started walking toward him, with lots of sass
in her step.
    He rolled down the
passenger window and she poked her head in. She was a dark-skinned Latina,
heavily made-up with thick lip liner, colorful eye shadow, and fierce arched
eyebrows that seemed to be tattoos. Her earrings were big gold-painted
crucifixes.
    “Nice car,” she
said.
    He smiled.
    “What’s a nice girl
like you doing out so late?” he asked. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
    “Maybe you’d like to
tuck me in,” she said, smiling.
    Her teeth struck him
as remarkably clean and straight. Indeed, she looked remarkably healthy. That
was pretty rare out here on the streets, where most of the girls were “tweakers,”
in various stages of meth addiction.
    “I like your style,”
he said. “Very chola .”
    Her smile broadened.
He could see that she took being called a Latina gangbanger as a compliment.
    “What’s your name?”
he asked.
    “Socorro.”
    Ah, “socorro,” he thought. Spanish for “help.”
    “I’ll bet you give
great socorro, ” he said in a leering tone.
    Her deep brown eyes
leered right back. “You look like maybe you could use some socorro right
now. ”
    “Maybe I could,” he
said.
    But before they
could start settling terms, a car pulled into the space right behind him. He
heard a man call out from the driver window.
    “¡Socorro!” he yelled. “¡Vente!”
    The girl drew
herself up with a rather lame show of indignation.
    “¿Porqué?” she yelled back.
    “Vente aquí,
¡puta!”
    The man detected a
trace of fear in the girl’s eyes. It couldn’t be because the man in the car had
called her a whore. He guessed that the man was her pimp, checking on her to
see how much cash she had brought in so far tonight.
    “¡Pinche Pablo!” She muttered the all-purpose
insult under her breath. Then she walked toward the car.
    The man sat there,
wondering if she was going to come back, still wanting to do business with him.
Either way, he didn’t like it. Waiting around was not his style.
    His interest in the
girl suddenly vanished. No, he wouldn’t bother with her. She had no idea how
lucky she was.
    Besides, what was he
doing slumming like this? His next victim ought to be classier.
    Chiffon, he thought. He’d almost
forgotten about Chiffon. But maybe I’ve just been saving her for a special
occasion.
    He could wait. It
didn’t have to be tonight. He drove away, gloating over his show of
self-restraint, despite his enormous cravings. He considered that one of his
best personal qualities.
    He was, after all, a
very civilized man.

Chapter Ten
     
    The three young
women in the interview room didn’t look at all like Riley had expected. For a
few moments she just watched them through the one-way window. They were
tastefully dressed, almost like well-paid secretaries. She’d been told their
names were Mitzi, Koreen, and Tantra. Of course Riley was sure that those weren’t
their real names.
    Riley also doubted
that they dressed so acceptably when they were on the job. Working for about
250 dollars per hour, they’d surely

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