In Full Force: Badges of Becker County

by Kathy Altman

  The phone continued to ring. When he finally answered, her stomach clutched. The low timbre of his voice carried a cautious pleasure, but she refused to let herself get sidetracked from her fury.

  “Hello?” Grady said.

  One woman had accused her of being in bed with Grady—literally. Charity had decided to ignore how hypocritical it was to act outraged when she’d spent more than one sleepless night thinking about that very thing.

  Although now her fantasies had everything to do with wrapping her hands around his throat and nothing to do with wrapping her legs around his hips.

  Well, nothing much.

  “If this is supposed to be a crank call,” he drawled, “you need to breathe harder.”

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “You’re supposed to ask what I’m wearing.”

  Her thighs tightened, and coffee seeped out from under the plastic lid. Hot liquid soaked through her pants and she hissed in a breath.

  “You’re picturing me naked, aren’t you?”

  “Spilled my coffee.” Charity gritted her teeth. She set the cup in the holder and swiped at the widening splotch with a napkin. The one advantage to her uniform’s unflattering color? Stains rarely showed.

  Shouts sounded in the background. Grady grunted like he’d shoved something, and someone yelled “Aww, man.”

  Curiosity got the better of her. “What are you doing?”

  “Watching a soccer game. From inside the goal. Made you spill your coffee, huh? You all right?”

  She mentally elbowed aside memories of cheering him on from the sidelines during high school games and reminded herself why she’d called. “Want to know what I’m doing?”

  “Besides sucking at phone sex?”

  “I just finished taking a statement from Scott Langford. Funny thing. He’s under the impression you’re helping with the investigation.”

  “You don’t sound like you think it’s funny.”

  His nonchalance was the last straw. “You want to compromise everything we’ve done so far? You want to hand Drew over to the county prosecutor? Then you continue playing detective.”

  “Afraid I’ll show you up?”

  “Back. Off.”

  “We still talking about the investigation?”

  Charity didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

  “What are you going to do, come after me full force?” Another grunt, a muffled thump, and a cheer in the distance. Grady exhaled. “Isn’t this the kind of thing you should be telling me in person?”

  “I tried.”

  “Were you going to tell me about your intruder the other night?”

  Brenda June. Charity wagged her head in disbelief as her fingers crept up to the scratches on her shoulder. What was the saying? Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver?

  “Char?”

  “No,” she snapped. “And you’re not putting this back on me.”

  “You could have been hurt.”

  “I face that possibility every day.” When Grady didn’t respond, she added, “I have a weapon and I’m trained to use it.” Still no answer. “Are you going to back off, or am I going to have to lock you up?”

  “I worry about you. Have since the day we met.”

  “There’s no need.”

  “Why were you taking another statement from Scott?”

  Deep breath in, deep breath out. “His property was vandalized. I handled the call, and he spent the entire time ranting about being questioned a second time. By you.”

  “What’d they do?”

  “Trashed his front porch. Spray-painted the columns pink and coated the steps with dog doo.” Charity sipped at her coffee, hating herself for playing along. For not being able to bring herself to end the call. “He said he told you where he was Wednesday night. How’d you know he refused to provide an alibi?”

  “Idiot got himself kicked out of my father’s house after starting a fight with Justine. Guess he figured he needed to prove he was a badass.”

  “Yeah, well, I need to know where that badass was Wednesday night.”

  “And I need to be in on this case.”

  She dropped her forehead to the steering wheel. She got it. She did. He wanted to clear Drew’s name. Get back to Seattle. Get back to his life. She wanted all of that, too, even more than he did. She had an election to win. And so damned much to prove. Unfortunately, Grady was having an easier time of proving it.

  He was showing her up.

  “Why won’t people talk to me? Don’t they want Sarah’s killer found?” Suspicion bloomed. “You asked them not to talk to me, didn’t you?”

  “Right. Just to prove a point, I’m willing to let the killer who’s trying to frame my nephew go free, so I slogged door to door and advised all of Becker County not to talk to you.”

  Hilarious. “Where are you?”

  “The middle school. Drew and Matt needed out of the house, so we decided to kick some balls around.”

  “I like that idea.” She smiled when he made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. “I’ll be right there.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she was parked where she had a view of the field behind the school, feeling like a pervert as she watched Grady and Drew play keep-away with four boys all about the age of Grady’s son. She spotted Matt right away. The kid had skills, like his dad. She also spotted a number of parents on the sidelines and thought twice about confronting Grady in public. The last thing she needed was to fuel the gossip fire. Although considering what had happened the last time they were alone together, confronting him in private might prove just as flammable.

  Charity reached for her phone.

  “Not like you to avoid a fight,” he said when he answered.

  “Tell me what Scott Langford said to you.”

  He signaled for one of the boys to take his place. He turned to face the parking lot—to face her—and ambled to the edge of the field. “I’m not leaving town until Drew’s in the clear. You might as well let me help.”

  “You won’t be much help to anyone if you’ve been charged with obstruction or I’m thrown off the case.”

  He sighed. “What’ll it take?”

  “Won’t happen. You’re a West. And an ex-boyfriend. So tell me what I need to know.” Charity could feel the intensity of his gaze across the shamrock-green field.

  “Is there a boyfriend in the here and now?”

  She hated that she was tempted to tease him. “No.” She hated even more that his quiet exhale gave her a thrill. Hated most of all that she couldn’t leave it at that.

  “I don’t do long-term,” she said. “And short-term gets you labeled a slut.”

  “Your mother might have had something to do with that.”

  “My open bedroom door policy might have had something to do with that.”

  An inhale this time. Grady went rigid, then flicked his free hand in a fuck it gesture. He knew she was punishing him. “Scott was at a job interview. He wants out of the hospital and away from his in-laws. He’s smart enough to know if my parents find out, they’ll ruin him.”

  “Can he prove he was there?”

  “He gave me a number and asked that you be discreet.”

  Charity thumped the heel of her hand against the steering wheel. “He couldn’t give it to me this morning?”

  “He said he didn’t know whose side you were on.”

  “I’m on Sarah’s side.”

  “That’s what I told him.”

  One of the mothers, a slim blonde, all hair and legs, sidled up to Grady. He held up a finger, and she pouted prettily, arms under her chest, hair cascading over her shoulder as she tipped her head. He moved a few steps away.

  “One last thing,” Charity said.

  “Yes, I still wear boxers. Yes, the clingy kind.”

  A husky, feminine laugh. Charity scowled through the windshield. The blonde had followed Grady and was listening in. Talk about clingy. Charity started her Chevy.

/>   “Those two boys Matt’s hanging with? You don’t want to encourage them.”

  “Because you don’t want my son getting attached to Becker County?”

  “Because you don’t want your son getting involved with the wrong crowd. They’re troublemakers, Grady.”

  He went quiet, and she could see from the set of his shoulders that she’d said the wrong thing.

  “You know,” Grady said finally. “My parents once said the same thing about you. See you around, Deputy.” He disconnected and turned back to the blonde.

  Her cell rang. Numbly Charity answered, still watching Grady flirt with the blonde. A solemn-sounding Kate started apologizing before Charity could say “Hello.”

  “Please let me explain about this morning. I know I came across as bitter toward the West family, Justine included. There’s a reason for that. I mean, I was in a bad mood anyway because the bank turned me down for a home renovation loan, and how the hell am I supposed to afford a new roof without it? But that’s not what I called to tell you.” A clinking sounded on Kate’s end, followed by a gurgling rush—pouring herself a cup of coffee? Or something stronger? “When I was a senior in college, my mother was killed by a drunk driver. She worked her butt off to help pay my tuition then never got to see me graduate.”

  Well, damn. “I’m sorry, Kate. That must have been terrible.”

  “It was.” Kate swallowed audibly. “Anyway, I know a little bit about what you’re dealing with, with your family. I’d hate to see you continue the cycle by inviting even more addiction into your life by getting personally involved with the Wests. I know we’re not really friends, but we…we could be, couldn’t we?” She was weeping now. “I miss Sarah so much.”

  Charity propped her elbow on the door, rested her temple against her knuckles, and said a few consoling words. She wished she could feel more compassion than impatience. Unfortunately, she sucked at friendship pretty much the same way she sucked at the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing. She’d stopped hanging out with anyone but Brenda June. Her job led to too many last-minute cancellations—never a good thing when everyone was counting on you to be designated driver. Only Brenda June understood. The guys, too.

  But now Dix was leaving, and if Bloom won the election, Charity would be, too. The department, anyway. Which meant she wouldn’t only be out of a job, she’d be out of a social life.

  Not that it mattered. What mattered was the case.

  She tuned back in to Kate, who was saying Allison had decided on community college after graduation, instead of trying for Stanford. Not only did she want to avoid Drew, who’d been accepted to Stanford, but she wanted to stick close to home for a while. Quite a sacrifice for the teen to make, giving up her move to California. Then again, Allison was only a junior—she had a year to change her mind about being a lawyer. Kate seemed eager to talk about it, so after turning away from the Adventures of Grady and Soccer Barbie, Charity hunkered down to listen. She was in no hurry to get back to the station and start her report on Scott Langford’s poop-smeared porch.

  Except…Charity inhaled sharply, and scrambled upright. Kate’s voice faltered.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “You don’t want to be friends,” Charity said. “You want to know if I know you’re sleeping with Hampton West.”

  After a few awkward beats, Kate sighed. “How’d you find out?”

  “Hair samples from his shower drain. We haven’t ID’d them all, but considering you work together at the hospital, I should have figured it out sooner.”

  “It’s not for money, I can promise you that,” Kate snapped, then gentled her voice. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  “He’s your alibi, Kate, and vice versa. That information has to be part of the case file. At this point, it doesn’t need to go any further than that.”

  “I appreciate that, Charity. I-I have to go now.”

  “I’ll see you at the funeral.” But Charity was talking to dead air.

  So much for being besties.

  * * *

  Grady had looked forward to hanging out with Matt, Drew, and Peyton that night after dinner, maybe play some poker or team up for ping pong. Whatever it took to get his mind off a certain stubborn, badge-happy blonde. And all the things he’d like to do to her. Again and again and again—

  Dammit. He pushed away from his laptop and the underperforming stock portfolio he couldn’t care less about. He needed some air and wanted nothing more than to go for a good long run, despite the cold. In fact, he wouldn’t mind a little brain freeze so he could stop thinking about Charity.

  She’d meant to shock him. Scare him off, even, with her supposed promiscuity. But though she hadn’t been a virgin when they’d started dating, she’d been far from easy.

  Okay, yeah, he was jealous.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed to pound the pavement and jog these juvenile thoughts out of his head, but he wouldn’t saddle Drew with the responsibility of keeping an eye on Matt, who was in his room grudgingly catching up on reading for his English class, pissed at Grady for enrolling him in the local elementary school despite all his talk about staying in Montana.

  Grady’s father had gone back to the hospital to catch up on paperwork, and his mother was out with her Council for the Beautification of Becker County, on the hunt for something to beautify. She must have taken Justine with her. Peyton was holed up in her room on speakerphone with one of her friends while they watched a movie “together,” and her brother was…

  Grady frowned. He didn’t know what Drew was up to, but the kid had to be feeling neglected. He’d just gotten out of jail, for God’s sake. He’d disappeared after dinner, but maybe now Grady could talk him into an hour of lifting weights in the basement gym.

  It took him twenty minutes to track his nephew down. When he did, he didn’t know whether to yell or cry. What he did know was that he was one self-involved son of a bitch. Maybe he wasn’t so different from his father, after all.

  Soundlessly Grady walked across the darkened living room and dropped to his haunches. Drew was tucked into the corner, between the baby grand and a butt-ugly one-armed sofa. He sat with his back to the wall, legs spread, hands boneless in his lap as he stared down at the half-empty bottle of Scotch on the carpet between his thighs.

  Frustration burned the backs of Grady’s eyes. “Drew?”

  The teen raised a bloodshot, bleary gaze. “Don’t get it,” he mumbled, the thickness of his words making it clear he’d done more than stare at the bottle. “What’s the big deal?” He swept out a hand and would have toppled the Scotch if Grady hadn’t grabbed it.

  Grady had been around enough drunks to know now was not the time to ask questions. He helped the teen to his feet. “Time for bed, big guy.”

  “I feel sick,” Drew moaned. “Why’d anybody want to feel sick?”

  Shit. If Grady didn’t get them to a bathroom right the hell now, he’d be scooping puke off the carpet.

  “Dude,” choked Drew. He stumbled, and drove them into a wall.

  Grady winced as his shoulder smashed against the wood trim. He got them both upright again and steered them toward the bathroom.

  “I’m fucked up.” Drew raised a hand to his head. “Dizzy. Judas Priest. Why’s he give her pills? Who needs pills on top of this shit?”

  Grady froze. “What pills?”

  Drew frowned, concentrating, then his face went gray.

  Grady shoved the toilet seat upright and stepped back. “Let it out,” he said grimly. “Let it all out.”

  After the worst was over, Grady dispensed aspirin and water, tucked Drew into bed, and marched into Justine’s room. He slapped on the light to find his sister splayed out on her bed in a crumpled skirt and blouse.

  She pressed a palm to her eyes. “Time for dinner?” she asked groggily.

  “You slept through dinner,” Grady shouted.

  Her face crumpled, and she worked her eyelids as she struggled to push
herself upright. “Why are you yelling?”

  “Because while you were up here sleeping yourself sober, your son was downstairs getting drunk off his ass.”

  “Drew?” Justine staggered to her feet, brushing at the wrinkles in her clothes. “Is he okay?” When Grady didn’t answer, she raised her head. “Don’t look at me like that. This week has been…” She gave up on the wrinkles and jammed her feet into her shoes, holding on to the edge of the bureau for balance. “I could go to jail, you know. For making a false confession.”

  “Right. And that’s so much worse than going to jail for murder.” Her eyes appeared bruised, but he’d be damned if he’d apologize. “Show me the pills.”

  After confiscating four bottles of sedatives, Grady put Matt to bed, warned Justine to stay put, and slammed out of the house.

  When every other person in the hospital elevator eased back to hug the rear wall, leaving Grady alone in the front, he realized he’d better make an effort to smooth the rage from his face. Otherwise he’d find himself tranquilized and on his way to the psych ward.

  He walked off the elevator at a slow, deliberate pace, while his heart continued to punch an angry rhythm. Outside the door to his father’s office, Grady paused and worked air in and out of his lungs. Didn’t help. He pushed inside.

  The reception area was empty. He stalked past the plush leather seating, rounded the corner, and stopped when he saw his father had company. A trim strawberry blonde, looking like a vet’s assistant in aqua scrubs printed with mint-colored kittens, hovered at his father’s side. They were both standing behind his desk and frowning toward the doorway, no doubt finding it hard to believe anyone would dare disturb the great Hampton West at work.

  “Dad,” Grady bit out. “We need to talk.”

  While the red in his father’s cheeks deepened, something speculative flickered over the woman’s face. She tucked her hands in the front pockets of her smock and came around the desk, spotless white sneakers whispering across the carpet. She spoke to his father but kept her gaze on Grady’s face.