Gavin tossed the pictures aside and picked up the glass, swallowing hard what was left. A small amount of wine dribbled down the side. He set it down just as his wife walked in. She looked at him and then the glass, disgust radiating from her face.

“Put something under that, or you’ll damage the desk,” Melody Gavin snapped. She rushed over to him, lifted the glass, and stared at the ring on the wood. “Damn it, why can’t you be more careful? Jesus Christ, this is ruined now!”

Melody grabbed the closest thing, which was Gavin’s notepad, seeming to not care if anything important was written on it. She placed the glass on top of the center of the pad, covering a portion of what he had written. “This was my grandfather’s desk. It’s been in my family for over a hundred years and it only takes you one evening to destroy it.”

“He did give it to me,” Gavin said calmly. Melody’s hair had fallen over her eyes. He reached up gently and pushed it back from her face. She swatted his hand.

He stood up, taking her wrist softly, and pulled her into him. Melody struggled, jerking away, but Gavin held on and drew her close to him. He lowered his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. For a second he felt her respond, her hands gripping him. Wanting him.

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry.” He smiled and kissed her neck. “You like being angry with me, don’t you?” He ran his fingers through her hair.

Suddenly her hands were on his shoulders, pushing him away. “Mitch! Stop it,” Melody yelled. “You’re tangling my hair.”

“Forget about the hair.” He ran his hand through again, purposely messing it. “It looks wild now. Let me see if I can drive you wild.” He leaned into her, kissing her again, merely brushing her lips this time.

She shoved him, hard. “I said to stop it!”

He stood back from her. “I’m not even sure I remember the last time you let me touch you,” he snapped. He was ready to say more but stopped.

Melody said nothing. For the first time she looked as if she was going to confess what Gavin suspected to be true. But she just simply walked out.

9

Val sat on the floor next to the dead woman, inspecting the emaciated body. She wasn’t surprised this life was cut short. This person had obviously been a drug addict. As she glanced around at the room, she couldn’t help but notice how poorly the victim lived—cheap, grimy furniture, threadbare, stained rugs—all of her money must have gone to support the habit; well almost all. There was a fifty-inch TV mounted on the wall.