“He’s out of control. I’m not answering any questions without a lawyer.” This wasn’t Spivak’s first trip to the police interview room. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, his nasty gaze landing on Stella’s chest. “Unless she strips down and gives me a look at her tits.”

And that was the end of the interview. Stella got up and opened the door for the uniform standing outside the door. “Put Mr. Spivak in holding.”

“I won’t be in here long, not once my lawyer gets a look at this.” Spivak pointed to his abraded cheek and split lip. “And when I get out, I’ll be keeping an eye out for you around town.” He pointed at Stella and licked his lips. “I want to bite into you like a ripe peach.”

He was looking for a response, so Stella didn’t give it to him. She gathered her papers into her folder. But inside, her stomach protested the images his words put in her head. Plenty of criminals tried to intimidate her with sexual insults and comments. It was one thing about being a female cop that she couldn’t get used to no matter how hard she tried. But this was somehow worse. Spivak wasn’t some idiot loser spewing empty threats. This man was cunning, cruel.

Based on the disgusting visual he’d given her earlier, he liked handcuffs.

Had he sent her the photo of Missy’s body? He was definitely the type who would enjoy tormenting a woman. Despite the heat in the room, goose bumps rose on Stella’s arms.

The uniform spun Spivak around with unnecessary force, snapped the cuffs on his wrists, and marched him down the hall.

Below the general sense of disgust, anger rumbled in Stella’s throat. She tapped Lance on the chest and pointed to the door. He followed her into the hall, where the camera on the ceiling didn’t record audio.

She leaned close and whispered, “What was all that?”

“He’s a lying scumbag,” Lance’s voice was low, but the rage on his face startled her. “I should have put his head through the wall. He’s a waste of oxygen.”

“He was goading you, and you let him.”

He studied his Frankenstein cop shoes. His shoulders slumped.

“Are you all right? This behavior isn’t like you.”

“I’m working on it.” He ran his hand through his buzz cut. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. It won’t happen again.”

Stella exhaled. “You want to talk about it?”

Lance clamped his teeth together. “I’m not real happy with psycho druggies right now.”

Like the one who’d shot him.

Lance punched his palm with his fist. “And the thought of that guy stalking you makes me want to snap his neck.”