by Ann Charles
Hours later, after feeding the kids some pepperoni pizza for supper, I sneaked upstairs and tried calling Doc for the third time. It kicked to voicemail after several rings. I hung up without leaving a message, just as I had before, and tossed my cell phone onto the bed. I needed to talk to Doc, not his voicemail. Besides, what I wanted to say shouldn’t be recorded.
My phone buzzed, announcing a text message. I grabbed it, hoping it was Natalie replying to my message about the cookie disaster at Cooper’s open house.
Nope—it was Doc: Hi, Trouble.
I typed back: Where are you?
Cooper’s.
What? Why?
Playing poker.
For real? I frowned, not liking Doc carousing with the law. There must not be any ghosts hanging out in Cooper’s house. Hell, the gun lamp had probably scared them away.
Before I could reply, another text came in: Cooper says to tell you no texting during poker. Gotta go.
“Cooper can shove it,” I told my phone and stuffed it in my sweat jacket pocket. A glance at the clock got me moving. Both kids had homework to finish before bed.
After cracking the whip, we watched a little TV, then brushed teeth and climbed into bed—well, they did, not me. I waited another hour before pulling the bottle of aged tequila down from the cupboard above the fridge. I didn’t waste time with a glass, just leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped from the bottle. Staring at Aunt Zoe’s Betty Boop cookie jar, I drank the smooth tasting liquor.
“You’re lucky, Betty,” I told Miss Boop, pointing at her with the bottle. “You get to eat all of the cookies you want and you still look sexy.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
“I used to be able to pull off wearing a bustier like yours, but having kids really messed up my fun-bags.” I took another hit of tequila and then pulled my phone from my pocket.
Doc had texted again: I want to talk to you.
I replied: You still at Cooper’s?
No. I’m standing on your back porch watching you talk to the cookie jar.
Oh! I looked at the back door. On the other side of the glass, Doc beckoned me outside with his index finger.
I pocketed my phone, set the tequila on the counter, and opened the door, shutting it and the screen quietly behind me. “What are you doing back here?”
Doc stood in the deep shadows, nothing more than a dark silhouette. “Being quiet on a school night.”
“Where’s your car?”
“At home. I walked. After all of the cigar smoke at Cooper’s, fresh air appealed.”
I crossed my arms, wanting to touch him but following his Joe-cool lead. “So you’re one of Cooper’s poker buddies now, huh?”
“Does that bother you?”
“A little. I don’t trust him not to whip out his handcuffs and haul me off to jail at any moment just because he feels like it.”
“You want to know what bothers me?”
“What?”
“You screaming your head off today and scaring the hell out of me.”
I grimaced. “Sorry about that. Mona really freaked me out.”
“I’m not talking about your verbal reaction to Mona.”
“What are you talking about then?”
“The panic I saw in your eyes.”
“I thought I was hallucinating.”
“When I saw you, I wanted to do this.” He reached out and captured my elbow, tugging me into the shadows with him where he enfolded me in his arms. “But I couldn’t. Not with an audience. That’s what really bothered me.”
I leaned my forehead against his chest. The faint odor of cigar smoke mixed with his cologne soothed away the day’s rough edges, taking care of what the tequila hadn’t. “I definitely could have used some of this right about then.”
He lifted my chin, tipping my head back. I tried to see his face, but the shadows were too deep.
“Then you sat there in your chair, trying to hide your trembling.”
“God, don’t remind me. I felt like such an idiot for overreacting,” I said.
His mouth touched mine, gentle, soft, slow; his lips caressed mine, taking their time. My heart rolled over and splayed out like a good puppy, vulnerable, smitten, his to treasure or crush. That couldn’t be good. I moaned.
He pulled back. “I’ve been waiting to do that all day.”
“Was it worth the wait?”
“I don’t know.” He walked me backwards until I was pressed against the side of the house. “I’m going to need to try it again to tell.” Capturing my wrists together in one hand, he held them hostage above my head against the siding. His eyes glittered from the feeble light coming through the back door window. “Now what’s this about me being short, little woman?”
I smiled up at him. “My new boss has several inches on you.”
“I noticed.” His lips moved along my jaw, teasing me with feathery kisses. “He looks familiar. I’ve seen him somewhere before.”
My body swayed toward him, wanting more contact. “Maybe you saw him visiting Jane before I came to town.”
Doc had been living in Deadwood about eight months before I moved up from Rapid.
“No,” he said. “Somewhere else.”
“I think he’s from the eastern side of the state.”
His free hand glided along the back of my neck, his body pressing mine into the house. “I don’t want to talk about your boss anymore.”
“So shut me up then,” I said, wrapping my leg around his thigh.
He obliged, plundering my mouth, the easy warmth between us now a sizzling fervor.
“You taste like tequila,” he said when his lips blazed a trail across my cheek. His hand slid down my neck, his palm covering my breast. “I want to drip lime juice on my favorite parts, sprinkle on some salt, and start licking.”
My head swooned and not just in a lovesick way. I had a feeling the tequila I’d downed while talking to Betty Boop was catching up with me, and Doc’s kisses weren’t helping my ability to remain vertical.
Doc let go of my wrists and stepped back, slipping free of my leg hold. “We shouldn’t do this here.”
“I know.” Groaning, I slid down the wall, aching. “The kids might hear us.”
“And your aunt.”
“She’s on a date.” I peeked up at him. “We could sneak upstairs to my bed.”
“It squeaks.”
“How do you know that?” He hadn’t been in my bedroom yet.
“I heard it the other night when you were talking to me on the phone,” he said.
“You were paying attention to the bed’s springs?”
“I was imagining you naked on it.”
“Really? What were we talking about?” I didn’t remember getting heated up like I usually did when he started telling where he wanted to touch and how.
“You were asking me what kind of car you should buy when you get the commission from Cornelius’s sale.”
I giggled. “And you were thinking about me naked right then?”
“Violet, I think about you naked ninety percent of the time I’m talking to you, in person or on the phone.”
“What about the other ten percent?”
“You’re wearing something lacy.”
A loud laugh escaped from my throat before I could corral it.
Doc covered my mouth with his hand. “Shhh.”
That made me laugh even harder.
He changed out his hand for his lips.
My laughter died in my throat as he fired up my rockets again—all systems go!
He pulled away much too soon and tugged me over to the porch steps, drawing me down next to him. I resisted the urge to tackle him and drag him behind Aunt Zoe’s juniper shrubs.
“So,” he said, “tell me what you found at Cooper’s house that nearly got you in big trouble at my office.”
“Oh, jeez.” I buried my face in my hands. “I almost swallowed my tongue when I opened my eyes and saw the detective sta
nding over me instead of you.”
“You should’ve seen your face.” I could hear the grin in his tone.
I poked him in the ribs. “Thanks for the heads up on that. You could have warned me.”
He caught my hand and laced his fingers through mine. “And say what? ‘Violet, don’t talk about Detective Cooper because he’s standing in my back room looking at a book with old pictures of Mudder Brothers Funeral Parlor.’”
Cooper was looking at old Mudder Brothers’ pics? Why? I’d have to ponder that later.
“Well, something like that certainly would have helped,” I said.
He squeezed my hand. “Tell me what you found.”
I glanced back over my shoulder, making sure neither of my kids was eavesdropping. “A corkboard with Jane’s name pinned on it, surrounded by other names, including mine.”
Doc was silent for a moment, and then said, “You think it’s his case board.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“That’s what they call it on TV.”
“There was something else on it.” I stared out at the dark shadows hovering just beyond the glow of the house lights. “A picture of a barbed hook covered with blood.”
“The murder weapon?”
“That’s my guess.”
I hesitated to tell him the rest, hating to say it aloud, as if giving it voice would make it more real, more dangerous. But I needed to tell someone, and Doc was probably the only one who would believe I hadn’t been imagining things in that autopsy room.
“I’ve seen a hook just like it before, Doc. Only that one wasn’t covered in blood.”
I felt the weight of Doc’s stare. “Where?”
“That night at Mudder Brothers.”
“The albino?” he asked.
I nodded. “He threatened me with it.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
His thumb stroked my palm. “Are you going to tell Cooper?”
“How can I? If I say anything, he’ll know I withheld information from him about that night at the funeral parlor, which will make him wonder what else I’m hiding. I don’t need him sniffing around me any more than he already does.”
“Violet, it isn’t just a bottle you’re concealing this time. It’s a link to Jane’s murder weapon.”
“I know that, but Cooper’s going to wonder how I came to know about Jane’s murder weapon, which means he’ll know I was in that basement room he ordered Harvey and me to stay out of. At the least, he’ll fire me as his real estate agent, which will not win me any favors with my new boss.” And with Ray and Benjamin on the sidelines waiting for me to stumble, I needed to look like I was still running strong.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” Doc asked.
“I could end up in jail for a multitude of charges, including stealing evidence.”
“Stealing evidence?”
“Yeah, there’s that book from the Carhart house that I kept, the one that belonged to Lila.” After the sadistic bitch had tried to use it to lure a demon into impregnating me, I figured I had a right to keep it handy in case something started stirring inside of me. And something had, only in my brain, not my uterus.
“Right,” Doc said, sounding tired. “The book.”
Doc was hiding the book for me in his closet, studying it, watching for more signs of the demon, Kyrkozz, who’d paid a visit to me in my nightmares a couple of weeks ago and warned me to “get out.” If only I knew how to depart from where he was referring, I’d be happy to let the door hit me in the ass on the way out.
“Cooper might be able to help protect you,” Doc said.
“You and I both know from firsthand experience that Cooper’s gun didn’t work on that albino.”
We stared out into the darkness for several silent breaths. The surrounding pine trees muffled the usual ruckus from Deadwood—traffic, music, and laughter. If only they could block out the threatening elements, too.
“What are you going to do?” Doc asked.
“I don’t know. That’s why I needed to talk to you, to help me make sense of what that hook means.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt, Violet.”
Were we talking about my crazy-for-Doc feelings here or a killer albino? I went with the latter, hiding behind a grin. “Me, either. Pain is not really my thing.”
My pocket rang. I fished out my phone, figuring it was Aunt Zoe calling to tell me she was going to be really late—as in after-breakfast late.
Cooper’s name showed on the screen. The detective must have bionic ears.
“It’s Cooper,” I whispered.
“You’d better answer it or he might show up on your doorstep with a search party ready to hunt you down. Again.”
I wrinkled my nose at Doc and pushed the Answer button. “Hello?”
“Where’s my Peacemaker?” Cooper asked.
“It’s nice to hear your voice, too, Detective Cooper.”
He huffed. “It’s hard to read in bed without my lamp.”
Cooper read? I imagined all sorts of firearm how-to manuals piled next to him on the nightstand.
“You’re just afraid you won’t be able to shoot the bogeyman. Although with the deadbolt on the inside of your closet door, you’re kind of screwed.”
“I’m not laughing, Parker. Where’s my light?”
He sounded extra crotchety tonight, like he’d spent the night getting his chest waxed instead of playing poker with his buddies and drinking beer.
“I hid it in your pantry behind the flour container,” I told him. “I can’t have loaded guns at my open houses.”
“But kitchen fires and garage explosions are okay?”
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
“Reid sends his love,” he said. I could imagine the smirk on his lips right then.
“I didn’t know you snuggled up with Deadwood’s fire captain at night. How cozy for you two.”
“He’s passed out on my couch, wiseass.”
“Does that happen often?” Or did it have something to do with Aunt Zoe seeing another man?
“Nope. Sleep tight, Parker. Tell Doc not to bite. Leave that to your zombie friends.” The line went dead.
I stuffed the phone back in my pocket. “Did you tell Cooper you were coming here?”
“No. But he knows you kept calling me during the game.”
“So Reid was there playing with you guys tonight?”
“Yes. Your fiery past was one of the topics of discussion.”
“You defended my reputation, of course?”
“Of course,” he said in mock seriousness then ruined it by laughing under his breath.
I lifted his hand and bit his knuckle until he pulled away, still laughing.
“Did Reid say anything about Aunt Zoe?” I asked. I doubted he had but wondered nonetheless.
“No. But damn that guy can drink. Cooper mentioned handcuffing him to the couch so he wouldn’t try to drive home.”
Poor Reid. I bet I knew why he’d been drinking so much. Broken hearts were often drowned in bottles.
I heard the back door hinges creak and jumped up, yanking my hand from Doc’s.
“Mom?” Layne said from the other side of the screen door. “I heard voices. What are you doing out here?” He turned on the back porch light.
I shielded my eyes from the brightness. “I’m talking to Doc.”
“What’s he doing here so late?” His tone made it clear he was not thrilled with Doc sitting in the dark with me.
“He’s keeping me company until Aunt Zoe gets home.”
“Why do you need company? You’ve been alone a bunch before.”
Tell me about it. “Layne, go back to bed. You have school in the morning.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Now, Layne.” He slammed the door.
“Dang it. Now Addy’s probably awake.”
Doc stood. “I should go.”
I’d rather he ju
st held my hand again, but reality had returned, along with the fact that my kids seemed to send Doc running in the other direction.
“I’ll walk you to the gate,” I said.
We strolled through the grass in silence, not touching.
I closed the gate behind him. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He took a couple of strides and then stopped and walked back.
“Did you forget something?” I asked, hoping he had. A declaration of his undying love would have been nice. I’d even have settled for a declaration of undying lust with the hope that it would grow into something more.
“What happened to their father?” he asked.
I stepped back in surprise, not expecting a question about Rex, the good-for-nothing asshole who’d left me high and dry shortly after finding out I was pregnant.
“He didn’t want kids.” I gave the short and bittersweet version.
“When did they last see him?”
“Never. He left when I was pregnant and signed away all rights after they were born.”
“Have you heard from him since?”
As a matter of fact, I had recently but not directly. Detective Cooper knew all about it, and while I often hated how tight-lipped he was, this was one of those times I was happy he didn’t share secrets.
It turned out that Rex seemed to be trying to check up on me. It was because of him asking around about me that my business card had ended up in the hand of the decapitated body found in the old cemetery out behind Harvey’s barn a few weeks back. I didn’t know why Rex was suddenly interested in catching up nor did I want to. I wanted the bastard to stay the hell away from my children.
“No, I haven’t,” I answered, which was essentially true since he hadn’t actually contacted me. “And as far as I’m concerned, my children never will either.”
“Mom?” Layne called out again from the back door.
“Damn it.” I growled in my throat.
“Go be with your kids, Violet,” Doc said, walking away backwards. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Chapter Seven
Monday, September 3rd
I slept like hell.
Maybe it was the tequila. Or Doc’s questions about Rex. Or Cooper and that damned albino’s hook. Or a pea under my mattress. Whatever the reason, I had sweaty nightmares that merged together into a kaleidoscope of terror until I woke up in the midst of a muffled pillow scream. Then I dragged my tired ass to the shower.