Finding Peace: Baytown Boys

by Maryann Jordan

  James leaned back, a hand on his heart, “Good God, no! Despite what you might think, our party was not some kind of college, frat-boy orgy! I drove to her place and we had a good time. Kissed her goodbye a little before two in the morning and drove back home.”

  “Did anyone see you when you got in?”

  “No, but Ben’s door was closed so, I assumed he was already in bed.”

  Ginny pinched her lips together, listening to his flimsy alibi. Grant showed James the list from Ben of the men who had attended the party and James confirmed.

  “Can you tell me what this is about?” James asked, angling his ball cap to keep the sun out of his eyes.

  “A woman was attacked in the early hours of the morning. We’re following up on anyone reported to have been out in the area,” Ginny said.

  “Damn,” James cursed. He looked to the side where the cheerleaders were practicing and said, “I’ve been toying with the idea of working with some of the girls about physical safety and protection. You know, things we often wait until college to even talk about. I figured these teenage girls could use some tips.” He looked back to Ginny and smiled. “Would you be interested in helping?”

  A tight-lipped smile formed on her face as she, non-committedly, said, “If you get it started, let me know and I’ll see.”

  As Ginny and Grant made it back to the SUV, he turned and said, “That’s kind of like putting the cat in charge of the bird cage, isn’t it?”

  “No kidding,” she said, climbing inside.

  “Would you really work with him?”

  “I might need to, if for no other reason, to see what he’d actually teach the girls,” she replied, sucking in a deep breath to relieve the sinking feeling rushing into her stomach.

  The sinking feeling had now turned into acid as Ginny faced Silas. She and Mitch had walked to his office and he had made them wait in the Town Hall lobby for fifteen minutes after the receptionist had told him they were there.

  Now, sitting in the chairs facing his desk, his glare heavy on them, Ginny felt her anger slicing through her gut once more.

  Mitch, cutting to the chase, said, “We need to know where you were last night.”

  Silas’ eyes widened slightly before narrowing. “You have got to be kidding.”

  “Not at all. We’re talking to everyone who was reported to be in the area of the park late last night. You’re name was reported. So, I’ll ask again. Where were you and I’ll go ahead and throw in the next questions—what time and who did you see?”

  “I don’t have to answer any questions,” he replied, his nose in the air, and Ginny was reminded that Jillian had referred to him as a weasel. She always thought it was because of his personality, but now she realized it was his physical appearance also. She remained quiet, knowing Silas would only respond to Mitch, because he was the Chief, but also because he was a man. The thought only mildly irritated her—she trusted Mitch to handle Silas but she also itched to spar with him. Re-focusing, she watched with interest as Mitch’s silence began to unnerve Silas.

  “As town manager, I—”

  “You know that no one is above the law,” Mitch interjected.

  “Don’t try to intimidate me, Chief.”

  The sarcastic emphasis on Mitch’s title did not go unnoticed by her but appeared to be completely ignored by Mitch.

  “Silas,” he continued, “I’ve got a sexual assault case on my hands and you, of all people, must want it solved as soon as possible. The news is now on it and every step we take is being watched. You think, for one minute, that the person who reported that you were seen out last night in the vicinity of the park, will stay quiet. Answer me now and this can end. I can report that we followed up on all sightings and determined they were not who we are looking for. The alternative is that reporter from Virginia Beach, the one you’re always cozying up to when she’s in the area, will be reporting on you.”

  The more Mitch spoke, the more Silas’ lips pinched together. His gaze jumped from Mitch, to her, and then back to Mitch. The silence stretched interminably, but she knew Mitch was patient. They could wait.

  Finally, Silas leaned back in his chair, anger vibrating from his being. His pen tapping on the desk, he said, “Fine. I was out. I was visiting a friend. I didn’t want my car to be seen in front of he—uh, their house, and so I parked several blocks away. I…visited, and then walked back to my car.”

  “Time?”

  Pinching his lips again, he replied, “About one in the morning.”

  “Did you see or hear anything while you were walking by the park?”

  “No. Certainly not. When I heard there was an attack, I was horrified. Don’t you think that if I knew something, I would have come forward?”

  “No, I don’t. But then, that’s why we’re here.”

  “Listen, I don’t have to put up with your insinuations.” He reached for his phone, adding, “In fact, I think I’ll phone my attorney.”

  “No problem,” Mitch said. “By the way, who were you with last night, so we can corroborate the times?”

  Silas’ hand stilled on his phone, his fingers slowly pulling back. “Who?”

  “Yes, we need to verify your story and the times.”

  Ginny noticed the slight shaking of his hands as well as the pitch of his voice, which was rising. Silas leaned forward, baring his teeth, and she could now say without a doubt that he was indeed a weasel in every sense of the word.

  “How dare you not take my word,” he seethed.

  Mitch sighed as though talking with a recalcitrant child. “Silas, I want to put this to rest. You think I want to be chasing false threads to this investigation? Hell, I want to get this over with so that I can continue finding the person responsible.”

  Ginny kept her gaze straight ahead but was surprised at Mitch’s words. At this stage, Silas was still a suspect, but Mitch was acting as though he believed Silas was innocent. Before she had time to process this further, she noted Silas seemed to relax slightly and she understood. Mitch was a master interrogator. Right now, he was playing good cop which, she realized, made her bad cop. And that thought had her struggling to hide her smile.

  Silas’ gaze jumped between the two of them and he leaned toward Mitch slightly. “I was…uh…with a woman.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Mitch acknowledged, a slight smile on his face. “I know you’ve been dating Holly Prescall. Congratulations. In fact, I heard that y’all are picking out china already. We’ll just check with Holly and—”

  “It wasn’t Holly,” Silas admitted, his words forced between gritted teeth.

  Sighing again, Mitch said, “We’re gonna need a name, Silas.”

  The silence once more hung heavy over the office.

  “Celia.”

  Ginny managed to keep her face neutral, hoping the widening of her eyes had gone unnoticed.

  “Celia Ring…your receptionist?”

  “Yes,” he bit out.

  “Okay, we’ll talk to Celia on our way out.” With that, Mitch stood and, with a nod toward Silas, he stepped to the side, allowing Ginny to walk out in front of him.

  Celia was sitting at her desk just outside the mayor’s office and her eyes hit them as soon as they moved toward her. Casting her eyes toward Mitch, she purred, “Hello, Chief Evans,” ignoring Ginny. “Do you want to see Corwin?”

  Ginny knew the town talked about Celia when Corwin first hired his secretary. But she also knew Phyllis controlled the family money and Corwin would not chance an affair. But Silas, the weasel? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mitch stand back and she knew that was her cue to step in.

  “Celia, we need to corroborate a story from last night and early this morning.” Celia’s cat-like smile dropped from her face as her eyes cut over to Silas’ office door, firmly shut.

  “Uh…I…uh…”

  “We need to know who you were with, what time they arrived, and when they left.”

  “Uh..I…”

&nb
sp; “We are investigating an assault in the park, Celia. After reporting your concerns, I know you want to do anything you can to assist us in checking on the reports of people in the area.”

  Celia’s eyes flashed irritation mixed with resignation. “Yes…sure, yes. Silas Mills came by last night about eleven. We had…uh…business to discuss. Business that was…couldn’t wait.”

  “And he left at what time?”

  “About one…one this morning.”

  Thanking her, Ginny and Mitch turned to walk away when they noticed the mayor’s door slightly open with Corwin standing at the opening, listening. Continuing to walk through the back corridor that led to the police station, neither spoke until they were back in their workroom, once more staring at their board.

  22

  Now, parked in front of her house, her legs too tired to move, Ginny leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes, thoughts of the day’s interviews overwhelming her.

  The sound of her door opening next to her caused her to yelp as Brogan leaned across her, unbuckling her seatbelt. His large frame filled the space and before she could protest, he reached in and pulled her gently out, cradling her against his chest as he carried her toward her front door. Throwing her arms around his neck, she protested feebly, “I can walk, you know? All my neighbors are going to think that you always carry me into my house.” She felt his chest rumble against her and she could not help but smile. “Of course, this is a more dignified way to be carried than over your shoulder like last night. God, that seems like days ago.”

  As they entered, he kicked the door shut, bending to flip the deadbolt. “Right,” he said, “and that’s why I’m taking care of you now.”

  Brogan stalked straight to her bedroom and, bypassing the bed, marched into the bathroom. He discovered the former owners had indeed combined two small bedrooms, to create a nice master-bedroom suite. The bathroom was well appointed, with white tile and a full, soaker tub and shower. The toilet and linen closet were behind a door, offering privacy, and the long counter held double sinks.

  He settled her feet on the plush floor mat, while he bent to turn on the water spigots. Hot, steaming water filled the tub quickly and he spied a box labeled bath bombs setting on the side of the tub. He picked it up and sniffed, the floral scent filling his nostrils. Throwing in a few, they immediately began to bubble and fizz, causing him to do a double-take, making sure it was okay.

  Giggling, Ginny looked over at his surprised expression. “Did you even know what bath bombs were before you threw them in?”

  Blushing slightly, he shook his head. “No, but anything with the name bath on it and, smells like flowers, must be good.” Turning back to her, he began to strip her, pushing her hands out of the way. “This is all on me, babe.” Peeling her polo and then bra off, he bent to slide her pants and panties down.

  She held on to his broad shoulders as she stepped out of them, shivering as his hands trailed slowly up her legs.

  “Damn, you’re a temptation, but this is not about me and definitely not about sex.”

  Ginny peered down at him as he continued to kneel on the mat. “Then what is it about?” Her head lifted as he stood and she maintained eye contact, his Irish blues staring straight into her.

  “This is about me taking care of my woman. Sounds caveman-ish, I know, but it’s been a rough twenty-four hours for you. Come on,” he said, offering his hand.

  Taking it, he wrapped his warm hand carefully around her, and she allowed herself to be pampered, an unusual feeling, as she stepped into the tub and sank into the watery depths. Moaning as she laid back, she closed her eyes as her head hit the bath pillow.

  Brogan sat on the floor next to the tub and stared at her for a long moment. He could not believe this woman was with him. This beautiful, kind, strong, caring woman. He had given everything to her—his painful past, his anger and guilt, and she had taken it all, telling him to let go of his demons. Unsure if he could, he knew he would cherish her, as long as she allowed him to.

  Her slightly tanned face held a few freckles captive across her cheeks and nose. Her shiny, straight hair was still in its bun, tamed as always when she was in uniform. He wanted it to fall about her shoulders but figured that, for now, being up kept it dry. Her eyes were closed and a crescent of thick lashes rested on her upper cheeks. Her mouth, with its slash of pale lipstick, was lush and moist, slightly open as she breathed. Her arms floated on top of the water and as his gaze drifted, her rosy-tipped breasts were barely visibly, but he already had their shape and feel memorized.

  Her eyes opened as she rolled her head toward him. “This feels so good. Why don’t you join me?”

  “If I do, then I’ll—”

  “Yep, and that’s exactly what I want,” she grinned. “A hot bath and some hot sex…perfect sleep recipe.”

  Grinning, he stood, jerking off his shirt. “Well, I aim to please, ma’am.”

  As he crawled into the tub behind her, she laughed when the water moved higher. Soon, forgetting about the water level, she allowed him to take the worries of the day away.

  Ears open, Brogan listened as the man at the end of the bar continued to talk.

  “Yep, nice little town you got here. I come a couple a’ times a year. Once a year, I’ll bring my wife, but the other times, I tell her I’m on a business trip and escape here to do a little fishin’. ‘Course with the women around here, I don’t tell my wife what I’m fishin’ for.”

  He laughed at his own joke and Brogan pinched his lips tighter, wishing the man would leave.

  “Yes, indeed. This little ol’ town’s got some mighty fine ass. Teens in bikinis with their pert little tits all up and high. Older women with asses that are big and firm. I keep looking for a woman with pert tits and a big ass, but—”

  “You drinking or talking?” Brogan interrupted.

  The man blinked a few times, then looked down at his empty drink. “Sorry, man. I’ll take another. Fill ‘er up.” Snorting, he said, “That reminds me of a joke. What did the gas attendant say to the wh—”

  “Shut the fuck up, man,” Brogan said, moving away from him, disgusted. He glanced down at the credit card in his hand, making a note of the name, realizing that a vacationer could easily be the culprit the police were looking for. Martin Tobaski. Nodding toward Aiden, he headed to the back. Placing a quick call to Ginny, he could not keep the grin off his face when she answered with, “Hey, honey. What’s up?”

  Giving her the name, he said, “Just a thought that your culprit doesn’t have to live here, and this guy says he comes several times a year to get away from his wife. He’s been talking and, while I’m battling the desire to punch the fucker’s mouth, I’ve heard him, and he’s been observing, in great detail, the women while here.”

  “Thanks, honey. You’re in a position to hear a lot so I’ll take whatever intel you have.”

  Disconnecting, he heard a commotion and walked out just in time to see Aiden showing Martin to the door, with several angry customers around. Stalking to the front, one of the servers caught him by the arm.

  “I’m sorry, Brogan. Please don’t fire me. I really need this job.”

  He looked down at the young woman and asked, “What the fuck happened?”

  “That man has been making crude comments to me when I pass and then he slapped me on the ass and said that if my boobs were bigger he’d show me what he could do with them.” Ashley’s face was bright red, but she held her body steady as she peered up into Brogan’s angry face.

  “That fucker—”

  “Don’t worry, Bro, I took care of him,” Aiden said, walking over to offer Ashley a hug. “Go on home, darlin’. We’ve got it and you’ll get paid for a full shift.”

  “It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I know I can face this kind of thing when working in a bar.”

  “Not in our bar,” Brogan said. “Aiden’s right. Take the evening off and take care of yourself.”

  She smiled her thanks and hea
ded to the back, leaving both MacFarlane brothers standing in the middle of their bar, fists on their hips, anger pouring off them.

  Early, the next morning, Ginny’s phone rang again. Answering, she rubbed her eyes as she stared at the clock. 4 a.m. Grunting, she said, “Be right there.”

  Turning around, she watched as Brogan sat up in bed, his naked chest holding her attention as she tried to focus. She had more sleep than the previous night, but her body still felt sluggish. Staring at the muscles and tats as he twisted around to look at her, she knew her body craved his more than sleep.

  His sleep rough voice rumbled, “Babe, you don’t get enough shut-eye.”

  Her eyes focused on his face and, ignoring his observation, she asked, “Doesn’t Ashley Tabor work at the pub?”

  Brogan stared, his mouth tight as his stomach flip-flopped. “Yeah,” he replied. “Why?”

  Leaning forward, Ginny placed her hand on his arm, sympathy in her eyes as she answered, “Oh, honey, I’m sorry, but she was attacked tonight.”

  Another long day. Another day where the Baytown Police Department had all hands on deck as they worked the cases, desperate to find the man before he struck again.

  Ginny stared at her fifth cup of coffee setting on the table as her stomach burned. Rubbing her sternum, Sam looked over.

  “You got an ulcer?”

  Shrugging, she dropped her hand, determined to plow through more of the intelligence. Since Ashley lived in a house just over the town line and officially in the North Herron County district, they now had the full support of the Sheriff’s Department, since that crime was in their jurisdiction. The added deputies were needed and several of them were now at the station, reviewing the evidence in front of them.

  Ginny had spent another few hours with Ashley at the hospital, grateful that she also had not been raped, but this assault occurred in her home. The assailant had forced her on her stomach also, feeling her up as he jacked-off on her back.

  She had looked at the background of Martin Tobaski, who had conveniently left town, then she accompanied one of the North Herron Deputies to Virginia Beach to question him about his whereabouts the night before. He had not been pleased to have the police show up at his doorstep.