Lover Beware

raised one eyebrow, then shrugged. “Killroy is one of the good guys.”
    “Come on, Jerry. Are you going soft on me? We both know when it comes to murder there are no good guys. Everyone is a potential suspect. Guilty until proven innocent.” She shook her head. “The perp who attacked Barker might be trash and one brick short of a load, but he’s not your serial killer. I’d wager my shield on the fact that the French Quarter serial killer is good looking, clean, and an overall charmer.”
    “Is that the profiler talking or the PID?”
    She shook her head. “Barker herself said the guy was a creep. Filthy. Stank to high heaven—like fish. Probably works the docks.”
    She rubbed her temple, the images she had received at Bobbie Cox’s apartment distinct in her mind.
    This guy isn’t so bad. Good looking, clean, compassionate. Hands reach for the keys—nice hands, well manicured.
    “The M.E. reports all described the victims as between five six and five eight. Your killer is taller. Six feet. Your height. Maybe.” She smiled and looked into his eyes. “The perp who attacked Barker was five six. Same height as she is.”
    He stared at her. “So what the hell makes you think the killer is six feet tall?”
    She tips back her head and looks into his eyes.
    Jerry looked into her eyes and nodded. “Okay. Understood.”

Chapter 5
    AT FOUR-TEN A.M. Rosalyn Barker identified Angel Gonzales as the man who assaulted her. An APB for Gonzales was immediately dispatched.
    At seven, Anna sat on her hotel bed, watching the morning news and images of Jerry and Captain Killroy sharing their mutual enthusiasm over at long last identifying the man whom they believed to be the French Quarter Killer.
    Anna smiled up at Jerry as he handed her a cup of coffee and sat down on the bed beside her.
    “I wish you looked more excited.” He sipped his hot coffee as Anna looked back at the television screen.
    “You’ve identified the man who assaulted Rosalyn. I’m very happy about that.”
    “But you aren’t convinced he’s a serial killer.”
    “No.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Gonzales might have killed her if he had the opportunity. Probably not. I think his threat to cut off her head was an attempt to scare her. The knife he used to assault Rosalyn doesn’t even match the M.E.’s description of the weapon used to eviscerate the previous victims.”
    Jerry stood up and began to pace. Anna watched him, knowing only too well what thoughts were going through his mind. Jerry was damn good at his job—prided himself at being the best D.A. in the state.
    “I understand how you’re feeling—”
    “Do you?” He raked one hand through his hair. “My neck is on the line here, Anna.”
    “I understand.”
    “I’ve got the senator and governor breathing down my neck, not to mention this city—the safety of this city—and the media—”
    “You’ve never let them manipulate you before, Jerry.”
    “I’ve never had a situation like this, Anna. Not on my watch.”
    “Is Senator Jack Strong or Governor Damascus going to stand beside you if you bungle this, Jerry?” She set her coffee cup down and left the bed, caught his arm so he was forced to stop pacing. “Hey.” Touching his cheek, she smiled. “We both know they won’t. If you’re wrong about Gonzales, it’ll be you the people of this state will fry.”
    He took her in his arms and held her. “I want this son of a bitch, Anna. The freak killed my godson and goddaughter. He destroyed my best friend’s life.”
    “Don’t let it get personal, Jerry. You can’t. You know that. When the heart gets involved…” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “The mind gets confused.”
    He held her tighter, and although she knew she should pull away, she couldn’t find the strength to do it. She was ignoring her own advice—but it’d been so damn long, she’d missed him so much. Men had come and gone in her life the last six years and still no one had managed to touch her in the ways that Jerry Costos could.
    Not emotionally, or physically.
    They lapsed into silence as they held one another, Anna’s ear pressed against his warm chest, the noise from the morning traffic outside the window dwindling with the sound of her heart beating in her ears.
    “Anna,” he whispered, the words spoken so softly they were almost lost amid the hum of the air-conditioning unit fluttering the curtains over the window. “I want to make love to you.”
    Her mouth