Pretenses Chapter 8

I PRACTICALLY DRAGGED Savannah to school and hurried home. There was a river between my legs. Keyth pulled me in and closed the door. First he pulled off my uniform jacket, then the tee shirt I wore underneath. He flicked his tongue over my nipples and I lost control. I took him, right there, on the floor, in the foyer. Then we climb in the shower and he washed my back.

Totally relaxed, I found myself thinking about the case, still wondering who the intended victim was. Keyth was talking to me, but I had no idea what he was saying. I didn't mean to ignore him, but I couldn't shake the thought of that mark on Judge Taylor's leg. Somehow, I knew it was the key to understanding what had really happened that night. But what kind of weapon had been used and why?

"Are you listening to me?" Keyth asked.

"I'm sorry, baby. No. I was thinking about the Taylor case."

"That's what I was asking you about. What do you think happened?"

"Deep down?"

"Yeah. Deep down."

"For some reason, I think the killer wanted or needed to kill Judge Taylor with his bare hands. What I can't figure out is who wanted her dead. Was it someone from one of the radical feminist groups angry over the abortion issue? Or was it someone who had appeared before her?"

"Have you given much consideration to the husband being the target?"

"Yes, but the man's a lawyer. Who wanted him dead?"

"Probably a lot of people." Keyth laughed.

"Guess what?" I asked.

"What?"

"I'm going to meet the President."

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