I could almost hear Karissa moaning from the other room - the ghosts of her sounds from our first time together. I remembered Maxwell's rippling sides...while she rode him with me on his face. Flat on my back, I curled my fist around my own hair as if it was hers, as if we were back in that room on the day I brought her into my business, as if it were Maxwell fucking me with his dick, his face, his chest.I heard a door close and knew it was Jean's client leaving. She would return to her room and. Turns out that the department was right. Her mother’s killer was both…dead and convicted in other crimes. The man had been executed for killing six white women. In exactly the same way that he had killed her mother. But because her mother was black they had never made the connection to crimes that bore a remarkable resemblance to her mother’s death. So now she knew. Knew who killed her mother. She even knew why. The FBI had profiled the man extensively before his death. After he had converted. More

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