He stepped to the middle of the basement, cleared his throat. “You are all under arrest for possession of a controlled substance. Get up. Now.” Most of the idiots began to stir. He raised his voice another notch and proceeded as though he’d uncovered a multi-million-dollar drug ring instead of a few bucks worth of weed. “On your knees. Now. Hands behind your head.”
Their big eyes started paying attention in a hurry.
“Which one of you is David Benson?”
They were all quick to point at a tall, skinny, curly-haired guy. Ty moved in front of the blond kid that was still slouched on a couch.
“The rest of you, upstairs with Detective Riley. Wait in the front room and answer her questions politely. If you show any disrespect, I will add resisting arrest and assault of an officer to your drug charges. Do we understand each other? Move. Now.”
Four guys shuffled upstairs with Isobel.
Ty turned back to the blond kid. “Are you David Benson?”
“Yeah. But that pot isn’t mine. I don’t smoke; you can ask any of the guys. Do a blood test if you want.”
“David, I’m not here because of the pot.” Ty looked the kid over, paying careful attention to his hands and face, checking for signs he’d been in a recent struggle. He saw nothing. “Do you have a girlfriend named Hailey King?”
“Yeah,” David answered. “But she doesn’t do drugs, either. She hardly ever even has a beer. If you found drugs here, she for sure didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Ty holstered his gun, grabbed a folding chair and straddled it backwards in front of David. “I’m not here because of drugs, David. I’m sorry to have to tell you this. Hailey King was found murdered early this morning. I need to know when you saw her last.”
Ty watched the kid’s hungover brain attempt to process the information.
“What? Is this some kind of sick joke? Who the fuck are you? Where’s Hailey?” The kid shot to his feet.
Ty stood, too. “Sit down, David.”
The kid stared at Ty for a moment, and then tears rolled from his eyes. “Who are you?” David asked again, but this time he was struggling to get the words out. “Where is Hailey? I want to see Hailey.”
“I’m Officer Tyler McGee from the Longdale Police Department.” Ty pulled out his badge, but the kid never even glanced at it. “I’m investigating a murder. I need for you to tell me the last time you saw Hailey King alive.”
David collapsed back on the sofa and dropped his head in his hands. “Jesus, I’m dreaming. Having a fucking nightmare.”
Ty pulled out a picture of Hailey that her roommate had given him. “Is this your girlfriend?”
David nodded.
“When did you see her last?”
“Last night. She was here at the party until late. We sort of had a fight, so I played poker most of the night in the basement. She stayed upstairs with the girls. I went up to check on her about one or two. I told her I’d put my shoes on and walk her home, but when I got back downstairs, the guys said she already left.”
“When did you see her for the last time? Can you narrow it down to a smaller time frame than an hour?”
“I didn’t look at the time. I talked to her in the kitchen. It had to be about one. I told her to chill while I went up to my room and got my shoes.”
“Then what happened?” Ty asked.
More tears streaked down David’s face. “I got my shoes. It took longer than I thought because I was sick. I puked a couple times before I came back downstairs. One of the guys said she got mad and left.”
“Did you follow her?”
“I went outside. Looked down the street, but I didn’t see her. God, I was still so sick.” David plowed his fingers back through his hair.
“Did you follow Hailey at that point?”
“No, I threw up, I think. I kind of don’t remember anything after that.” David grabbed his phone. “She’s at a workshop this morning. A nursing thing. She probably texted me earlier. But that’s why you can’t find her. She’s in town at some kind of—”
“No, David.” Ty said. “She isn’t missing. Why don’t you come to the police station with me so we can talk this through?”
Chapter 4
There were seven whole cars in the parking lot of the tiny Longdale precinct when Jordan pulled in next to Ty’s truck. Apparently the quiet little town of Longdale was having a red-letter day of crime.
Bahan had another appointment, so they had wrapped up going through her father’s file for the day. The break had suited her just fine because the only thing she could concentrate on was the fact that there had been a funeral for her family. A funeral she’d known nothing about.
The lies had already begun to stack up.
She’d thought her father was a drug dealer, but it turned out that he’d been working with the Feds. She’d believed the Native American man in her dream had killed her family, yet now she knew an FBI file claimed someone else entirely had been responsible. And she damn well remembered spreading her family’s ashes, so why had a funeral been splashed all over the media?
If there were graves containing her family’s names, she intended to see them before the sun went down.
Not having Ty there this morning had been crappy timing. She wanted his take on all of it. He was a good cop. Underneath the disarming charm and killer smile lay a quick mind and a dogged persistence for truth.
Especially when it came to her.
Before Ty, her past wasn’t something she shared. Not ever. But Tyler McGee had pursued answers from her like a bloodhound on scent. He’d be just as determined to help her get answers now. And she wasn’t gonna lie—there was something about his unrelenting drive she found just as sexy as his gorgeous gray eyes.
She’d made a couple sandwiches and dropped them into a paper bag in case he couldn’t get away. Even if cooking wasn’t exactly her thing, she could do sliced turkey and chips with the best of them. As she climbed out of her car, she reconsidered bothering him. He wouldn’t have been called in from vacation if something big hadn’t come up. But even if he was busy, he’d need to eat.
It was Saturday, so no one was sitting at the reception desk inside the door when she entered. She walked a little farther, poked her head into Ty’s office. He wasn’t there.
Seriously? The place was the size of a porta-potty. Where the hell was everyone? The door to the interrogation room was closed. Maybe he was in there. She walked back to the reception area and leaned against the empty desk to wait for someone to appear.
“Hey, beautiful,” said a deep, sexy voice. It wasn’t Ty’s, but she recognized it all the same. Caleb Jones, one of the cops Ty worked with, was handsome, sweet, and quite the flirt.
She turned around. “Hi, Caleb.”
“Looking for Ty?”
“Well, that was the plan.”
“Damn,” he said. “Why are all the beautiful women here to see him today?”
Let it go,
her brain said.
Just let it go.
Tyler McGee was built like a Viking—tall, heavily muscled. Strong, thick, and solid everywhere. She refused to speculate about how many women in this sleepy little town knew that intimately. Pondering how many damsels in distress walked into his precinct daily looking for him made her brain want to explode. Denial had treated her pretty good over the years, and she saw no reason to screw with the strategy now.
“I thought I might take him to lunch,” she said. “Although I know he caught a case, so he might not have time for me.”
“If you were my girl, I would always make time for you.” Caleb grinned, then looked up and over her shoulder.
Firm fingers tightened around her waist and pulled her back, flush against a hard male body.
Ty.
She’d know his touch with blinders on. And it didn’t hurt that the clean scent of his soap had trained her body to react like one of Pavlov’s dogs.
“You flirt with my lady again and I’ll lock you in the cell,” Ty growled over the top of her head.
Jordan knew he was joking, but she picked up on a good amount of fatigue and impatience in his tone. Caleb must have too, because he slipped away without another word.
She turned in Ty’s arms and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Hi, handsome.”
He glanced around the small waiting area. Apparently satisfied that they were alone, he brought his lips down on top of hers. The urgent stroke of his tongue and the wicked little bite on her bottom lip were not his usual MO for a quick hello kiss. He moved his hands to her head, entwined his fingers in her hair, and for just a moment let the kiss spin out.
The surprising intimacy of his actions shook her composure, and honestly, her common sense, too. Yet she recognized that something had knocked him off balance. Breathless, she pushed back a few inches. “Wow. That was some kiss. Did you have a rough morning?” She smoothed his hair away from his eyes.
“You could say that. We got a college girl beaten and murdered. Left for dead in the middle of a ravine.”
Ty’s jurisdiction wasn’t normally a hotbed for murder.
“That sucks.” Jordan blew out a breath, understanding exactly why he’d been knocked off center. Didn’t it just figure he’d catch a case involving a young murdered girl? “You okay?”
Playfully he tapped her lips with a finger. “I’m better than I was a few minutes ago, thank you very much.”
“I’m serious, Ty. It doesn’t make you weak if you need to pass this one to someone else.” She laid a hand on his chest. “There’s no way you can work this case and not think about Tara.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “Actually, it’s the other way around. There’s no way I can think about Tara and
not
work this case. Do you think any other cop wants to catch this asshole more than me?”
She studied his eyes and knew any further arguing was pointless. That dogged persistence again. It arrowed straight to her heart. “No, I don’t,” she conceded. “And I have no doubt you’ll catch the guy. Just don’t let it drag you under in the process. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah, be ready to leave for my parents when I get home tonight. I’ve got at least twenty college kids coming in to interview, so I’ll probably be running late.”
“We could cancel. I’m sure they’ll understand that you caught a case. I could make dinner, massage your back. It would be a nice, quiet—”
“Nice try. You must be really desperate to get out of this if you’re offering to cook.” He tugged her ponytail. “But my parents are chomping at the bit to meet you, and you’ve succeeded in avoiding them since they got back from Florida. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure we get home in time for that massage.” He winked.
The phone rang on the empty reception desk. “Damn it,” he said.
“I won’t keep you.” He didn’t have time for anything else to be put on his plate right now, so she didn’t mention her father’s case. Instead, she held up the paper bag of sandwiches. “I just wanted to make sure you had something to eat.”
“Hang on one second.” He reached for the ringing phone.
Jordan busied herself by strolling across the room and studying the wall of photos of past and present Longdale officers.
The precinct door opened. In walked a tiny, little redhead with red lips and red nails. Not to mention curves tight enough to warrant a road hazard sign. Jordan eyeballed little Ms. Cherry-bomb and the designer purse she sauntered in with. Was she going to have to witness one of Ty’s
damsels
looking for attention in person?
Jordan checked out her own comfy old hip-huggers with the tear in the knee. She didn’t realize Longdale now had a dress code. Cherry-bomb was dressed to kill—tight black slacks, high-heeled boots, short stylish hair, and a great big swagger that sauntered her way too close to Ty.
Jordan spied a badge clipped to the redhead’s waist.
Great.
Cherry-bomb was a cop. Interestingly enough, not one Ty had ever mentioned working with.
The redheaded land shark proceeded to stroke a hand down Ty’s arm and murmur something Jordan didn’t quite catch.
A streak of white-hot fury flashed like a solar flare through Jordan’s brain. When your whole life revolved around observing and drawing conclusions, you damn well knew the difference between an innocent hand on your man and one that needed to be cut off and shoved sideways up someone’s ass.
Did the woman honestly have no concept of personal space? Who the hell was she, and why the
fuck
was she standing close enough to Ty to count his nose hairs?
Ty glanced between the two females. The silence was deafening except for his abnormally loud attempt at swallowing. No doubt he was choking down the guilty bile that was making his skin take on a sickly green hue.
“Listen, Dale, I’m going to have to call you back.” Ty slammed down the phone.
Cherry-bomb whirled around, and Jordan watched the redhead’s eyes quickly assess her from top to bottom. “Can I help you?” the woman drawled from her big red painted-on lips.
Jordan edged closer, feeling the need to illustrate what an inappropriate amount of personal space felt like. “I. Very. Seriously. Doubt it.” She clenched the paper bag tighter in her hand, trying to decide which one of them she’d like to knock upside the head first.
“Oh, thank God. Lunch,” Cherry-bomb said, ripping the bag out of Jordan’s hand.
Ty fumbled like a big drunk ape to step between them. “Isobel, would you go wait in my office?”
“Whatever you say, slick.” Cherry-bomb winked at Jordan and playfully poked Ty’s chest. “This guy will pay you. He owes me a lot more than a sandwich, but I’m going to let him off the hook easy. This time, anyway.”
Jordan watched the redhead stroll away with the sandwiches.
Her
damn sandwiches.
Finally, she looked over at Ty, really,
really
wanting to rip him a new asshole. But quite honestly, the whole encounter had left her speechless. She didn’t know if she was feeling hurt, insult, or jealousy. What she did know was that some suckish emotion was burning through her system at the speed of light.
Ty reached for her hand. “Come here.”
She stepped back. Seriously? Was he going to attempt to touch her after that little performance?
Not a chance in hell, cowboy
. In fact, the best idea would be to get the hell out of Dodge before her itchy trigger finger went rogue, reached for her Glock, and shot his manhood clean off his guilt-stricken body. “I just swung by to make sure you had lunch. But apparently there’s a charming little redhead working here that’ll be more than happy to take care of you.”
“She’s not working here, she’s a detective from the Violent Crimes Support Unit of the Missouri Highway Patrol. It wasn’t my choice to call her, but we usually need MHP to do all our lab work since we don’t have the facilities.”
“Meaning she’ll be working with you the whole time you’re working this case? How nice for you.”
He folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his gaze as if she were being ridiculous. “Why do I get the feeling you’re angry?”
“Gee, I don’t know, Ty.” She mirrored his stance, folded her arms, and glared back at him. “Why do I get the feeling you and Cherry-bomb have worked together before?”
“Her name is Isobel Riley.” Ty ran his hands through his hair. “And so what? I
have
worked with her before. You’ve worked with hundreds of different guys. You don’t see me making a big deal out of it, because I know you’re a professional. Maybe you could treat me with the same respect.”
Jordan moved closer now. Not intimately close. Be
very afraid
close. “You wanna play this game with me, cowboy?” she whispered. “You want to pretend that what I just saw between you two was nothing but professional?”
Ty said nothing.
“I don’t wear pants tight enough to cut off my air supply while I’m working. I don’t wear enough make-up to walk the corner of Washington Street while I’m standing over a crime scene. And I sure as hell don’t go around batting my big fake eyelashes and touching the guys I work with. And if I ever do, you should probably make a big deal out of it.”
Again he ran his fingers through his hair. Only this time like he wanted to pull most of it out. “Oh, you got it all figured out in the one point five seconds you saw her walk through the room? I had no idea your psychic abilities were anywhere near that sharp.”
Jordan stalked to the door, then whipped back around. “I haven’t even turned on my psychic radar yet. And trust me, you are
so
not going to like it when I do.”
***
“That went well,” Ty murmured to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed—
really fucking hard
—that the earth would open up and swallow him whole.
He wanted to be pissed. He wanted to be insulted that Jordan would even suggest that he’d do something sleazy. But the truth of it was that he
had
done something sleazy. Not since he’d been in a relationship with her, of course. But if she pressed for more facts, he wasn’t sure how far that sticking point was going to get him.
It was just like a scene from a
National Geographic
special
.
He was the dumbass, half-wit gazelle about a half a second before it realized it was frolicking through a pack of lions. Instead, he should have been on vacation right now, making love to the long-legged lion with the big breasts and bad temper.