He’d called her last night, but the number had been given to someone else. Some young punk who’d told him to fuck off, that the woman he’d been looking for didn’t live with him and to not call again. He dug deeper.
In the files he had on his computer was the phone number to her next of kin, her grandmother. Unfortunately, that proved to be another dead end. The phone had been disconnected. He dug even deeper.
After hours of searching, he’d discovered the grandmother, Anna Gates, had been a patient of one of his former colleagues, Doug Broen. He’d done his residency with Broen, and had more shit on him than the man knew. Broen wasn’t a lush like him, but had issues with prescription drugs. He’d witnessed his drug abuse, and hadn’t been afraid to threaten him to obtain the information he’d needed. Information that would hopefully lead to his final atonement.
He’d called Doug at home, late last night, and had been waiting for him to call back since early this morning. With a glare at his cell phone again, he slumped on the couch. Broen was pulling utter bullshit on him. He knew how doctor’s offices worked, hell, he’d had his own practice for nearly fifteen years. All Doug had to do was look into her files and give him Gates’ new address and phone number. If that prick...
The phone rang. His heart jumped.
Not recognizing the number, he answered, “Trumane.”
“Alex, it’s Doug.”
His heart rate kicked up a notch, along with hope. “What did you find?”
“You do realize this goes against policy, right?”
Broen’s fear made sense, along with why he’d used a different phone to call him. Doug wanted nothing traced back to him. “So does taking prescription drugs illegally,” he shot back.
“God, I hate former abusers who think that now that they’re clean, they’re holier than thou.”
“Cut the shit, what do you have for me?”
“She’s dead,” Doug said with a heavy sigh.
He gripped the phone, wishing, not for the first time today, for a cold beer or a shot of whisky. “When?”
“Five years ago.”
He’d given Miranda Gates her diagnosis around the same time. Anxiety had him clutching the phone tighter. “Cause of death?”
“Hell, Alex, she was eighty-eight. She’d been found dead, in her bed. You know the drill, at that age, no autopsy was done, and cause of death was listed as natural.”
“Natural,” he echoed. How convenient. “Sorry for bothering you, but thanks for your time.” He hung up the phone, then rebooted his laptop. He found the number he was looking for and placed the call.
“Hi,” he began, then decided to thicken his southern accent and pour on the charm. “I’d like to order a copy of a will. Do you think you can help me? I sure would appreciate it.”
The woman on the other end assured him she could, but only in a hard copy. Mississippi didn’t offer archived wills to be viewed online. Although disappointed, because he wanted the information now, he gave his credit card information to pay for the copy. Afterward, she’d promised him that the Last Will and Testament of Anna Lynn Gates would be in his mailbox within the next two days.
Two days. He’d have to sit and bide his time. Wait.
God, he wanted a drink.
Celeste shouldn’t have opened the door knowing John was on the other side. Last night’s argument had given her the perfect way to sever whatever it was between them and keep her heart intact. But she couldn’t help herself. Devastatingly gorgeous, with thick black hair, dark eyes and broad shoulders a woman could hang on to, physically, he was everything she craved. Yet that craving ran deeper. She couldn’t deny the connection they shared, the unexplainable need and deep emotional attraction. Or the way he’d already wormed his way into her heart.
“Ever hear of calling first?” she asked, going for ticked off nonchalant even as her pulse raced. “I know you own a cell phone. If I recall, you used it last night.”
“Do you think we could leave the sarcasm at the door and talk inside? Please. It’s important. To me, to us.”
She raised her gaze to his, caught the regret and longing in his eyes and caved. “Sure, but I don’t have much time though. I have paperwork to do and—”
“Why aren’t you at work?” he asked, an edge to his tone.
“Will’s there, and besides, as of today, I have a new assistant manager.” Something she should have done several years ago rather than completely burden herself with the business. Maybe now she’d finally find the time to have a life outside of the diner.
“Karen? I met her when I stopped by the diner looking for you.”
“Yeah, she’s great. She’s been working at The Sugar Shack for years, and knows everything about it. I should have given her the promotion a long time ago.”
“But you didn’t want to lose control.” He moved into the foyer, glancing between the living room and dining room. “You’re alone?”
“Duh,” she muttered with exasperation, and took a seat on the couch.
“I thought you were leaving the sarcasm at the door.”
“I’m not being sarcastic, I’m pissed. Would you like me to show you another example to help clarify the difference?”
He raised his hands and dropped to the other end of the couch. “Please, don’t indulge me.” With a weary sigh, and an even wearier frown crossing his face, he pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket, then set it on the coffee table.
She eyed the phone. “What are you doing? And why shouldn’t I be alone?”
“Your last trance will give you the answers. You did want to hear it, right?”
Panic rose to the surface and had her scooting her legs beneath her. “I did, I mean, I do. Why the turnaround?”
He reached for her hand. “Last night, I didn’t mean to come off all hard-assed. I’m sorry for that. But I was only trying protect you, not control you.”
Rolling her eyes, she released a heavy sigh. “There’s a novelty,” she said, then cringed. “Sorry, no more sarcasm.”
His eyes darkened with anguish and regret. “No, actually, I think sarcasm fits. When was the last time you did something just for you?”
She looked down at the new acrylic nails, applied this morning and painted cherry red. The manicure had been done on a whim, but she knew he wasn’t talking about trivial vanity. He was talking about every aspect of her life.
Apparently Roy had filled John in on the other details she hadn’t divulged. Although she’d prefer him to have kept his big mouth shut, she understood. Roy wanted nothing but the best for her. If he’d shared personal information about her to John, he’d done it to protect her.
Just like John had last night.
“I know where you’re going with this.”
His brows rose as he edged closer. “You do? Is this some sort of psychic thing?”
“No,” she half-laughed. “I meant that I understand you were looking out for me, not trying to control me.”
“Good.”
“But I’d still like to hear the recording.”
A flash of disappointment crossed his face. “Fine, before you do though, that lead you gave us on the hairdresser paid off big time. Great job.”
“Really?” She hadn’t expected that. After he’d left last night, she’d practically run to her basement where she’d put her anger, frustration, and hurt into some serious baking.
While she’d placed the croissants that were needed for this morning’s breakfast rush at the diner into the double oven, she’d had a Nancy Drew moment. She’d been unable to shake the lead on the hairdresser out of her head. She’d also been determined to show John she deserved to remain a part of the investigation, so she’d called the hair salon she used and made an appointment.
At the time, the idea had seemed brilliant, but this morning as she’d stood in Eau Claire’s only posh salon, she’d thought it plain stupid. How many hairstylists by the name of Judy worked in Wisconsin? Yet her stylist, Tish, knew her, and had not only given her a well needed trim, but a lead. She’d also been the one to talk her into the manicure.
“Yeah, thanks to you, we were able to ID the girl from the bog. Her parents had been out of town, which was why there hadn’t been a missing persons report on her.” He sighed, and she caught the sadness in his eyes before he spoke again. “They saw her body earlier this afternoon and confirmed that she’s their daughter.”
“What was her name?”
“Courtney.”
“Courtney,” she echoed, and with her stomach churning, she hugged a throw pillow to her chest and nodded to the cell phone. “Let me hear.”
“You’re sure? You don’t have to. I could just tell you what you’d said.”
“Like you did with the trance I had in your car
about
Courtney?”
“Welcome back Miss Sarcasm.”
“Sorry,” she said with a sheepish shrug. “Were you able to gain any leads off this last trance?”
With a gusty sigh, he nodded. “Yes.”
“Good, tell me about them afterward. Could you please play it for me now?” she asked before losing her nerve. She’d never had a trance until two days ago. Her mother never mentioned having them, either. While she needed to know what she’d said, what she’d physically gone through, a part of her would rather bury her head in the sand. She feared the trance might be way worse than any vision she’d ever endured.
“Fine.” He hit a button on his cell.
The living room filled with her recorded voice, rambling on about how she’d saved Lloyd. She smiled at the memory, and the man he’d become, then again as John’s soothing and affectionate voice mingled with hers. She looked at him then, and realized this was only the calm before the storm.
His eyes had grown wild with anger and fear. She’d seen the same look last night, but it hadn’t registered. Dread gripped her, especially when the recording went dead silent.
She waited, her heart pounding with anticipation. Then a low whisper drifted from the cell phone. She barely recognized her own voice, the sheer terror it held as it ebbed, then faded. Cold fear wrapped around her, sending chills through her body.
Suddenly a shocking, horrifying scream sliced through the room. She jumped, then cowered into the sofa cushions. The cold fear that had cocooned her with icy fingers became a frightening maelstrom of panic and dread.
She rocked back and forth as her living room filled with her voice, so desperate and scared. Gripping the pillow tighter while tears streamed down her cheeks, she wished the stupid cell phone would somehow malfunction. All she’d have to do was tell John to put an end to it and she knew he would. She couldn’t bring herself tell him, though. Somehow the second victim from her visions had channeled herself though her body last night, and as much as she didn’t want to hear anymore, she forced herself to listen. The woman deserved to be heard. She deserved justice.
Silently crying, her stomach knotting, then twisting with horror and anxiety, she sat through it all. The brutal sodomy and the eventual death of the woman who had been beaten by her mother, been called fat and useless, then murdered by two sick bastards without a care.
As her tinny voice faded, she honed in on the alarm that edged John’s voice as he’d tried to rouse her from the trance. Regret, sharp and painful, sliced her to the core. She’d been selfish and childish, and now wished to God she hadn’t forced him to relive the trance once again.
Wiping her eyes, she met his gaze. “I think I’ve heard enough...wait,” she said, as the almighty decree he’d laid on her after the trance filtered from the cell phone. As she listened, she couldn’t stop the guilt resonating through her mind. She’d remembered that moment, when she’d first woken, disoriented and discombobulated. He’d only wanted to protect her from herself and she’d lashed out at him.
The recording ended. Deafening silence followed.
Yet her head swirled with her voice and his. The rape and murder of the unknown woman mingled with his compassion and his panic. At that moment, the cold fear which had been clutching her tightly diminished, warmth spread throughout her body and straight into her heart and soul. She’d abruptly stumbled into the impossible. A man worth risking her heart, despite the consequences.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes trained on her, his fists clenched as if he was holding back from touching her.
She needed his touch right now, his comfort and strength. “The leads from this,” she said, waving a hand at the cell phone. “God, John, there’s so many.”
He pocketed the phone. “I know.”
“Winston had to be the man with the beard. If he’s in jail that means...” She tossed the pillow to the floor and ran a shaky hand across her forehead. Fear greater than she’d ever experienced rippled through her. “That means the other killer could be anywhere. Even here, in Wissota Falls.”
Now she understood why he didn’t think she should be alone. Why he’d been angry, afraid and determined to protect her. If the killer knew she was involved with the investigation, she could become one of his victims. She shuddered, swiping the tears from her face. “I’m so sorry, John. I didn’t know.”
In an instant he was beside her, cradling her in his arms. “I know, baby. I’m sorry you had to listen to it.”
“My fault. I’m the one who insisted. You tried to stop me, tried to protect me.”
He drew back, then cupped her face with his large, warm palms. “I promise you’ll be protected. Even if it means I have to sleep on your couch every night until we catch him. I swear. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The vehemence and determination in his voice, along with the prospect of having him at her house every night, made her heart clench. Only...while he’d said he cared about her, she’d rather have him staying the night because he wanted to, not as a watchdog. “Thank you. But you don’t have to do that. I could have Will or Lloyd—”
“No.” He dropped his hands to her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I mean, that’s fine if I have to be away for some reason, but I’d rather...” He sighed and rested his forehead against hers.
Slipping one hand into his hair, she asked, “Stay with me?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath fanning across her lips as he nudged his nose against hers. “How do you feel about that?” He brushed his mouth against the corner of hers. “How do you feel about complicated?”
She raised her head and stared into his eyes. The need and passion in their dark depths nearly took her breath away. Yet her stomach tightened with a combination of hopefulness and despair. Complicated could break her heart. But she’d endure the hurt, the pain of losing him once he left Wissota Falls. He’d come to mean so much to her in such a short time. She’d rather give herself to him, take what he offered now, however much he was capable of, and worry about the consequences later. She’d been so lonely, and cared for him too deeply.
She slipped her hand to his cheek. “Complicated? I think I can handle that.”
He sifted his hands through her hair and held her head, her lips inches from his. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she whispered, then with their eyes locked she leaned into him.
His firm lips crushed against hers. She met his searing kiss, savored his taste, his hot caress as he moved his hand down her back forcing her chest against his. As he deepened the kiss, thrusting and twining his tongue against hers, she knew what was about to happen went way beyond complicated. The complexity of their relationship, their situation could be dealt with later, though. Right now, she wanted to feel. His passion, his lust, his hands and mouth on every inch of her body.
The clouds shifted, and afternoon sunlight spilled into the living room through the large bay windows. With reluctance, she drew away from his burning kiss afraid her nosy neighbor might pass down the sidewalk and catch her and John on the couch having sex. She hadn’t been with a man in years, and there was no way in hell she’d allow the wicked witch next door, or the afternoon paperboy, or anyone else to interfere with her pleasure.
She caught his frown and smiled. “I like a little kink, but I’m not an exhibitionist,” she said, and nodded to the windows.
Grinning, he took her hand, and he helped her from the couch. “I’m intrigued. Define a little kink for me.”
Rising to her tiptoes, she leaned in then gave his lower lip a playful tug with her teeth. “Would you really rather stand here and talk the afternoon away?”
His eyes grew impossibly darker and swirled with heat. “No way,” he said against her lips before he kissed her. His tongue, teeth and lips seduced hers as they made their way from the living room. When they reached the foyer, anxious to have his hands on her, she jerked her t-shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor.