Dial A for Addison (S.A.F.E Detective Agency Book 1)

by Piper Davenport

  Detective Pike leaned forward, clearing his throat. “Do you remember the name of your server? Or anyone else who could vouch for your presence there?”

  He seemed like he was genuinely trying to help, so I relaxed a bit. “Unfortunately no, but the girl was barely past eighteen and seriously in need of a makeover. She had badly-dyed black hair and eyebrows so thick they looked like two pieces of licorice stuck to her forehead.”

  Detective Parker had his head down, writing, but he didn’t even try to hide his smile. Confident he was warming up to me, I continued. “After dinner, Jimmy took us to the Brass Frog where we drank until Dylan could barely walk, then Jimmy took me home before dropping her off at her apartment. Both he and Dylan confirmed she got home okay, so I went to bed... alone, in case that matters.”

  Detective Parker’s mouth twitched and he shifted in his chair before focusing on me again. “How much did Ms. James have to drink?”

  “A lot. We both did, only she’s a lightweight. We had to practically pour her into the limo. Jimmy said she wouldn’t let him walk her up to her apartment, which, by the way, he got a talking-to about. She was wasted and he didn’t walk her upstairs? Jerk. If he didn’t work for my dad, I’d fire him.”

  “Right. Well, rudeness aside, since Jimmy didn’t walk her to the door, her alibi ended the moment he dropped her off.”

  “And when was Kirk killed?” I asked.

  He glanced at the file. “The time of death is currently confidential.”

  Of course it was. “Why?”

  “Because it’s difficult to fabricate an alibi if you don’t know the time of death.”

  Was he accusing me of lying? Of being willing to lie? “Listen, if Dylan had killed Kirk, I would know the time of death because she would have called me to help bury the body. I didn’t get a call, so she didn’t do it.”

  He eyed me. “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously.”

  “Of course I’m not, because it’s ridiculous.” I placed my hands on the table in an effort not to hit something. I’d been calm and charming, and now I was ready to flip my lid. “Dylan would never kill anyone. She doesn’t even kill bugs. I understand that you have to ask these questions, but she wouldn’t do it. She texted me as soon as she got home to say she got there okay. It wasn’t her.”

  “She texted?” he clarified.

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t give her an alibi. She could have texted before, during, or after the murder.”

  “Ohmigod, are you being serious right now?” I snapped.

  “A man is dead, Ms. Allen. It’s a very serious situation.”

  I take back thinking you were hot. You’re an ass.

  I took a deep breath. “I’d like my lawyer now.”

  He cocked his head, studying me. “Why do you think you need a lawyer?”

  “Oh, I don’t yet. But I’m thinking I might need one in a few minutes.”

  His eyebrows shot up his forehead.

  “I have an intense desire to hit you right now, and I’m preemptively requesting a lawyer because I’m not really in the mood to join my bestie in a cell for assaulting an officer.”

  Detective Parker blinked, clearly stunned, then he bit back a grin and glanced at Detective Pike.

  “I’ll get Mr. Allen,” Pike offered.

  The older man left the room and I crossed my arms and leaned back against the plastic seat, bouncing my leg up and down as I tended to do when stressed.

  “You okay?” Parker asked.

  I stilled my leg and sat up a bit. “Restless leg syndrome.”

  He chuckled. “Anyone ever tell you you’re funny?”

  I sighed. “My best friend. All the time. She could tell you herself, but she’s being wrongly imprisoned.”

  “Addison.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his expression serious once again. “May I call you Addison?”

  I shrugged, a shiver stealing down my spine at the sound of my name on his lips. “Knock yourself out.”

  “You can call me Jake. Your brother’s one of the good guys, which is rare to find in a criminal defense attorney. He’s already given me his take on Ms. James, and he’s warned me about you, too.”

  I bristled with indignation at his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “He said Ms. James is innocent and you’ll try to do everything you can to get her out of here.”

  “Well, yeah. She is my best friend.”

  He nodded. “And that’s admirable, but there’s nothing you can do for her right now.”

  My brother chose that moment to walk in and I jumped to my feet.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Not really,” I said. “I’d like to get Dylan and leave now.”

  “You can’t, Sis.”

  “She’s going to have to hang out here for the weekend,” Jake said.

  “Here? The entire weekend?” I rasped.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  I waved my finger at him. “FYI, Detective Parker, having to stay behind bars for the weekend is not the same as hanging out!” I faced Asher again. “Why can’t we just bail her out? I brought my checkbook!”

  “She has to appear in bond court, which won’t happen until Monday morning,” Jake provided.

  “Ashey, you have to do something. We can’t leave Dylan here for the weekend. She’ll go nuts.”

  My brother took my arms and squeezed gently. “I don’t have a whole lot of say here, Addie. I’m sorry.”

  “That is not an acceptable answer!” I squeaked in frustration, and then saw his expression and my heart fell. “Oh, Ashey, I’m so sorry. You’re probably just as worried as I am... maybe more.” He gave me a tight nod and I searched his face. “Have you seen her yet?”

  “They’re getting her.”

  “There must be something you can do. You’re Asher Allen! You are the most powerful man I know next to Daddy...” I gasped. “Daddy. I’ll call Daddy.”

  “Addie, even the great Bruce Allen can’t get Dylan out.”

  “He can call one of his judge cronies,” I argued.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Jake said.

  “I have to at least try!”

  “Okay, Addie,” my brother crooned. “Let’s take a minute.”

  “Oh, go screw your minute,” I said, and dug my phone out of my purse, calling my dad.

  “Hey, Button.”

  “Hi, Daddy,” I said, adding a little extra charm and saccharin to my voice. “Um, I need a super-duper big favor.”

  “Anything, sweetheart.”

  “Dylan’s been arrested... for something she totally didn’t do... but they’re saying she has to stay here for the weekend. Can you call one of your friends to get her released, please?”

  “No can do, honey.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Why not?” I scrunched up my nose in frustration. “You golf with Judge Reynolds.”

  “Addison, I’m not calling Gary on his day off to get your friend out of jail.”

  I took a deep breath in an effort not to eviscerate my father. “Daddy. You know Dylan. You love Dylan. She’s practically family. Please.”

  “I can’t, Addison. I’m sorry. I’m actually running into a meeting, so I’m gonna let you go.”

  He hung up and I dropped my phone back in my purse.

  “What did he say?” Asher asked.

  I bit my lip. “He won’t help.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  I sighed. “If you can’t get her out, put me in with her.”

  “No way,” Asher said.

  I grabbed Asher’s arms and stared up at him, whispering, “You know what she’s been through, Ashey... with her dad. This will kill her.”

  “She’s stronger than you think, Sis.”

  I blinked back tears and shook my head. “You can’t leave her in there.”

  “I have no choice.”

  I angril
y wiped my tears away from my cheeks. “Then I’m staying.”

  “Blowfish, Addie.”

  I scowled. “Suck it, Asher.”

  “Blowfish” had been our secret code word since high school. We used it when one of us was acting erratically. Right now, however, my best friend was in trouble, so my brother could stick his blowfish up his butt for all I cared.

  “Addison,” Jake said, his tone placating, like he was trying to tame a feral cat.

  “Don’t,” I demanded.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Don’t speak to me as though I’m a crazy person poised to kill someone. Unless you’re prepared to release my friend, you can sit your sexy butt down—” I hissed in frustration as my brother’s face contorted in a horrified expression. Okay, maybe it was my face. Why did I call Jake’s butt sexy? What the hell was wrong with me? “If you really can’t get Dylan out, then I’ll stay with her.”

  “You can’t stay here, Addison,” Jake said.

  “What if I hit you?”

  “What?”

  “What if I hit you? Or kick you? Or I don’t know, scratch your gorgeous blue eyes out.”

  Damn it! Again? I’m losing my mind!

  He chuckled. “Say again?”

  “I’m prepared to assault you. I don’t want to do it, because I’m a lover, not a fighter, but I’ll do anything I need to get to Dylan.” I stepped closer to the gorgeous man. “Will you lock me up if I assault you?”

  My brother’s arms wrapped around me like a vice and he physically moved me away from the detective. “Blowfish, blowfish, blowfish.”

  “Is she serious?” Jake asked Asher.

  “As a heart attack.”

  “Let me go, Ashey.”

  “You can’t assault Jake, Sis. I’m sorry.”

  I pulled away from Asher, ignoring his edict, and faced Jake. “Which part of your body would you like me to hit?”

  His eyebrows rose and he let out a surprised chuckle.

  “I’ll stay away from your... ah... private area, but I need to know which part of your body will get me locked up.”

  “I’m not gonna arrest you, Addison.”

  “Then you’re useless.”

  Jake dropped his head back and laughed.

  I growled, lunging forward but not getting far... you know, because my brother grabbed me again before I could do any damage. “Maybe we should all just take a minute,” he suggested. “Jake, if you’re finished questioning Addie, I’m going to walk her to her car before I talk to Dylan.”

  Jake looked over his notes. “I think we’re done here.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket, sliding it between his index and middle finger, and offering it to me.

  I scowled at him and didn’t move.

  “My card. Please take it in case you think of anything that can help Ms. James.” His gaze locked with mine and then slid to my mouth. My breath caught and I couldn’t stop myself from licking my lips as he continued to stare at me. He made me feel all floaty and crap. This was not me. Men didn’t make me feel floaty and crap, I did it to them! Gah!

  And just when I’d written him off for an asshole. I took his card and, when our fingers brushed, another fire ignited beneath my skin. Who the hell was this guy and why did he affect me like this?

  Asher tugged at my arm. “Okay, Sis, let’s get you out of here.”

  I reluctantly led him to my car and then took off. I had a plan, which required a stop at my apartment and then the local Target. I was getting Dylan out of that jail if it was the last thing I did.

  Dylan

  THE WORST THING about being in jail was that it felt like home. Although I’d never been in the MCDC, much of my childhood had been spent reading or doing homework outside my dad’s cell while he slept off enough whisky to drive us home. The cops probably should have taken his driver’s license away, but instead they called him a “harmless drunk” and continued to let him off with a warning. It helped that we were related to most of the police force.

  Regardless of my father’s disregard for the law, I’d never been on the inside of the bars before. In spite of the townies who predicted otherwise, I’d done well. Desperate to escape my dead-end hometown, I busted my butt filling out forms, grant requests, and applications to receive a full scholarship to a private boarding school in Portland, where I stayed from sixth grade on. Hell, I was the first person in my family to even step foot in college, much less earn a degree. Yet none of my hard work and accomplishments had kept me from this moment… handcuffed to a very nervous nun and waiting to get fingerprinted.

  The nun was gnawing off the fingernails of her free hand, and they were getting pretty close to the stub. Worried for the safety of her fingers, I tried to distract her.

  “What are you in here for?” I asked.

  She pulled her hand away, studied the damage, and replied, “Drugs. And family.”

  A nun with a drug problem? That was unexpected. Still, I kind of got it. I snorted. “I feel you. Being around my family would drive me to drugs too.”

  “Oh, no, sorry. Not my drug problem... well, since I’m in here, I suppose it kind of became my drug problem. My stupid-ass brother.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Sorry. I’m working on my swearing problem.”

  “No judgment here,” I said.

  She smiled. “Thanks. I’m Alexa... I mean, Sister Maria. What’d you do?”

  Not like I was an authority on nuns or anything, but this girl definitely didn’t sound like one. Still, I decided to play along. “I’m Dylan. They found a body outside my apartment.”

  Her eyes widened, but before she could say anything else, an officer uncuffed us and led us to the fingerprint scanning station.

  Once I was fingerprinted and booked—dressed in thin sweat pants, a plain pink T-shirt, tube socks, and plastic shoes—a big male guard and I were buzzed into a room with two levels of cells. The small jail I’d basically grown up in didn’t have a catwalk, so this was a new experience for me. It was like the place was built to intimidate. Every footstep echoed as he walked me down the loneliest hallway I’d ever encountered. It smelled like a bizarre combination of cold metal, cement, body odor, and desperation, suffocating a little more hope with every step we took.

  I could feel people watching me, probably wondering what my story was, and I caught glimpses of my new neighbors through their small barred windows. My stomach clenched as I fought the urge to tell the guard I didn’t belong there. No doubt he’d heard that line before. Besides, a voice in the back of my mind kept reminding me of who my old man was, insisting I deserved to follow in his footsteps. Only Dad was never booked. Jail for him had been more like an overnight stay at a free motel.

  Before showing me to my cell, the guard handed me two small blankets, a towel, threadbare sheets, and a pillowcase. I clutched my new belongings to my chest, wishing they could magically transport me back in time twenty-four hours so I could take Addison up on her offer and crash in her spare bedroom.

  Instead, here I was, sinking even lower than my old man. And I hadn’t even done anything wrong.

  Mentally flipping genetics the bird, I slid past the three-inch thick door and into the eight-by-eight cell. My temporary home contained a stainless steel toilet, sink, reflective surface, and a foam mattress on a platform.

  There was an ominous click, and I turned to find myself alone. The guard had left without so much as a good-bye. I rushed to the window and peered out, seeing his retreating back. Feeling defeated, I slunk to the ground, dropping my belongings so I could hug my knees to my chest.

  It’ll be fine. Addie and Ash will come for me, I reassured myself, rocking back and forth. The cement floor felt cold beneath me. I eyed the bed, quickly dismissing it. I didn’t care how long I had to stay awake, I would not stoop so low as to sleep in jail.

  Minutes ticked by in a blur as I fought the alcohol in my system, which alternated between making me sleepy and making me nauseous. In the back of my mind, a little voice kept whis
pering that Addison and Asher weren’t coming. That they’d finally come to terms with my white-trashiness and had written me off for good.

  I don’t know how long I wallowed in self-pity before metal slid across concrete and someone called out, “James, your lawyer’s here.”

  I pushed myself to my feet and looked out. The guard standing outside my window directed me to turn around, then he opened the door and handcuffed me. We clomped past several cells and down a set of stairs into a room where Asher was waiting. Both relief and shame warmed my cheeks when his eyes took me in and widened. I had a pretty good idea how awful I looked.

  “Those aren’t necessary,” Asher said, gesturing at my handcuffs.

  The guard removed them and then left us alone. Asher pulled me into his arms and held me for a few precious seconds before releasing me. I rubbed my wrists and sat in the chair on my side of the table.

  “How you holding up?” Asher asked.

  I forced a smile. “It’s like summer camp, with better food.”

  “Dylan.” There was more emotion behind the word than I could deal with. I looked anywhere but at Asher, knowing if I saw pity or disgust in his eyes, I’d lose it. “I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of this,” he assured me.

  “I know. I appreciate your help. I’m sorry you had to come down to—”

  “Don’t apologize,” he replied. “None of this is your fault.”

  Relief threatened to drown me, flooding my eyes with tears. “You don’t think I did it.”

  “Of course not.” He sounded almost offended. “I know you… who you really are under the tough-girl exterior. Besides, you’re smart. You wouldn’t have used your own butcher knife and you sure as hell wouldn’t have dumped the body outside your apartment like some sort of trophy.”

  “Ohmigod, it was my knife?”