Divorced, Desperate and Daring

by Christie Craig

  “Yes it is,” Sheri said. She had bought the condo from a cousin of Mrs. Lamb’s and they’d discovered they had the same the birthday. “Happy birthday.”

  “The same to you, young lady. My granddaughter is taking me to lunch tomorrow. Are you doing anything special?”

  “My mom’s taking me to dinner Sunday.”

  “Well, I’m baking myself a cake, if you’d like to come over tomorrow afternoon. We’ll celebrate together. I’m making carrot cake. Got party hats and everything.”

  Sheri remembered she’d be staying at Chloe’s. “Thanks, I’m actually staying at a friend’s for the weekend, but maybe when I’m back.”

  “I’ll save you a piece,” the woman said, sounding disappointed.

  “That would be nice. I’ll come over as soon as I get back. Enjoy your birthday lunch.”

  “I will.” Mrs. Lamb moved on. When Sheri turned to go inside, Danny stood in the doorway watching her. She couldn’t read his expression, but he looked serious, sort of sad yet sexy in a guy-feeling-vulnerable kind of way.

  He ran a hand through his hair. Her gut said he was about to say something she probably didn’t want to hear.

  “I . . . I’m gonna go get my things together.” She walked past him, praying that in those few minutes alone, she’d figure out the right thing to say or not say to the man who’d left footprints on her heart in just one night.

  Footprints almost as deep as those left by her three-year engagement. How Danny had managed to do that so quickly was still a mystery.

  But some mysteries didn’t need to be solved. They just needed to be forgotten.

  Chapter Five

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  Danny set the garbage bag by the French doors and glanced back. She looked a little unsure, unprepared, unhappy. He knew the feeling. He still hadn’t worked out how to approach all this—what to say, what not to say.

  He could kick his own ass for getting angry earlier.

  She took another step. Behind her she rolled a small suitcase. Her posture and expression reminded him of kid packed to go to a camp they were being forced to attend. He knew. He’d been to one every summer before his parents divorced.

  Sheri had barricaded herself in her bedroom for almost an hour. Twice he’d almost knocked on her door but decided against it.

  “I don’t mind.” Oddly, he recalled reading an article in a woman’s magazine listing fifty things a man could do to keep a woman happy. The list consisted of a variety of things like giving foot rubs, being a good listener and finishing little household chores without being asked. At the time, he’d been married to Tanya, sensing something was wrong and trying everything to make things right.

  Little did he know that no amount of foot rubbing or chores would have helped. She’d never intended to stay married to him.

  “I’m ready when you are,” she said. “Oh, but first, I should give you instructions on Taco.”

  The dog, hearing his name, moseyed over to her—legs and head moving so loosely he reminded Danny of the old Scooby-Doo cartoon. Sheri instinctively dropped her hand and rubbed the dog behind the ears. The animal, enjoying the touch so much, turned his head to the side and leaned against her. Danny remembered how soft her touch was. She had good hands. Memories of that night tiptoed through his mind.

  She moved over to a pair of doors. “The foods here. There’s a large scoop in there. He gets two scoops in the morning and two in the evening around eight.” She motioned to the corner where the dog bowls were. “Be sure he has plenty of water. He’ll go to the door and make groaning noises when he needs to go outside. If you are leaving for more than an hour, let him out first. Don’t leave him out, though. He’s not an outside dog. He looks tough, but he’s not.”

  Neither was she? He wasn’t sure where that thought came from, but he sensed her bravado was weaker than she wanted to admit.

  “I’ll take good care of him. We’ll be fine. Won’t we, Taco?”

  The dog looked at him and trotted forward. The large eyes glancing up told Danny he expected the same attention he’d gotten from Sheri. Danny wasn’t afraid of the dog. Well, not really, but his size alone demanded respect.

  He stuck his hand out and let the dog sniff him before he turned his palm over and petted him.

  “Whenever he smells food, sees you eating or is eating, he’ll drool. It happens. I know it’s gross, but he can’t control it.”

  “Isn’t there an—”

  “Yes, there’s an operation, and he’s not getting it!” She frowned protectively. “I leave a towel on the floor. If you give the command ‘towel,’ he’ll bring it to you to clean him up.”

  “Smart dog,” he said. Or rather, smart dog owner. If the beast was afraid of Pooch, who weighed in at fewer than five pounds, how smart could he be?

  “How long have you had him?” Danny asked.

  “Two years. He came into the shelter where I volunteer. Was covered with mange and in such poor health, they were going to put him down. I said I’d take him—as is. Four thousand dollars later, I had a healthy dog.”

  “Per pound he’s a bargain,” he said and grinned.

  She almost smiled. He saw it in her eyes. But she ended it before it really touched her lips. That was it. He was determined to win back the right to witness her smiles and experience her touches.

  “Best money I’ve ever spent,” she said, honesty giving her words a punch.

  “He’s a lucky dog.” He scratched the animal behind his ears.

  “Nope, I’m the lucky one.” She looked at Taco with affection and knelt down. The animal moseyed back to her. She put her arms around him, hugged him, and whispered something in the dog’s ear. Then she stood up. “Oh, he sleeps in my bedroom on his bed. You can sleep in my office. There’s a bed with clean sheets.”

  She glanced back at Taco. “He might be more comfortable sleeping in the room with you, so you can move his bed in there.” She paused. “Why don’t I just move the doggy bed now?”

  He watched her run off, almost as if the idea of him in her bedroom disturbed her. He started after her when his phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he saw it was Paul Manning, the homicide cop. He’d texted him earlier when Sheri had been hiding out and asked if he’d gotten any info.

  “Hey,” Danny said. “You got anything?”

  “Yeah, I’ve spoken with one of them. The other one is doing time in Huntsville. How serious are you with this chick?”

  “We’re not. Why?”

  “Making sure there won’t be any conflict.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got two active cases running me wild. You gonna be around to help me interview her in a couple of hours? Alders is out on maternity leave. I talked to my sergeant, and he’s checking to see if your department can assist on this one.”

  Danny gazed at the packed suitcase. Following her to Cary’s wouldn’t take but thirty minutes. He could easily be at the precinct in a couple of hours. And he’d still have some time to check out a few of Sheri’s leads.

  “Yeah. I’ll be there in time. Did you tell her what’s it’s about?”

  “Yeah, she claimed to know who might be doing it. So it might not be your Sheri Thompson.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Danny said.

  “I got a call that the sketch Perkins provided is done. I’m going over there to pick it up.”

  “Great.” When he lifted his gaze, Sheri stood in the doorway. “Okay, I’ll see you then.” He hung up.

  “News?” she asked, petting Taco, who had moved back to where she stood.

  “They’ve got one of the other Sheris coming in this afternoon.”

  “Maybe you’ll solve this and I can sleep in my own bed tonight.”

  “Sounds good, but I doubt it will be that fast. We’ll have to interview her and then any potential people who she thinks might want her dead. I wouldn’t count on this being solved that fast.” Besides, he needed some time to get on her good
side.

  She frowned. “I’m taking two days’ worth of clothes but then I’m coming back. It’s not me who some lunatic wants to kill.”

  He nodded, not really to agree with her, but he’d cross that bridge later.

  “Oh, God!” She made a funny face and slapped a hand over her nose. The smell hit him right then. Hit hard, and rolled over him like a dump truck.

  “Good God!” He covered his own nose. “What is that?”

  “Taco,” she said, her voice muffled behind her hand. “He gets gas when he eats any dairy product. Let him out.” She waved to the door. “Hurry!”

  Danny yanked the door open with his free hand and motioned for the dog to go.

  “Out,” Sheri said.

  The dog moved, but right before he got all the way out, a sound squeaked out of his rear end. The dog stopped, looked back and sniffed the air as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

  “Damn!” Danny took a step back. He looked at Sheri. “And I have to sleep in the same room with him?”

  That’s when it happened. She laughed. Her hand still covered her lips, but her blue eyes lit up with humor and the sound coming from behind her fingers rang like pure magic. It brought sweet images of them in bed, laughing and holding on to each other for the whole damn night.

  Danny’s chest filled with something he hadn’t felt in a while. Happiness. Hope. As hideous as the smell was, the moment was worth it.

  • • •

  Sheri pulled into the parking lot of Chloe and Cary’s condo. Danny had followed her. She got out of her car and pulled the suitcase from the backseat. The November wind, cold and slightly wet, brushed past her. Sweeping her hair out of her face, she waved at him, hoping he planned on just driving away.

  The few minutes of laughter they’d shared back at her place had stung. It reminded her of what they’d had. Brought back bittersweet memories of the hours they’d locked themselves away from the world.

  She started moving, rolling the suitcase behind her. Drive away. Just drive away, damn it!

  She glanced back, hoping to see his car heading to the exit. Nope.

  He’d turned his engine off and had gotten out as if to see her to the door.

  Totally unnecessary. “I’ve got a key,” she said and hotfooted it toward Chloe’s condo, slowing down as she neared the front porch to search for the key in her purse.

  She heard his footsteps behind her and looked back. He stood only a few feet away.

  “I want to talk to Cary,” he said.

  “They’re not here,” she reminded him.

  Disappointment flashed in Danny’s eyes as if her abruptness offended him. “They just pulled up.” He motioned to the right, and Sheri spotted Cary and Chloe walking toward them.

  “Oh,” she said and resigned herself to a few more minutes of Danny time. His footsteps ate up the last few feet of her personal space. He stood so close now, she could feel his body warmth. His scent, a hint of men’s spicy soap and maybe a little of Dawn dishwashing liquid, filled her air. She took a side step.

  “Perfect timing,” Chloe said, hurrying up.

  “Yeah.” Sheri forced a smile.

  “Paul called,” Danny said to Cary. “They got another Sheri coming in.”

  “Great.” Cary looked at Chloe. “How about I join him to just get the heads-up on things?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  He moved over and planted a kiss on Chloe. Sheri looked away. Their kisses always lasted a fraction of a second too long, making whoever was present feel the tiniest bit awkward. Or maybe “awkward” was the wrong word. “Envious” was more like it.

  Looking off into space while the seconds passed, she felt Danny’s eyes on her and, without meaning to, met his gaze.

  “I’ll call you and let you know what we find.” He offered a slight smile.

  She almost told him not to worry. Since Cary was going, she didn’t need to hear from him. Ever again. But it would have sounded incredibly rude. And while she could do mildly impolite with almost no regrets, incredibly rude was something she didn’t excel at. So she just nodded.

  “I won’t be late.” Cary’s voice told Sheri it was safe to look their way.

  “Hey,” Danny’s voice brought her gaze back to him.

  He’d stepped closer. His shoulder was just a few inches from hers, and his scent was surrounding her again. This time she got a whiff of pizza, too.

  “I need a key.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She fumbled with her key ring until she got it loose. When she handed it to him, he touched her. A bolt of something both painful and sweet had her lungs pushing out and pulling in air at the same time.

  Their eyes met and locked. It felt awkward. Uncomfortable. It also felt like home.

  She finally glanced away, and Danny and Cary walked off.

  “Come on,” Chloe said, unlocking her door and glancing at Sheri. “After the morning you’ve had, you deserve a glass of wine.”

  • • •

  Danny had just enough time to stop by his apartment and change out of his pizza-scented clothes. He’d have to come by later and grab a few things for his stay at Sheri’s.

  Cary was waiting in his car in front of the precinct when Danny got there. It was about thirty minutes before the other Sheri Thompson was due to arrive. Moving to the Homicide Department on the second floor, he went in search of Manning.

  “Hey,” Danny said, finding the man in his broom closet of an office. Danny stepped inside, and Cary stood at the door.

  Paul looked up and frowned. Danny got the feeling the guy already had bad news for them.

  “What?” Danny asked.

  “I got the sketch, but it might be a dud.”

  “What?” Cary asked.

  “The artist, Dudley, said your guy Perkins went from beady eyes to bug eyes, from red hair to blond. Consensus is, he’d be surprised if there was any likeness at all. He felt the guy was doing it on purpose. Either protecting the guy or scared.”

  “Friggin’ hell! Why didn’t someone call me?”

  “Hey . . . don’t hate the messenger. Dudley did say if you wanted to shake the guy down a little, he’d go back and give it another try next week.”

  Next week? He wanted the sketch today! “Damn it! So we don’t have anything to show the Sheri coming in?”

  “Oh, we got it. Dudley just thinks it’s crap.” Manning opened a manila folder and pushed the sketch over. The face was so generic, it looked fake.

  Danny’s gut said Dudley was right. This sketch wasn’t going to do shit for them.

  Looked like Danny was going to have to have another powwow with James Perkins and his lawyer. If the lowlife didn’t produce a real sketch, the deal was off.

  • • •

  “It’s Amy Brown. I’m telling you. She did it.” This Sheri Thompson was certain she knew who’d taken out a hit on her. Problem was, just because she said it, didn’t make it true.

  Cary met Danny’s eyes. He shifted, and his chair squeaked on the tile floor. Before she’d arrived, Paul got called out on one of his cases, so Cary and Danny offered to do the interview.

  Danny moved a pen in his hand and studied the woman. Bleached blond hair, thin, probably pushing forty but she looked a little rode hard and put up wet.

  “The issue is,” Danny spoke in a calm manner, “the person who attempted to hire our guy was a man.” He pushed over the sketch for her to look at. “Does this man look familiar?”

  She glanced down. “No. But Amy could pass for a man. Why do you think her husband was seeing me?”

  “So you were having an affair with her husband?” Danny asked, noting motive.

  “They were separated. Not that it seemed to matter to her. The bitch egged my car.”

  “Egged your car,” Cary repeated, cutting Danny a look that was easily readable. People who egged cars weren’t exactly the type to hire a hit man. Keying a car or slicing tires would have been slightly more incriminating, but egging?

 
“Yeah.”

  “Are you still seeing Mr. Brown?” Cary asked.

  “No.” She blinked and glanced to the left, her lying skills so piss-poor it was almost comical.

  “Look, we need you to be up front,” Danny insisted.

  She frowned. “Fine. I saw him a couple of weeks ago. But it was a last-time thing.”

  “Was the breakup your idea or Mr. Brown’s?” Danny asked. The timing would almost be perfect.

  “What does that have to do with the case?” she asked.

  “We’re just wondering if Mr. Brown might be the one who’s upset and looking for revenge,” Cary said.

  “No. He really cares about me. We’d still be together if his bitch of a wife hadn’t gotten pregnant.”

  “I see,” Danny muttered.

  “Anyone else you can think of who might be out to get you? A disgruntled boyfriend?” Cary asked.

  “No. I’m engaged,” she said matter-of-factly, as if she hadn’t just admitted to having a last-time quickie with a married man.

  And he couldn’t help but wonder what her fiancé might think about that.

  She wiggled her left hand in front of him to show off her ring.

  “No custody battle over kids or anything?” Danny asked before going straight to the fiancé.

  “Oh, shit!” she said. “You think Jacob is doing this?”

  Danny looked down at his notes, which included Amy Brown’s address. His gut said the pregnant wife wasn’t behind this. “And Jacob is . . . ?”

  “My ex. Jacob Thompson. He’s always bitching about having to pay child support.”

  “Do you have an address for Jacob?”

  She spit it out.

  Then Cary spoke up. “About your fiancé . . . what was his name?” The look his friend shot him told Danny that Cary was thinking the same thing he was. The pregnant, car-egging wife wasn’t their top suspect. An ex or a jealous fiancé better fit the bill.

  “Ricky Logan,” she said.