by Deborah Camp
“Stop! S-s-s-stop!” She giggled and wiggled until he took mercy on her. His face waffled before her and she blinked away the wetness in her eyes from laughing. “You’re in a very good mood this evening, Mr. Wolfe.”
“That’s because of you, Miss Tucker.” He dropped a kiss on her lips and lifted one hand to smooth her bangs to one side. “You’re achingly cute. Did you know that?”
“Achingly cute.” She pursed her lips. “Is that a good thing?”
“Yes. When I look at you, my heart beats faster and my cock swells.”
She slapped his shoulder playfully. “Go ahead and ruin it.”
“What?” he asked, all innocent.
“You could have stopped with your heart beating faster.”
“But I can’t stop this.” He rubbed the hardening part of him against her hipbone. “It just happens. Every time I see you or touch you or even think about you.” He nuzzled behind her ear, sending a current of longing through her. “You have me on lock-down.”
She smiled as she ran her hands up and down his sides, loving the feel of his taut, warm skin and the muscles underneath. “And I’m keeping the key so that you can’t escape.”
His expression was serious, his eyes searching and beseeching all at once. “Why would I escape? You’re my happiness. My hope. My salvation.”
God, when he talked like that! She held his face in her hands and raised her head up to kiss him. He tasted of peppermint, sweet as sin. “And you’re mine, Levi,” she assured him, feeling his love as keenly as if it were knitted into her heart and soul. Sighing, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close. Hers. Yes, he was hers. Silly of her to even worry about someone like Sissy Sex Fiend Franklin being alone with him.
Silly.
Really stupid.
Still, she didn’t trust that conniving bitch.
###
With the taping of the television show behind him, Levi sat in Sissy Franklin’s private production office and accepted the Scotch and soda she offered him.
“As usual, you rocked it,” Sissy said, touching his glass with hers. “Sounds like one sick puppy you’re after. I’m glad he’s in New Orleans and not here in Atlanta.”
He tasted the drink. It was too strong. Sissy always made them too strong. “You’ll let me know if any interesting calls come in?”
“Don’t I always?” She sat on the sofa beside him. “So, how are things?”
“Great. Busy.” He shrugged. “You know.”
“I used to know. You’ve become a stranger lately.”
He made a face of denial as he took another tentative sip of the drink. The liquor burned a path down the center of his chest. “Like I said. I’ve been busy. So have you. I hear you have a book coming out in a few months?”
“Sure do. It’s called ‘Frankly Franklin’. Catchy, huh?”
He grinned and held up his glass. “Here’s to a bestseller.”
She clinked glasses, took another sip, and then slipped her arm along the back of the white leather sofa. Curling her legs up under her, her skirt rode up, exposing most of her thighs. “When are you going back?”
“To New Orleans? Tonight. I’ve booked a private jet. We leave at six.” He glanced at his watch. Three-thirty. His phone vibrated in his inner jacket pocket and he shifted a little away from Sissy. “Excuse me a sec.” Trudy’s smiling face filled the phone screen. It was a photo he’d taken of her at Christmas. He’d wrapped tinsel around her neck and stuck a gold bow in her red hair, making her his favorite present of all time. She had texted him. He tapped the icon with his thumb and another photo snapped into view. Her lips, pursed, blowing him a kiss.
Miss you already. I’m shopping. Call me when you’re through. I need to hear you.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, feeling Sissy’s steady stare.
“Is Trudy checking on you?”
He shifted his gaze sideways to her. “Who are you seeing now? Are you still playing around with that bank CEO? Didn’t I read that he’s finally divorced?”
“Yeah, but I’m not interested. He’s delusional. Can you believe it? He asked me if I’d like to cook dinner for him. Me!”
He almost choked on the sip of liquor he’d taken.
“Exactly. I told him I hired people to do that sort of thing.” She dipped a finger into her drink and painted her lower lip with the liquid, her eyes languid and suggestive. “Nobody understands me like you do.”
He eyed her. “If that’s true, then you’re an enigma.”
“You know what I like and how I like it.” Someone rapped on the door and she rolled her eyes. “Who is it?”
“It’s Carl, Sissy. We need your jewelry.”
Sighing dramatically, she set her drink on the table. “Hold tight, Levi. This stuff I’m wearing is borrowed.” She ran her fingertips across the chunky gold necklace studded with diamonds. The overhead lights struck the big, oval-shaped emerald on her ring finger. “Got to give it back to the Brinks driver.”
“Sure. Go ahead.” His phone vibrated again as Sissy left the office. He pulled it from his pocket. A Trudy text.
Bought two dresses you’ll approve of. Heading back to the hotel to follow your orders and look for nearby victim relatives. You’re so bossy!
He texted: You love it. Especially when you’re naked. See you soon.
She texted back immediately. But not soon enough!
He smiled and put the phone away again. She was texting mostly because he was with Sissy. He knew how she felt toward Sissy and she had good reasons for those feelings. Sissy was a sexual predator. Once she got her claws in you, she didn’t want to let go.
Sissy swept back into the room, minus the flashy jewelry, and sat on the sofa again – closer to him this time. Her flowery perfume enveloped him. Up close, he noticed that she was wearing more concealer than she used to at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Knowing Sissy, she’d be scheduling cosmetic surgery soon. She hated needles, so Botox injections weren’t something she’d tolerate for long. Dragging her coral fingernails along his shoulder, she pursed her lips into a sultry pout.
“I miss you, hon. Don’t you miss me – even a little?” Her southern accent dredged each word through powdered sugar.
He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “I’m not playing this game, Sissy.” He put down his drink and would have risen to his feet if she hadn’t clamped her hand on his bicep.
“Don’t run away, for Chrisssake! Jesus, you are so touchy these days. What’s with you? I can’t tease you a little, after what we’ve done together – what we’ve meant to each other?” She glanced around the office. “You realize that you’ve fucked me on every surface around us? The desk – many times – this sofa, the chairs, the credenza, and every available wall space. Then we have the bathroom. The sink, the shower, the toilet, on top of the waste can.”
Through her recounting, he stared straight ahead, wishing that her trip down memory lane didn’t trigger one steamy scene after another. He couldn’t argue the point. She was right. This office had been their romper room.
“But now you sit here all tense and scowling.” She curved her fingers under his chin and pulled his face around to her. Her brown eyes latched onto his mouth while her other hand slid up his thigh. “Those lips and that tongue have been everywhere—.”
“What are you doing?” he interrupted her, moving his chin out of her grasp. “I’ve told you that I have someone special and that the sexual relationship between us is over. So, why are you doing this? It’s beneath you.”
She winced and snatched her hand off his leg. “Well, fuck you, too, cowboy.” With a flounce, she wiggled into the corner of the sofa and glared at him. “You used to be fun before you became a damned monk.”
He stood up. “I should go.”
“Does she know what a whore dog you were before you met her?”
“Yes. Trudy knows.”
“And she’s okay with that? She actually believes th
at you’ll remain a loyal puppy to her even though no one else who knows you believes it for one second?”
He jerked at his cuffs, agitated more by his reaction to her remarks than by the remarks themselves. That she could make him doubt himself even a little and pierce his heart with her words rattled him. “Not everyone shares your poor opinion of me, Sissy.”
Shooting up to her feet, she gripped the lapels of his suit coat. “Levi, I’m in your corner. I like you just the way you are. I don’t want you to change. I understand you and you understand me. That’s what’s so beautiful about us. We don’t have to pretend, right? We love sex. Hot, hard, ram into me until it hurts, old-fashioned rutting. Nothing wrong with that. Getting off in a messy, grunting, screaming climax releases all our demons, remember?”
He did remember and that’s what sickened him a little. Clamping his hands on hers, he stripped them off him and stepped around her. “I want to be your friend. If that’s not good enough for you and I’m forced to go through his bullshit every time we’re together, then let’s end it right here.” He paused at the door, his hand on the knob, and looked back at her, waiting for her answer.
Slowly, she turned around to face him and anger glittered in her eyes even though she managed to smile. “We’re not ending, Levi. I am your friend and you’re going to need me someday and I’ll be here for you.”
She had an iron will and thick skin, which made her good at her job but hell to handle. He used to like that about her. Tussling with her, trying to dominate her, getting rough with her had been stimulating and challenging. He couldn’t exactly say when that had changed for him, but he knew that Trudy was at the heart of it. With a shrug, he opened the door. “Thanks, Sissy. Keep in touch.”
“Oh, I will.” Her laughter mocked him, scoffed at him, and he didn’t care.
Chapter 8
Brigit and Tim Moffet’s house was in LaFayette, just a couple of hours drive from New Orleans. When Levi had arrived back in New Orleans and Trudy had presented him with a list of three names of victims who had lived near the city, he’d selected the first one and called the couple. They’d agreed to talk to them about their daughter, so Levi had made an appointment for the next day.
As he parked the Mercedes in front of the brick home on a street that looked like any other middle class neighborhood in the south, Trudy felt her heart give a little jerk. Anna Moffet had run away from this place. She’d hit the road the day after she’d graduated from high school with no job in sight. Why was this place so terrible?
“I wonder if her parents were really strict.”
“Hmmm?” Levi hummed beside her.
“Brigit and Tim. Maybe they were strict and Anna wanted to get out from under their rules. That’s why she ran away.”
“Or maybe she wanted to keep doing drugs and screwing her dealer and they weren’t down with that.”
Trudy gave a wince of concession. “Well, yeah. It could have been that, too.” Leave it to Mister Moody Blues to go to the dark side!
“Let’s allow them to tell us who, when, why, where, and what the fuck.” He slipped the key from the ignition and sent her a questioning glance. “Ready?”
“Are you? This will be your big show. Not mine.”
“I’m ready.” He swung out of the car and walked confidently around to her side, all CEO businessman in his tailored suit. He opened the door, and extended his hand to her as usual. “Watch and listen. There will be a quiz later.”
She smiled. “Yes, sir.” Linking fingers with his, she walked beside him along the sidewalk and up the steps to the small front porch. A big brass mailbox beside the lacquered black door had the house number etched into it along with The Moffets. “This appears to be the place.” She rang the bell and listened to the bing-bong sound on the other side followed by the squeaking of tennis shoes on a tile or marble floor.
A short, blond woman dressed in jeans and a black sweatshirt with a big gold fleur-de-lis on it opened the door. Her brown eyes widened a little when she looked from Trudy to Levi. Yes, ma’am, he’s a handsome devil, isn’t he? Trudy gave Levi’s hand a little squeeze before letting go.
“Mrs. Moffet? Hi. I’m Trudy Tucker and this is Levi Wolfe.”
“Oh, hi.” She shook hands with them and then pointed at Levi. “I recognize you from television. I’ve seen you on a bunch of things. Sissy Franklin’s show, the Tonight Show, and Dr. Phil. I love it when you’re on Dr. Phil. I mean, he doesn’t even believe in psychics, but he books you on his show all the time!” She stepped back. “Well, come on in. You have any trouble finding the place?”
“No, not at all.” Levi motioned for Trudy to go first. “Thank you for seeing us, Mrs. Moffet.”
“Oh, hey, call me Brigit. Tim!” She looked down a hall that ran beside a staircase. “They’re here!” Turning back to them, she said, “He’s brewing a pot of coffee. Y’all like coffee?”
“We do,” Levi assured her.
“Good. Let’s go on into the living room.” She entered the room to the left and motioned toward a green and red plaid sofa as she moved to one of the dark green leather recliners. “Have a seat, please. It’s just so surreal to have you in my living room. I mean, actually in it instead of just being on there.” She nodded at the television screen mounted above the fireplace.
Although the woman’s conversation was casual and her smile was pleasant, Trudy sensed the nervousness fluttering underneath. She was undoubtedly anxious and probably had been since Levi’s phone call. Couldn’t blame her. She might be nattering on about Levi’s notoriety, but she was surely more interested in what she might learn about her daughter’s murder.
A broad-shouldered blond man carrying a tray entered the room. He, too, was dressed casually in a New Orleans Saints t-shirt and jeans. He set the tray on the coffee table. “Hi. I’m Tim Moffet.” He shook Trudy’s hand, then Levi’s. “Who wants a cup of this?”
“I’ll take one,” Trudy said, and Levi nodded.
“Y’all have any trouble finding our place?” Tim asked, echoing his wife’s earlier ice-cutter.
“No.” Levi waited for Trudy to settle on the couch before he sat next to her. “We both take cream and no sugar, please.”
“Are you two married?” Brigit asked.
“Not quite.” Trudy raised her left hand. “Engaged.”
“Congratulations!” Tim handed Trudy a cup of coffee. “Set a date yet?”
“No.” Trudy accepted the cup and saucer. “Thank you.”
“Take a cookie,” Brigit said, indicating the plate of them on the tray. “Tim’s mother made them yesterday. She lives with us now. They’re oatmeal chocolate chip.”
“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.” Trudy selected one of the large cookies that was generously studded with chocolate. She wasn’t surprised when Levi helped himself, too. He loved cookies of all kinds. Especially with milk, but he’d make do with coffee. “I know this can’t be easy for you, so we’re very grateful that you’re taking time to help us.”
“We want Anna’s killer caught and convicted.” Tim handed his wife a cup and gave her a wink of encouragement. “It’s been hell for both of us. When they found her body . . . well, it wasn’t a total surprise, but it didn’t make this any easier for us.” He sat in the other recliner. “So, how does this work? You want to touch something Anna wore or owned?”
“Yes.” Levi swallowed the bite of cookie in his mouth before continuing. “You mentioned that your mother lives here now. Did she take Anna’s old room?”
“No.” The cup clattered in the saucer Brigit held and she set it on the side table. “She’s in our son’s old room. We haven’t done anything to Anna’s room.” Her deep sigh lifted her narrow shoulders and then let them drop. “I don’t know what to do with it all . . . keep some of it? Donate her clothes to a charity? I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to do anything, hon. Not until you’re ready.” Tim sent her another wink; obviously his signal of spousal support.
“Understandable,” Levi said. “I’d like to see her room, if I could impose on you in that way. I can get in touch with her much easier surrounded by her things. What I hope to do is to channel her and have her show me what happened to her. What she saw could help us identify her assailant.”
Tim studied Levi as if he were a math problem and then he looked at his wife. Something passed between them – something only they could decipher. Tim nodded. Brigit stirred.
“Her room’s upstairs. You want to go now?”
“Let them finish their coffee and cookies, hon.” Tim rested his ankle across his knee. His blond hair was cut short and thinning on top. “How long have y’all been working on this?”
“Only a few days,” Levi said. “We’ve touched base with the New Orleans police.”
“Bonifay and Dupree?” Tim asked, smiling faintly, getting a nod from Levi and Trudy. “Yeah. We’ve talked to them several times. Anna was one of the first ones they identified. When we couldn’t get in touch with her – she wasn’t answering our phone calls and texts – we put out fliers and sent e-mails to all the police stations. Had her picture on them and her personal statistics. They matched her remains with that information and DNA confirmed it was her.”
“She left home four years ago?” Trudy asked.
“Right out of high school,” Tim confirmed. “We paid her phone bill every month so we’d have a way to contact her. And that worked for a year or so. It might take her a day or two to call us back or text us, but she always did. Then, suddenly, nothing. Days and weeks went by and nothing. We knew then that something had happened to her.”
“Did she have a job in New Orleans?” Trudy knew the answer, but she wanted more than just a negative response. “A boyfriend or girlfriend there?”
Tim’s face seemed to gray. He grew older before her eyes. “Probably, but she never told us much of anything. Before she left us, she kept threatening, saying she was breaking out of here and hitting the road. She liked it fine here until her junior year and then it was like a switch was flipped. She hated everything – school, her friends, this house, us.” His gaze found his wife for only a moment as if he didn’t want to see what might be reflected in her eyes or on her face. “I thought it was a rebellious streak that would play itself out. It didn’t. She left and never came back. Not for her birthday. Not for Thanksgiving. Not for Christmas. We even sent her a bus ticket that first Christmas she was away. Didn’t do any good. She told us that she had things going on and couldn’t get away.”