Alex hums, his fingers tightening around mine. “Feisty.” He winks. “I like it.”
I giggle, a little bit of lightness seeping through the heaviness of the day, and I can’t help the grin that breaks across my face as we make our way inside.
But that lightness disappears as we walk through the front door and see Lincoln and his mother standing off to the side with a pretty blonde officer, and an older, overweight gentleman wearing a button-down black shirt, consoling the crying woman I saw minutes before.
“Who’s that?” I point to the man I’ve never seen.
“No clue,” Alex responds.
“Thank you for being here, Preacher Cartwright,” Mrs. Porter’s trembling voice carries across the room, placing her hand on the forearm of the mystery man.
Lincoln’s focus snaps to us, his gaze burning through me like a wildfire uncontained. My stomach somersaults at the sight of him, every single sore spot on my body flaring to life, begging to be reminded of his touch.
His eyes move from my face down to where Alex has my hand in his grasp, and his jaw sets as he glances back up at me and then turns back around to face his mom.
I swallow around the sudden knot in my throat.
“What the hell is his problem?” Alex asks.
Forcing a grin, I withdraw my hand from Alex’s. “Some people are just jerks, my dude. No rhyme or reason.”
There’s a magnetic force that exists in the space between Lincoln and me. It’s always been there, but now it’s stronger, twisted and tangled until it yanks so tight it takes everything in me to resist the pull. But if he wants to ignore me then I owe it to him to do the same, so I resist, and move past him to head back to Stoll’s office.
Alex raps on the door three times before turning the knob, and I follow behind, trying to forget about Lincoln long enough to do my job.
I’m not sure what I expected to find in the Captain’s room but having Officer Klepsky and him staring down at the photo evidence of the case wasn’t it.
“Now, I know you guys aren’t going over the evidence of our killer without us,” Alex tsks as we walk over to the round conference table in the corner of the room. “So rude.”
Stoll glances up from where he’s leaning over the photos, but it’s Klepsky who speaks. “What did you guys expect? For us to sit here and twiddle our thumbs while you play house with the prime suspect?”
I tilt my head, something sharp pulling at my insides. “Lincoln was cleared weeks ago.”
Alex chuckles as he pulls out a chair and plops down, shaking his head. “You’re a troublemaker, aren’t you, Klepsky? Always trying to prove your dick is bigger than everyone else’s. My badge is bigger than your badge, officer,” he singsongs.
I stifle back a laugh as I sit down next to him, my eyes scouring over the evidence on the table. “So,” I say. “What do we know?”
My eyes bounce from Stoll to Klepsky and back, waiting for one of them to speak. I already know everything, of course. It’s my job to know, but there’s something about this entire situation that has me on edge. It’s strange how hard the cops in this town fight against solving murders.
“Where’s Gabe?” I ask when neither of them speak.
Klepsky’s brow arches. “On a first name basis now, Detective?”
I smile. “Only with the ones who do more than push papers for a living.”
His nostrils flare.
“Officer Wilson is at the crime scene still,” Stoll says.
“Is he?” My head tilts. “I just came from there and didn’t see him.”
“No,” Stoll says slowly, his gaze narrowing. “He was here then.”
Sighing, I file away the information to the back of my brain and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay… where are we at with the warrant to search the lighthouse?”
Silence.
I look around. “Are you guys trying to make things difficult?”
Klepsky scoffs. “We’re trying to do our jobs the same as you.”
“So let me then!” I reply, my hands flying up in the air. “There is absolutely no reason why you guys shouldn’t have had us out to Paul Jensen’s house by now.” My back slams against my chair as I cross my arms. “We’ve been more than patient.”
Stoll sighs, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Jensen is complicated.”
“So we hear,” Alex mutters.
“He doesn’t do well with people,” Stoll continues. “If we badger him… well… it’s just better when he’s left alone.”
Disbelief coats my insides. “Even if he’s murdering innocent women?”
Stoll cringes and Klepsky scoffs. “He doesn’t like to be around people, and all of us like it that way too.”
“That’s rude,” I snap.
“It’s the truth,” he fires back. “There’s no way he’s out there killing people when he’s too afraid of the ghosts of his family to even leave his house.”
“What?” I ask. “Look, you guys give me nothing to go on here. Get me a damn warrant, or I’ll go above your heads and get it myself.”
“We’ve already got the warrant,” Stoll snaps. “Klepsky already checked everything out.”
A disbelieving laugh bubbles from my throat, and I throw my head back, trying to find some type of silver lining here. “Well,” I say slowly, my gaze narrowing as my blood heats with anger. “That would have been extremely nice to know. And since we weren’t even told about it, I think we’ll head out there again. And I want to go out on the water. So let’s make that happen too.” I tilt my head. “You know how quickly word gets around. No need for the town to think you’re stalling an investigation while their friends and family are being slaughtered.”
Alex whistles. “Better listen to her, Cap. There’s no stopping her when she gets like this.”
Stoll sighs, rubbing a hand over his neck. “Fine. We’ll get you the warrant, and put you in a patrol boat on the water.”
I shake my head. “That won’t work. Who would be stupid enough to commit a murder in front of police? We need something that blends in.”
Alex leans forward, the front legs of his chair snapping back on the ground, his elbows resting on the table. “How about a lobstering boat?”
Chapter 19
Third body turned up in the water today...
...periorbital bruising and sharp force trauma to the abdominal area...
...waiting on postmortem CT scan...
A sob works its way through my mother, tainting the atmosphere of the otherwise quiet precinct. She curls into herself, pushing her face against my chest, her tears soaking through my flannel and the white T-shirt beneath.
I grip her shoulder in one hand and shoot Preacher Cartwright a dirty look. He catches my eye from where he’s standing off to the side with Officer Kate Young, whom I haven’t seen since the day Gabe and I found the first body.
And now there’s a third.
“My condolences, Leticia,” Cartwright says, attempting to undo the damage he’s already inflicted as he walks toward us. Scrubbing a hand over his silver head of hair, he moves as if to pat her on the back, but thinks better of it when he notes my glare.
Sniffling, my mother retreats, wiping her nose on the forest-green material of my shirt. “Thank you. Gracie was like a sister to me, you know. I just don’t know what’s going on in this town anymore. I’m starting to wonder if Steven and I should’ve left when the kids graduated from high school.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes, taking a step back. Her and my pops always talked about getting off the island—or rather, she talked and he pretended to listen. But the family business was more important.
A failing business, but one he was proud of nonetheless.
Something pinches in my chest at the thought, knowing he’d hate the way I’m running it now.
“Now, if you’d left, who would’ve kept Gracie company when Ed went through chemo a couple years back? Or when that storm hit, and she needed a place to stay?” The preach
er reaches out, clamping a bony hand down over her shoulder. “This town needs you, Letty. Whatever else happens, don’t ever forget that. We can’t stop the bad things from happening, but dang if your presence doesn’t make a fine cushion.”
My mother nods, pushing a strand of dark hair from her face as Gracie Franklin’s daughter stalks into the precinct, tears streaming down her puffy face.
Cartwright casts a look at the young woman as she starts over to us, escorted by her husband, and blows out a breath.
He meets my gaze once more before turning to the grieving woman, stepping close and laying a hand on her shoulder.
Gracie’s son-in-law excuses himself to the restroom, and then I’m stuck watching Cartwright manipulate the situation into a sermon.
Kate walks over, tugging on the end of her platinum ponytail, and nudges me with her shoulder.
“So, I hear you’re finally a free man,” she says, her tone too upbeat for the mournful air.
I keep my eyes trained on my mother. “Have been for weeks. Told you guys it wasn’t me in the first place.”
“Well, come on, Linc.” My stomach churns at the nickname rolling off her tongue so easily, like we know each other intimately. “You’re so bored when it comes to these situations, what were we supposed to think?”
I don’t bother mentioning that it’s not boredom, but training that keeps me separate from the bodies. That once you’ve seen death in action, the aftermath doesn’t exactly bother you the way it once did.
The front doors to the precinct swing open again, and Kate’s voice gets drowned out by the hum in my veins as Sloane walks in, her pretty face flushed with joy.
For a second, my chest swells, the notion that maybe her mood is a symptom of our night together flashing across my mind. Even though I didn’t go back down to the lower level of the boat and join her in bed, part of me had been hoping she’d be satisfied with what she got.
It’s certainly more than I’ve given anyone else.
I can practically sense the second she feels my eyes on her, and the memory of how she tastes floods my senses, making my cock twitch.
Stupidly, I’m almost happy to see her.
Then my gaze drops, zeroing in on Alex’s fingers interlocked with hers, and it feels like the weight of the universe shifts on its axis. And instead of dispersing evenly, that weight plops down right in the center of my chest, crushing bone and muscle without any forethought as to what’s beneath.
Envy scorches up my spine, and I clench my jaw, my eyes flicking to hers.
There’s panic in those icy depths; it flares for a breath, but then I’m ripping myself away and turning back to my mother, a silent curse on the tip of my tongue.
I’m an idiot.
I knew something was going on there. Could tell in the way he’s always a little too close, a little too friendly.
Though I suppose I can’t blame her.
He knows her, and I don’t want to. Why wouldn’t she choose him?
Their presence is an angry phantom in the room, drawing the attention of the local cops as they pause to watch the strangers cross the bullpen to Captain Stoll’s office. I don’t move to look too, even though my body craves the sight of the brunette detective.
My mother finally wrenches herself away from Gracie’s daughter, sending the girl off with Kate and Cartwright to get a warm cup of coffee, and then she spins around, pinning me with a look.
“What’s going on with you?” she demands, placing a hand on her hip. Mascara smudges her eyelids, but she makes no move to wipe it off.
I exhale slowly. “What are you talking about, Ma?”
“Your aura. It’s all wrong, all of a sudden.”
“My aura?” Blinking, I drag a hand down over my face, trying not to let my irritation show. “Ma, all due respect, but what the fuck is that?”
“When we came into the station, you were fine. Happy—well, as happy as you let yourself be.” She huffs, shaking her head, and wrings her hands together, her gold wedding band glinting in the fluorescent lighting. “Now, you’re all... blah.”
I just stare at her.
Her face twists, and she swings her arm back, whacking me in the side with her big black purse. “Don’t look at me like that, Lincoln Dean Porter. I know what I’m talking about—your sister’s been teaching me.”
“Oh, well, that explains it. Daisy’s a fucking sleep-deprived nutjob.”
“Be that as it may, my concerns still stand.”
“I’m fine, Ma. Honest.”
Hiking her purse up onto her shoulder, she lets out a long sigh, moving to my side and leaning against me. She sniffles, rubbing at her nose, then gives me a short nod.
“Well, I’m not. I think I need a warm bath. Take me home?”
Looping my arm through hers, I start us toward the front exit, more than ready to get the hell out of the building and forget the bad things waiting for me inside. But we’ve taken no more than a few steps when someone calls my name, halting our progress.
“Lincoln Porter, just the man I was hoping to catch.” Alex stalks over to us with a big grin stretched across his face, white teeth bright against his skin. He glances at my mother, tipping his chin in greeting. “Leticia.”
“Letty,” she corrects, a faint blush working its way over her cheeks. “I feel like I’m always reminding you not to call me by my full name, Detective.”
“Just trying to be respectful, ma’am. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”
She waves him off. “Nonsense. I’m Letty to everyone around here. Except this one.” She jabs her thumb in my direction, her mood seeming to soar as if it wasn’t minutes ago that she was sobbing over her best friend’s death.
Maybe my aura isn’t the only fucked-up one.
“He calls me Ma or I wash his mouth out with soap,” my mother continues, squeezing me.
I grind my teeth together, the irritation I stuffed down when he arrived with Sloane resurfacing. Straightening my spine, I cock a brow, prompting him. “Did you need something from us?”
“It’s not so much that I need something... more that we require your assistance.”
I snort. “What, the full use of my property isn’t cutting it? Want me to just do your fucking job?”
“If you think you know serial killers better than me, then be my guest.”
Sloane’s voice rakes over my skin like hot lava, its caress sweltering. She pops up behind Alex, shoving a piece of paper in my direction. I glance down at the title, and a genuine laugh rumbles from somewhere hidden in my chest.
Her lips twitch at the corners, as if amused by the sound, and I hate the way it sets my soul aflame. Hate that she affects me at all.
“Who’d you bribe for that one?” I notice the judge’s signature in the corner of the page. “Good forgery skills, I’ll give you that. But there’s no fucking way you’re stepping foot on my boat.”
“Need I remind you I was just on your boat less than twenty-four hours ago?” Sloane snaps, pulling the paper back.
Alex’s head whips toward her, brows knitting together. “You were?”
“We weren’t working, were we?” I say, releasing my mother’s arm and taking a step toward the detective. Her nostrils flare, and I can’t help wondering if she’s inhaling me the way I am her. “No one gets on my boat when I’m trying to do a damn job.”
“Now, wait—” Alex starts, moving as if to step between us, but Sloane holds her hand up to him, leaning in to jab her finger against my chest.
My heart stutters beneath her touch, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek, praying like hell that she can’t tell.
“Right now, your job is to help us find a murderer. Everything else can wait.”
“I’m not going to stop working just to tote you around, scouring the endless ocean for evidence that’s probably sank to the floor by now.”
“Do I need to have you hauled in again, Mr. Porter?”
Goddamn, the way her pink lips
curl around those words makes my nerve endings tingle. Someone pinches my side, and I snap my head around to look at my mother as she grips my pelvis with two fingers.
“How many more people have to die before you put your difference aside and help them?” She frowns, hand dropping to her side. “Do I have to die? Because at the rate my church group is dropping, it’s not looking good for me.”
My stomach flips at her words, the sharp edge of fear creeping into my brain from where I’ve been hiding it.
Dread inches up my spine, collecting in my muscles and spreading until it fills my veins, pumping erratically, drowning out my thoughts with the rushing sounds it makes.
I’ve been flippant about the murders since they started, because I don’t want to acknowledge the possibility that they could happen to someone I care about.
But with the increased frequency, lack of evidence, and the fact that the police simply don’t seem that concerned, I’m starting to wonder if it’s more of a risk than I thought.
Staring down at my mother, noting the sheen in her gaze and the way she clutches at her coat, like she’s too afraid to release it, I realize my ambivalence is probably causing her a lot more anxiety than necessary.
Even though she lives with a cop, it’s not like he’s around all the time. And since it’s just her, Daisy, and the baby, and we don’t know anything about motive or victims, I suppose her fears aren’t totally unwarranted.
Finally, my resolve crumbling, I turn to the detectives with a sigh, dropping my head in defeat. “Eight p.m., sharp. Be ready to go.”
Chapter 20
My eyes follow Lincoln as he walks his mother out of the front doors, my insides twisting with something sharp.
It isn’t smart to go out on the water with him alone, but I push the unease back, reminding myself that what happened last night was a one-time thing. A mistake. Something we worked out of our systems, which is actually great because now I can focus on what’s important. The only thing I’m actually here for; finding the serial killer of Skelm Island.
Be Still My Heart: A Romantic Suspense Page 13