Sex, Lies, and Online Dating Read Online Free Page A

evidence for an arrest. He wasn’t afraid he’d be another victim. No, he wasn’t thrilled about the thought of dangling his Schwanz in front of a psycho.
    Quinn turned off Fairview and merged onto the connector. Streetlights lit up the section of highway leading into downtown like a white ribbon. He tried the heater once more, and warm air blasted through the vents as he headed toward Broadway and home.
    All of the women the detectives had set up these past two weeks had several things in common that had landed them on the suspect list. They were all dating online and had been contacted by all three of the victims within days of their deaths. They all used the same chain of dry cleaners, and they all lived alone.
    All three male victims had had several things in common that had landed them on the perpetrator’s list. All had been actively dating, as if they’d been on some mission from God. All had had a long list of women they’d been juggling, going on as many as five or six dates in a week—usually with different women, whom they’d met through online dating services, chat rooms, and personal ads. Judging by the number of books they’d charged at Barnes and Noble, Borders, and Hastings Books and Music, they’d been voracious readers. The first victim had been divorced, the second a widower, and the third married but posing as a widower. All three had died handcuffed to their beds.
    The first victim, Charles Wilson, aka chuckles, had been found in his home off Overland, hands secured with flexi-cuffs and a Westco dry cleaner’s garment bag over his head. The case had been classified a homicide, but to what degree had been uncertain. Considering the presentation of the body, it appeared the victim had been playing a fatal game of erotic asphyxiation with a rather kinky participant. The perpetrator had fled the scene leaving little evidence behind, and it was Quinn’s job to determine if the kink had accidently gone bad or the death had been premeditated.
    They’d interviewed Mr. Wilson’s family and friends, who’d all claimed that he hadn’t been seriously dating anyone for over a year. His former wife had remarried and lived out of state. Quinn had combed through his credit card receipts and his telephone records. He’d just about eliminated everyone Charles had been in contact with by phone or e-mail when the second victim had been discovered. Two bodies wasn’t coincidence. The men’s deaths hadn’t been accidental, and by the time the third body turned up, they’d known they had a serial killer on their hands.
    Charles Wilson had been murdered a month and a half ago, and if the detectives didn’t move fast, there would be a fourth victim.
    Soon.
    Nobody wanted that. And nobody wanted the Crimes of Violence detectives to catch a break more than Quinn did. He had no qualms about lying to women, and trapping a killer was part of his job. It had been several years since he’d worked undercover, and there had been times when he’d missed it. No, what he absolutely hated was reciting the mushy lines Kurt had written for him.
    Quinn pulled his Jeep into his driveway and cut the headlights as he rolled into the garage. He parked next to his white unmarked police car and turned off the engine. Like always, Millie heard him and was waiting for him when he opened the back door. She was one female who was faithful, if a bit overly affectionate sometimes. He flipped on the light as he walked into the kitchen. Her big brown eyes looked up at him with adoration, and the light shone in her silky red hair.
    “Hey girl.” She licked his hand, and he went down on one knee. “You’re a good dog.” He scratched beneath her long ears, and her tongue flopped out of the side of her mouth in ecstasy. Her tail thumped the hardwood floor as Quinn’s gaze took in the blinking light on his answering machine and the explosion of feathers scattered about the room.
    A frown pulled at his mouth as he stood. Beneath the