On the Prowl

by Kimberly Dean

  “That would be me, Mrs. Thorton. I’m Detective Kinkade.” He would have shaken her hand but her arms were still flailing about. He reached into his breast pocket for his notebook. This was going to be a long one; he could tell already. “So you’re missing a bracelet?”

  “Yes. Yes. How many times do I have to tell you people that?”

  A sharp pain rippled through Riley’s temple. Shrieking voices often did that to him. He didn’t have much patience tonight but he called on the small reserve he had left. “When did you notice that it was missing?”

  “Twenty minutes ago—approximately the time I reported it.” She let out a harrumph. “I was getting ready for bed. I put away the earrings I’d worn for our dinner party tonight and I noticed right away that my tigereye bracelet was gone. It’s an antique, you know.”

  The woman’s initial enthusiasm was cooling in the autumn air. She’d wrapped her robe more tightly around herself and was rubbing her feet together as if they were losing feeling. “Why don’t we take this discussion inside where it’s warmer?” he suggested.

  “Yes, why don’t we?” With a huff, she turned and stalked up her front steps. “As if I enjoy standing outdoors in my lingerie.”

  Riley sighed and caught a sympathetic look from one of the patrol guys. He shook his head. “Take a look around the house and the outskirts of the property.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m going in.”

  He mounted the front steps and entered the house. He found Mrs. Thorton sitting on a sofa by the fireplace. An older man who looked familiar was handing her a drink. “Mr. Thorton? I’m Detective Kinkade.”

  “Call me Roger,” the man said. He crossed the room and held out his hand. “I believe we spoke after the Harrington’s robbery. I’m sorry you had to be called out here at such a late hour.”

  That’s where he knew him from. Riley nodded and shook the man’s hand. He’d talked to so many people over the past few days, the names and faces were starting to blend. At least the old guy didn’t seem so bad. “It’s my job. Can you tell me what you know?”

  “Not much. I went to bed earlier than Lydia. I wasn’t aware that anything was wrong until she started screaming.” Roger rolled his eyes, showing how much he’d liked that.

  Riley glanced up from his notebook. The guy didn’t seem too concerned about this bracelet. “I take it that the jewelry is normally kept in the bedroom?”

  Lydia nodded. “In the jewelry box I bought on our honeymoon.”

  He looked at the husband. “You didn’t notice anything different about the room? Was anything out of place when you entered?”

  At this, Roger Thorton looked discomfited.

  “We have separate bedrooms,” he said. He raised one eyebrow as if that was explanation enough.

  It was.

  Riley kept his face stoic as he noted down the fact. He glanced toward Lydia Thorton again. She’d quieted down for the time being and seemed intent on inhaling her drink. He looked at her raised pinky and suddenly things clicked. The drunk, gold-sequined lady! Damn, he hadn’t recognized her without her makeup. These two had been at the Harrington shindig. He quietly filed the tidbit of information away.

  “Could you show me the bedroom?” he asked. “Our forensics team will be here shortly but I should cordon off the area where the burglary took place.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Roger said, suddenly acting uneasy. “Maybe I should speak with our lawyer first.”

  “Heavens to Betsy. You go right ahead, Kinnear,” Lydia said, nearly choking on a swig of brandy. “Do your little fingerprinting thingamabob.”

  “For God’s sake, Lydia. It’s Kinkade. How many drinks you have had tonight?”

  Great. There they went. Riley tucked away his notepad. How could he have forgotten these two? He signaled for a patrolman to back him up. Permission from one was enough for him. “It’s standard practice, Mr. Thorton. We’ll try not to disturb anything.”

  “But… You only have permission to search her room,” Roger called.

  “It’s at the end of the hall,” Lydia said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Riley was already halfway up the front steps. Hell, this was just how he wanted to spend his night. He’d probably be cooped up here for hours with Mr. and Mrs. Happycouple. Why was it when people had money, they acted like it was all stuck up their ass?

  He sighed. The biddy had been right about one thing, though. This was too much like the Harrington case for his liking. A swanky party. A missing trinket. Sounded like one of New Covington’s socialites had come down with a case of sticky fingers.

  At least he hoped that’s all it was.

  He’d just hit the second floor landing when he saw a flash of red at the other end of the hall. His muscles tensed and he reached for the gun at his hip. It wasn’t necessary. The figure was already gone. “Runner!” He yelled to his backup. “Going down the back staircase.”

  The patrolman turned on his heel and quickly headed down the stairs to try to cut the person off. Riley ran down the hallway at a full sprint. He took the stairs at the other end two at a time. He had to admit whomever he was chasing was good. They were swift and silent—excellent traits for a burglar.

  He leapt down the last four steps when he heard somebody fiddling with the lock on the back door. It was too dark to see. The moon was still hidden by the clouds and the lights from the living room didn’t extend back this far. Letting his ears guide him, he moved swiftly across the room and shoved the perpetrator up against the door. It slammed shut and a soft cry wafted through the darkness.

  “What the hell?” He’d caught a woman. If the voice hadn’t told him, the soft expanse of bare skin under his hands would have.

  The patrolman arrived from the opposite direction and turned on the lights. Riley blinked, but recognized the long-legged blonde immediately. He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. “Talia Sizemore.”

  Her eyes were big as saucers as she looked at him. Riley swore. “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t hurt her, Detective,” came a worried voice from over his shoulder. “Ms. Sizemore has been my…my guest for the evening.”

  It was then that Riley saw Talia’s rumpled clothes and her mussed hair. There was an unmistakable look of passion in her eyes and red dots colored her cheeks.

  Fuck!

  He felt as if he’d just been kicked in the gut. Suddenly, he didn’t give a crap about the missing bracelet. This was worse. She’d been here screwing the old man. The old man! Jesus!

  “Get in the living room,” he barked.

  “But…” she stammered.

  He caught her by the arm and pulled her away from the door. She was warm to the touch. Too warm. His fingers bit into her skin when he pictured how she must have been exerting herself. “You’re not going anywhere until we’ve had a little chat.”

  This put her in connection with both robberies. That was two robberies too many. He wanted an explanation.

  For everything.

  A sickly green color swam across her face. “Please, can’t we talk here?”

  It didn’t take him long to catch on. “The wife doesn’t know?”

  “No,” she said softly. Her eyelids dropped in embarrassment.

  Riley had a strong inclination to punch something. Anything. The wall would do fine. “Jesus, Talia.”

  “Talia? Did you say Talia? Is that bitch still here?”

  Riley gritted his teeth hard as a shrill voice rang into the room. This was just what he needed—a domestic disturbance thrown in for good measure. The paperwork tomorrow was going to be a real pain in the ass.

  Lydia Thorton pushed her way into the tiny mudroom. When she saw Talia standing at the door, she went off like Mount Vesuvius. “You,” she hissed. “You were the reason why Roger left the party so early.”

  She lurched forward and the patrolman caught her about the waist. She clawed at the air, trying to get at the younger woman. “I knew it! I’v
e always known. How long? How long have you been doing my husband?”

  “Mrs. Thorton,” Riley said, using a straight arm to keep her away. “Calm down. We need to talk about this.”

  “Calm down? That little tramp has been flaunting her body in front of my husband since she was a teenager and you want me to calm down?”

  She launched herself out of the patrolman’s arms and Riley did what only seemed natural. He pushed Talia behind him and planted himself in front of her. Mrs. Thorton’s claws came at him but he caught her by her wrists. Fury made her strong but he held her off until the patrolman could pull her away and into the other room.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Roger Thorton said agitatedly. He pushed his hands through his silver hair as he looked from one woman to the other.

  Riley wasn’t really in the mood for excuses. “Go after your wife.”

  The old man left with his shoulders drooping and Riley took a moment to calm himself. He hadn’t expected to walk in on a scene like this. It had him agitated and he could commiserate with Lydia more than he’d like to admit. His blood was pumping and the desire to rip into something was strong. He stilled, though, when he felt Talia clutching the back of his jacket like a safety raft. Her forehead rested against him as she took shuddering breaths.

  His gut twisted. As much as he tried to fight it, the need to protect her was still strong. Damn it, Kinkade. Don’t do it! He fought with himself for a moment longer but then finally turned. She gave up her hold on him reluctantly.

  He looked at her downturned face. Her pink cheeks were now scarlet red. She’d been caught dead-to-rights and the humiliation had her close to tears. It went against every grain in his body but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her. He ran a hand over her soft hair. It took two to put her in this position but she was the one taking the brunt of the backlash.

  “Can I go now?” she asked. “Please?”

  “No.”

  Her wobbling chin came up. He was prepared for the pleading look, though, and it bounced right off him.

  “You can’t leave,” he said. “I’ve got a robbery to investigate.”

  Suddenly that pissed him off more than anything. He pulled back, removing his hand from her hair. He’d come here to do his job—not get all entangled in an adultery mess. Damn it, what was she doing screwing that old geezer? “Get your ass into the living room,” he said flatly.

  She flinched. “Lydia… She won’t want me in there.”

  “Tough.” Talia looked away but Riley caught her chin and made her look at him. “Listen, the quicker you get in there and answer my questions, the quicker you can leave. I promise she won’t come after you. If she does, I’ll charge her with assault.”

  The assurance didn’t ease her nerves. Her white teeth worried her lower lip and he was again taken at how sensual she looked. Damn, but he hated seeing her fresh from another man’s bed. If anybody should be scared right now, it was Roger Thorton.

  “Come on,” he said. He started to wrap his arm around her shoulders, but stopped himself as soon as he touched her. Her shoulders were bare. The feel of her skin was too much for him to handle right now. He jerked his hand away and pointed the way instead.

  He led her into the living room and guided her to an overstuffed chair as far away from Lydia Thorton as he could get. The old biddy’s glare cut across the room like a knife. He purposely ignored it. Emotions were ricocheting about the room but he needed answers regarding the theft. It was the reason he’d been called here.

  He had to remember that.

  “Mrs. Thorton, you said you hosted a dinner party tonight.” He schooled his features and reached for his notes again. By the book. He had to do this by the book. “Who attended?”

  She glowered at Talia. “The Harringtons, Edward Jones, Ramona Gellar and this whore.”

  The response was inflammatory. It made the muscles at the back of his neck clench but he promptly moved on to another question. His purpose was twofold. One, he had to keep control of the situation. Two, he wanted to get Talia out of this house as soon as he could. There was no need to draw out her degradation and he wanted to talk to her. One-on-one. The best way to do that was to work quickly and efficiently.

  “When did your guests leave?” he asked. “In what order?”

  Petulantly, Lydia answered.

  “Do you have any pictures of the missing jewelry? Was anything else missing?”

  As hard as he was concentrating, he still made sure to take good notes. His brain wasn’t as centered as he’d normally like it. He ignored Talia as much as the questions didn’t pertain to her but it was difficult. She seemed to have the attention of everybody in the room —including the patrolmen.

  That red dress was like some sort of neon sign. Hell, if she moved wrong, her breasts were going to pop out. He knew that’s what everyone was waiting for.

  At least, he knew he was.

  The lead of his pencil snapped and he cursed. He borrowed another one and continued. Finally, the only questions he had left were for her. He took a deep breath before diving in.

  “You were invited to the dinner party?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “What time did you leave?”

  “Around ten o’clock.”

  “When did you come back?”

  “About a half hour later.”

  “Why?”

  She paused. “To see Roger.”

  The answer burned a hole in Riley’s gut. His voice was curt as he got more personal. “Was this a planned interlude?”

  Again, she hesitated. “No, I surprised him.”

  Wonderful. He’d been having dreams about her surprising him but she was running around town, popping into this old fart’s bedroom. The guy’s teeth probably weren’t even his own. “How did you get into the house without anybody noticing?” he asked, his voice suddenly gruff.

  “I came in the back door.”

  “Wasn’t it locked?”

  “I had a key.”

  “She has a key?” Lydia shrieked. “To my house?”

  “No,” Talia said quickly. She stared down at her tightly clasped hands in her lap. “I grew up with Felicia Thorton. I know where the spare key is kept.”

  “So you surprised Mr. Thorton in his bedroom,” Riley said, his head starting to pound. Damn it all to hell. “Did you stop by Mrs. Thorton’s bedroom along the way?”

  “No, and I don’t appreciate the implication.”

  Apparently she wasn’t offended enough to look him in the eye. His frustration with her escalated. He wanted to shake her up, make her notice him. “Did you see anybody else on the second floor?”

  “No.”

  “Did you hear anything?”

  “I don’t remember anything unusual.”

  Probably too busy. Riley felt like he was going to be sick. Mr. Geriatric sticking it to a gorgeous babe like her was what he called “unusual”.

  He shook his head. He got the distinct impression she was lying but he didn’t know why. She was embarrassed; everybody in the room knew that. Still, the shake in her voice and the timidity of her gaze could be due to something else entirely.

  Like larceny.

  He tucked his notebook back into his pocket. “Would you stand, Ms. Sizemore? I need to search you.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Roger Thorton said hurriedly. “She’s got nothing on her.”

  If the guy had been standing anywhere close, Riley would have decked him. Instead, he fixed his best don’t-mess-with-me glare on the bastard. “I’ll do my job as I see fit, Mr. Thorton. Now, Ms. Sizemore, if you’d please.”

  She stood slowly, but said nothing.

  “Lift your arms to the side,” he ordered. The words were hard to say with the way his jaw was clenched. “Now just stand still.”

  He patted her down as quickly and impersonally as he could but there wasn’t anything impersonal about it. He was laying his hands on her, but under the most constrained of situa
tions. He’d have given just about anything to spend a few more seconds weighing her breasts or feeling the curve of her tight waist.

  And those legs. God, those legs were going to be the death of him.

  “Turn around.”

  To anyone watching, he behaved like the professional he was. Only he and she knew, though, the few extra seconds he spent cupping her bottom. It was just so damn perfect, he couldn’t help himself. Turning her slightly so the room couldn’t see, he finished the last part of the search. Slipping his hand between her legs, he cupped her mound.

  She made a soft, surprised sound and he felt her dampness start seeping through the material. Son of a bitch! He pulled back as if burned. He hoped he was treating her to a small measure of the torment she was giving him.

  “This is all your jewelry?” he asked as he grasped her hands.

  She looked blindly over his shoulder, her face a fine shade of crimson. “Yes.”

  “That cheap crap certainly isn’t mine,” Lydia Thorton hissed.

  “How much do you estimate your bracelet was worth, Mrs. Thorton?” Riley said, letting her words roll off his back. “Have you had it appraised?”

  “It’s worth $2,500 if it’s worth a penny.”

  Riley just nodded. He’d grown accustomed to rich snobs’ indifference to the value of money. He looked at Talia again and caught the lifting of her chin. Now, that was surprising. He wasn’t sure but he could have sworn that she agreed with him.

  But she was a Sizemore. From all accounts, she was set for life.

  Remembering her briefcase, Riley became uneasy. “I need to see the contents of your purse.”

  She looked at him and, for a moment, he thought she’d refuse.

  “Of course,” she said. “I have nothing to hide.”

  She sat back down in her chair. With a defiant look, she reached for her purse and opened the clasp. The effect was ruined when they both saw the red panties inside. The desire to hit something came over Riley again and he turned away from the sight. Running a hand through his hair, he got hold of himself. When he turned back, he saw that she’d tucked the panties in the chair beside her hip.

  “Don’t you get any of your stinky cum on my furniture,” Lydia griped. Her words were getting slurred as she drank more and more brandy.