Callie Hanson, a Crime Scene Investigator with the Chicago Police Department, discovers her boyfriend is not only married, but unwilling to let Callie leave him. Moving from the big city to escape him, she joins the police force in a tiny Iowa town. Now, after one woman is missing and another is found murdered, it appears there's a serial killer loose…and he's after Callie.
Remington Winslow, local boy turned sexy high school principal, is interviewed by the police when one of his teachers goes missing. The attraction between Callie and Rem is instant and hot, but can he help her stay safe before the stalker gets her?
He looked at her dead body then closed his eyes, realizing she wasn’t Callie. He thought she looked like Callie when she left her rental house this morning, looking all fresh and pure. He hadn’t been able to get to Callie so he did the next best thing. He drove through town until he spotted the trim pretty blond walking into the building from the deserted parking lot at the elementary school and followed her in. She had pleaded with him to let her go. He liked it when they begged. Someday Callie would be begging him. He got hard just thinking of what he was going to do to her.
He saw Callie her first day in town and knew that he had to have her. She was so beautiful. He had followed her for a couple of days, watching as she looked at rental property. The newspaper printed a story about her the following Sunday. She’d been hired to work as a patrol officer/crime scene investigator and had moved here from Illinois, where she’d been an officer with the Chicago Police. She had been here for three months now and he was getting ready to make his move. He had to have her. He parked his mother’s car a block away and moved quietly through the alleyway to her back yard. Checking to see if any of Callie’s neighbors were out and about first, he moved to her tree-shaded backyard and peeked into her bedroom window. He watched as she slept, and then continued to peer at her throughout her morning routine. When she left with her laundry, he hurried to his mom’s car, which he had “borrowed” this morning. Driving the streets opposite of her, he parked in the rear of the laundromat and watched her through the back door. Figuring that she would be busy washing and drying her clothes for at least an hour, he hurried back to her house and entered it via the back door. She never latched the screen and the lock on the old wooden door was easy enough to pick with a credit card.
Once inside, he helped himself to a couple of the cookies that she had baked that morning before he made his way into her bedroom. He’d been watching her for over three months and knew exactly where she kept the things he wanted. He chose only two satin and lace thongs— one black and the other royal blue. Rubbing the satin against his face, he closed his eyes and remembered the last time he’d seen her wearing them. He was so hard by now that he could barely walk into her bathroom where he took a big hair clip similar to the ones she wore when she was on duty. Lifting a bottle of her perfume, he smelled the scent then put it down and picked up another. He finally found the one he was looking for and tucked the bottle into the pocket of his jacket. It was the same scent that she had been wearing the first day that he had seen her. He remembered because he bumped into her as she and the police chief walked into Nagle’s.
The sound of a car door shutting brought him back to the present and before he could get out of the house he heard the front door open and slam shut. Quickly, he hid behind the door of the closet and watched as Callie came into the room. From his hiding place, he watched as she put away her fresh laundry and made the bed. Without moving a fraction, he peered at her as she stripped off her clothes and walked naked into the bathroom then heard the water turn on.
When he saw her firm naked body he grew even harder and hoped that his heavy breathing didn’t give him away. She would be his soon but it was daylight and her neighbors would hear her if he tried to take her now. He was ready for her but he could wait until the time was right. Slowly, he crept from his hiding place to stand just outside the bathroom door and watch as she showered, the frosted glass shower doors only muting her figure. He watched as she used the shower puff to soap her body, running it over her breasts, down her flat stomach, and between her legs. It was almost as if she showered for him. His erection grew even harder and he groaned as she bent over to wash her legs, her small firm bottom pressed up against the shower door. He knew he should leave while he had the chance but couldn’t pull himself away. He wanted that shower puff fresh after she used it and decided to wait until she left to grab it.
He had barely made it back to his hiding space behind the closet door when she walked out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel wrapped around her body. Watching from his secret hiding place, he stared as she slipped a white satin thong up her toned shapely legs. For the first time he noticed her smooth shaved mound. The bareness between her legs afforded him a glimpse of the soft pink lips of her sex and a slight whimper escaped his mouth. Next, she pulled on her police pants leaving herself topless, her full firm breasts perfect, their taut nipples pointing out hard and proud. She walked into the bathroom and he heard the hair dryer turn on. Only then did he let out his breath, not realizing he’d been holding it in.
When she returned to the bedroom, she put on a white lacy bra and her uniform shirt, which highlighted the sweet spot between her full breasts and the flat of her stomach. He watched as she slipped on her work shoes then walked out of the room. Within five minutes he heard her close the front door and the engine of her car start. He walked into the bathroom and grabbed her shower puff. He pushed it up to his face, the water running down the front of his shirt and over his hands as he inhaled the vanilla scent of her body wash. Seeing the towel that she had wrapped around herself tossed on the bed he moved to stand over it, and unzipping his jeans, released his erection and jacked himself off onto the still damp linen.
The scenery in Iowa was so much different than it was in Chicago. Out here there were no high rises, no miles of cement streets, or hundreds of people walking down the sidewalks almost in a stupor. Here everything was green and fresh. When you saw people walking down the streets of the little city they stopped and talked to you. People didn’t lock their doors and left their windows opened at night. There were no sirens piercing the air and children played outdoors in the grass yards, laughing and singing.
And there was no Ryan.
The only disadvantage that Callie Hanson had discovered after moving from Chicago to Pointe Bluff, Iowa was the occasional smell that blew in when the breeze came from the north. Then you could smell from Bob Driver’s feed lot but even that was better than a normal day of smog and emissions filling the air and polluting the lungs of the people who lived in Chicago. After three months in Pointe Bluff, she could honestly say that she was happy with her move. She had a nice little rental house, she loved her job, and Ryan had not found her. Never again would she have to worry about him harassing her, chasing her, lying to her.
The morning dispatcher called her car number and dispatched her to the Pointe Bluff Elementary School.
“See Principal Rem Winslow about one of the teachers missing.”
“10-4,” Callie responded and turned a U at the next intersection. Going to speak to Rem Winslow made her want to check her rear view mirror and fluff her hair. She’d never spoken to the man but had seen him in town, and he was hot. Every woman in town, married and single, was in love with the elementary school principal. He’d gone off to college as an average-built, good-looking local boy-next-door, and returned four years later with a teaching degree and a body that could grace any magazine. Preferably one where he was shirtless with his pants hanging low on his hips. From what Callie could gather, Remington Winslow was the only son born to a wealthy farming family who had planted crops and raised cattle in Iowa since the 1860’s.
He was quiet, never revealing much about his personal life, though always pleasant and willing to make small talk when needed. He was divorced and didn’t date that anyone in town knew about. When he wasn’t busy working at school, he could be found helping out on the family farm. His parents had five daughters before they had him and were now anxious for their only son to carry on the Winslow name and pro-create the next generation.
Parking in front of the school, Callie quickly checked her hair and face in the SUV’s sun visor mirror then got out and walked into the dark, cool hallways of the school. The secretary’s desk was vacant but the door leading to the Principal’s office was open. She could see Rem standing with his back to the door, his head down looking over some papers. She knocked and watched as Rem turned then had to remind herself to breath. Remington Winslow was even sexier, taller, and more gorgeous up close than he was from a distance.
“Mr. Winslow,” she said, walking into the small office. “Dispatch tells me you are missing a teacher?”
He stared at her, starting from her pulled back hair down her uniform, then up again into her eyes where he held her gaze. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Was that a glimpse of male appreciation in his eyes, or had she spilled coffee down her shirt? Mr. Winslow,” she tried again when he still hadn’t responded.
He shook his head and smiled at her. “I’m sorry. My mind is elsewhere.” He took a couple steps toward her and reached out his hand, “I’m Remington Winslow. Please call me Rem.”
“Callie Hanson.” They looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, she asked again, “Dispatch says that one of your teachers is missing?”
“Yes, please sit down,” he moved around to the other side of his big wooden desk and stood until she was seated in one of the straight back chairs facing his desk. He continued speaking after he sat. “Miss Turner, our fifth grade teacher was to come to an all-teacher staff meeting this morning. Her roommate, Christy Vanderpool, also a teacher here, said that Eva, Miss Turner, left their apartment around seven this morning so she could work in her classroom before the meeting. Her car is in the parking lot but she wasn’t at the meeting. We’ve been to her classroom and it’s still locked.”
He went on to say that he checked with the security company and he was the first one in the building and had unlocked the front door and turned off the alarm at 7:45. “We had our meeting at 8:15 as scheduled, and when she still didn’t show up, I called the police.”