Authors: Tamara Larson
“So, ask Jamie. I’m sure that little minx could give you some tips on how to wow him in the boudoir.” Clay gyrated his hips enthusiastically to add emphasis to his point.
“Just because she’s an exotic dancer, does not mean she’s promiscuous, Clay.” Jessie said angrily, holding up her finger in warning. “As a matter of fact, Jamie is very particular about the guys she ‘wows in the boudoir,’ as you say.”
“Don’t get your back up,” Clay said, abruptly stopping his hip thrusts, he held up both hands in supplication. “I’m sure Jamie is very particular. I never said she was a tart. All I meant was that, given her job, she probably knows what straight guys like. You should call her. Ask her for a femme fatale tutorial.”
“Clay, I’m not doing anything of the kind. It’s not going to happen. Forget about the detective. Please.” Jessie gave Clay a look that brooked no arguments, and walked toward the cashier’s desk. “God. I wish Jamie had never let you in on my little secret,” Jessie said over her shoulder.
“Being your age and still a virgin is nothing to be ashamed of, Jess. A hundred years ago, it would have been a prerequisite,” Clay said, following her, he jumped up and sat on the cashier’s desk beside her. He swung his legs in time with the Ella Fitzgerald music playing softly in the background.
“Well, today it practically makes me a featured story on
Ripley’s Believe it or not
.” Jessie whispered, as the two Chinese ladies approached with an armful of paperbacks. Clay served them cheerfully from his perch on the desk and then turned back to Jessie. The women smiled and walked out of the store.
“Okay, so we’ve established that your condition needs to be rectified. Let’s do something about it. Let’s set up a deflowering with the very desirable detective.” Clay wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Jessie.
“Jeez, Clay.” Jessie rolled her eyes at him. “That sounds really romantic. Just like every girl dreams of. Can we just forget about this? Don’t you have some invoices to go through?”
“Okay, okay, but do me a favor and think about it. I hate seeing you so lonely,” Clay said, grabbing a handful of papers off the blotter.
“I’m not lonely, Clay,” Jessie said, wearily. “Just because I don’t spend six nights a week cruising the bar scene, doesn’t mean I’m lonely. I’m just quiet.”
“Hey, at least I put myself out there,” Clay said, shaking his papers at her. “But fine. You’re not lonely. But you do have that weird, paralyzing shyness thing around men. I’m sure all you need is to get to know one, and you’ll realize that there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’ll take the mystery out of them and you’ll be able to converse with all kinds of hot, available men without turning into some kind of shock victim.”
“Honestly, Clay. I think you’re oversimplifying things, just a tad. You’ve been watching too much Dr. Phil again, haven’t you? You honestly think that one night with the detective will be enough to change my entire personality?”
“I’ve gotta tell you, dearling. You don’t seem like a shrinking violet to me, and I’m sure Jamie would agree with me. Maybe this shyness thing isn’t really you. Maybe you just need someone to bring you out of your shell.”
“And you think the detective can do that?” Jessie asked, digging though her pockets to retrieve
Duncan
’s card. “Poof!” She said, circling it in the air like a magic wand. “I’m no longer a social misfit.”
“I don’t know if it will work, Jess. But what do you have to lose, besides your virginity?”
Chapter
4
Duncan
sat behind the steering wheel of the unmarked, dark blue sedan and ran his hands through his hair again. He’d been doing this since leaving Forgotten Treasures five minutes ago. As a result, his dark hair stuck out wildly on both sides of his head like wings. He was too preoccupied to notice. He was confused, aroused, and most of all, angry with himself.
He’d been a cop for ten years now, and had never, ever molested an interviewee before. He’d never even been tempted. Obviously, I’ve been living the life of the celibate cop too long,
Duncan
thought as he turned the key in the ignition with more force than necessary. The unmarked police car roared to life. He gunned the motor and shook his head, pulling out into traffic without checking his blind spot. An approaching cab honked at him and
Duncan
flipped the driver the bird. The rain was so thick it was unlikely the driver saw the gesture, but it gave
Duncan
a small feeling of satisfaction anyway.
Maybe that blond guy is her boyfriend, he thought, turning the car toward home. That’s probably why she reacted so strongly when he came in. She couldn’t possibly be as innocent as she seemed. She was just scared her lover might go into a rage if he caught her being seduced by another man.
He remembered the tentative way she’d touched him and groaned under his breath. There was no way she had a boyfriend, he thought, shaking his head to clear his thoughts of her. He couldn’t let himself be distracted by a woman, especially one who kissed like and angel, and provoked such an intense reaction in him that he had trouble concentrating on anything else. Theresa was still out there somewhere and he needed to focus on finding her.
Two weeks ago, he’d received an unexpected phone call. He’d been at work, and had answered his desk phone with his usual brisk, “Reinhold.” The voice on the other end was old, and somewhat brittle, but still forceful.
“
Duncan
,” his grandmother said imperiously. “Is that how one answers the phone? You should know better.”
He recognized her voice immediately, and thought about hanging up or pretending not to speak English. They hadn’t spoken in ten years, and he saw no reason to change that now. From her censorious tone, she hadn’t changed at all. His curiosity got the best of him, however, and he said, “Grandmother. What a surprise. I didn’t realize Hell had frozen over. I should really pay more attention to the news, don’t you think?”
“
Duncan
. No need to be flippant. I wouldn’t be calling you unless I had to. The truth is that I need you.” Evelyn Reinhold’s voice faded at the end, like she resented needing anyone. Especially him.
Duncan
didn’t respond. He was in shock that she would admit to such a weakness. He just stared at the blank computer screen in front of him and took a sip from his cold coffee, waiting for her to continue. She finally spoke in a rush. “Your sister is missing and none of the private detectives I’ve hired have been able to find out anything. The whole useless bunch of them just took my money and couldn’t find a single clue. All we know is that she boarded a bus to
Calgary
two months ago and that she was begging on the streets there for a while. She could be anywhere now.
Duncan
. Can you look for her? I just can’t lose both of you…” Her voice broke completely.
Duncan
couldn’t remember that ever happening before. His grandmother was a force of nature, and yet, right now, she just sounded like an old lady.
“Can you send me a recent picture?” He asked, unable to ignore the pain in his grandmother’s voice. Theresa was actually his half-sister—the product of his mother’s liaison with an oil tycoon when
Duncan
was fourteen. He’d been too busy becoming interested in girls to bother with his half-sibling, so he’d never actually gotten to know Theresa. She’d come to live with his grandmother after he’d left his family far behind. The last time he’d seen his sister she’d been a precocious five-year-old with fluffy, blond braids and freckles on her nose. It was difficult to conceive of her being old enough to get on board a bus in
Toronto
by herself, let alone imagine her living on the streets.
“You should check your mail more often,
Duncan
. I sent you copies of all the information I have last week.”
“What?”
Duncan
asked, nearly choking on his mouthful of coffee. “You have my home address? How did you get your claws on that? I’m totally unlisted. One of the benefits of working in the sex crimes division.”
“Yes, one of the many benefits, I’m sure,” Evelyn said sarcastically. “Kevin gave me your information. He’s a very sensible young man, and knew you’d understand, under the circumstances.”
Kevin Hall was
Duncan
’s oldest friend. They’d known each other since kindergarten. Many of
Duncan
’s best childhood memories were of afternoons spent playing Bionic Man and Dukes of Hazzard with Kevin and his five younger brothers. Kevin’s hectic household was an escape from his own tense home environment with his grandmother. The occasional visits from his mother, when she wasn’t in rehab or traveling, were few and far between, and just seemed to aggravate the situation when they did occur. As a result,
Duncan
spent as much time at Kevin’s as he could without actually moving in.
Their friendship hadn’t faded as they grew older, as so many childhood relationships do. In high school, the two young men had shared a good-natured rivalry on the basketball court and football field, but the competition hadn’t altered their affection for one another. Kevin and Duncan also shared a passion for detective novels, comic books, shapely blond cheerleaders, and, most of all, hockey. They’d planned on becoming police officers together after university.
Unlike
Duncan
, Kevin left the force after a year to pursue his first love: writing. He was a soft touch where family was concerned.
Duncan
guessed this was a throwback from Kevin having a well-adjusted and loving family of his own while growing up. Kevin could never quite comprehend how
Duncan
could live on the other side of the country without having any contact with his family, despite the bad blood between Duncan and his grandmother.
Duncan
understood why Kevin had revealed his whereabouts, but promised himself to beat the crap out of his friend, just on general principle, for giving into Evelyn so easily. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help find his half sister. He did. He just didn’t know how much he could contribute to the search. If he knew his grandmother at all, she’d hired the very best detectives her fortune could buy. She’d probably used all of her impressive political influence as well. Besides, this wasn’t his area. The department he worked in specialized in hunting men—rapists and pedophiles specifically—not runaways.
Duncan
didn’t have much contact with the homeless, but he knew street kids were a migrating lot and many of them ended up in
Vancouver
when the weather in other parts of the country turned bad. If Theresa had been spotted panhandling in
Calgary
in June, it was quite likely that she’d eventually make the trip west. If she did come here, he could track her down and get her back to their grandmother where she belonged.
Jessica Martin was
Duncan
’s first real lead on the case. For the past two weeks, he’d been investigating leads on Theresa’s whereabouts during his every free moment.
Today was actually his day off and he’d spent it showing various local shop owners her picture.
When Jessie actually confirmed that his half sister was in the area, he’d been excited, but it was muted. Nothing like when he had a breakthrough on one of his serious cases. He lived for that rush. There was nothing more satisfying than putting a predator in jail. It made him feel alive in a way that nothing else ever had. He felt useful, and needed, something he’d never felt anywhere else in his entire life.
Duncan
had mixed feelings about finding Theresa. He wanted her safe, of course, but he knew finding Theresa also meant sending her back to grandmother. He didn’t feel quite right about that. The old lady wasn’t a monster, but she was cold and domineering. He’d left his home right after high school to get out from under her control, so he understood why Theresa had felt running away was her only option. The difference being that
Duncan
was 19, not 17 when he left, and he’d also had a wife and a job.
Life on the street was tough, terrible really, but at least she had her independence now,
Duncan
thought, driving the sedan into the underground parking lot of his apartment building on
Georgia Street
. He got out, and ran an appreciative hand over his Black BMW in the parking space next to the sedan. He had a weakness for fine automobiles, but used the sedan when he was out on business.
Duncan
entered the elevator and hit the button for the fortieth floor. The doors opened on the first floor to reveal the building superintendent, Ted, who stepped on with an armful of light bulbs.
Duncan
nodded at Ted, who resembled Danny Devito, but didn’t say anything. Encouraging the nosy superintendent was a mistake. He always seemed to know exactly what was going on with everyone in the building, and
Duncan
didn’t want to be fodder for the gossip mill more than he was already. It didn’t help that Kevin was usually his only visitor. And his dog,
Hannibal
, a standard poodle that had belonged to his wife certainly hadn’t contributed to his butch image. A young, attractive, single man living alone in the west end of
Vancouver
who never entertained ladies was bound to be speculated about.