"I went to Las Vegas with Lloyd. He lives there, but comes to the reservation to see friends here. We tooled around the city for a while and then he brought me home."
"When was this?"
He thought about that for a moment. "Last Tuesday."
The day before the robbery. "Billy...Lloyd had some legal problems. He'd gotten in trouble with the law in the past. Did you know about that?"
Billy nodded, looking a little sheepish. "Yeah, but he can--was--cool to party with sometimes."
Drake would never understand how a kid as messed up as Lloyd Canto could appeal to a young man like Billy Warwick, but it was common enough. "Did he mention his plan to rob the Gas N Gulp?"
"No way!" He re-considered the idea. "I don't think he'd have said anything to me, anyway. I've only known him for a few months. He borrowed some money from me on Tuesday. I won't be getting it back, I guess."
"Probably not. Did you guys do drugs together?"
"I don't do drugs. Lloyd might, but I wouldn't have gotten into a car with him if I thought he was DUI."
Drake nodded. "That's smart. What about his other friends? Did anyone else go along with you to Las Vegas?"
"No. Just Lloyd and me."
"Did you find that strange?"
"Not really. I figured we were just buddies and were spending time together."
"Right. Did anyone see you together on Tuesday?"
"Sure. My dad."
"Okay." His story seemed plausible enough. Drake would have to confirm with Billy's father. "Where were you on Wednesday morning?"
"You mean in the morning when the robbery happened?"
"Yeah."
"I was here at home doing chores. I have batting practice in the mornings, so I do my chores early."
"You're on the Falcons?"
"Yeah. I'm a rookie, but I'm hoping that I'll get a college scholarship if I'm good enough. They say scouts from University of Arizona and UNLV come to watch the games a lot."
"How do you like going to the community college?"
"It's okay. It's hard to juggle everything, but I'm doing okay."
"Good for you. Did anyone see you doing your chores on Wednesday morning?"
Billy considered the question. "Yeah. My mom was up baking pies or cookies or something for the church bake sale. There was one last Wednesday night after Mass."
"Okay." Drake added Billy's mother to the list of people he'd have to question."Thanks, Billy. You know I need to confirm this stuff with your parents."
The young man nodded. "Yeah, it figures."
"Is your Dad at home?"
It turned out that Billy's dad was doing a local errand at the feed store, but Drake took that time to ask Billy's mother to corroborate his story. By the time they'd finished their civil conversation, Billy's dad was back and proved willing to answer Drake's questions. Both parents confirmed Billy's alibi, and Drake had no reason not to believe them. His gut instinct was telling him that Billy had dodged the bullet with regard to his new friend Lloyd Canto. He could have gotten caught up in the excitement of being with the more worldly man and found himself way over his head. Fortunately, that didn't appear to have happened.
Next on his list was his cousin. He hoped that Lindy had an iron-clad alibi, too.
The Oldman home was humble, but relatively large. It sat on a broad lot, where a few cacti had been artfully placed. There were three cars in the front yard, two up on cinderblocks. When Drake got out of his police vehicle, he could feel the eyes of neighbors peering out of their curtained windows. The smell of a leaky septic tank greeted him.
The screen door was ajar, and the front door was wide open, but Drake knocked politely on the doorframe. "Aunt Mary Ellen? Uncle Richard?" He waited and he could hear children playing out in the backyard; he didn't hear any adults. "Hello?"
"I'm comin'." The gruff reply was slightly slurred, but Drake recognized his uncle's voice.
"Uncle Richard! It's Drake Stillwater."
"Hmph. Come in. Don't make me hafta la-di-da hol' the door open for ya."
Drake could see the man's frown even in the room's shadows. He took a few steps in and offered his hand to his uncle, his mother's sister's husband. He was about 15 years older than Drake, but looked much more than that. As they shook hands, Drake noted the swelling of the other man's fingers and the broken capillaries in his face. Richard rocked a little on his feet, unsteady.
"So here you are. Your aunt is at work. What do you want?"
Drake smiled his least threatening smile. "I came to see Lindy. Is she at home?"
A loud fly buzzed past Drake's head.
Richard turned and stumbled his way into an old recliner, picking up a can of beer as he sat. "That slut hasn't been home in days. She's prob'ly holed up with one of her boyfrien's."
It was Drake's turn to frown. Richard had been unemployed as long as Drake had known him, but his Aunt Mary Ellen worked part-time at the local elementary school as a school lunch aid. Both were registered Paiutes, but Richard's features were more Caucasian than Indian. They lived off the tribal stipend every family received from mineral rights, tobacco sales, and casino revenues. But their children, all six of them, deserved better than this drunken jerk who didn't care about their feelings or their safety.
"When did you see her last, Uncle Richard?"
"I dunno." He waved his hand. "Maybe a week ago?"
That would have been just before the robbery attempt. "Do you know where she might be?"
"No idea, and I don't give a damn. I washed my hands of that girl when she was fifteen and tried ta kill herself. That fuckin' cost me money 'cause he mother missed work tendin' ta her. Her mother's the only reason I let her stick around."
"Do you know the names of any of her friends?"
"She used ta run with Littlebird Braggart, but that was last year, I think. Haven't seen her around for a while." He finished his beer and crushed the can. "Too bad, 'cause she was a cute li'l thing."
Drake wanted to put his fist in the other man's leering face, but he kept his temper. "Anyone else?"
"There was a man come 'round lookin' for her." The sound of his hand raking over his three day stubble was grating on Drake's nerves. He wanted nothing so much as to leave, to breathe some fresh air and get away from the fetid stench of the man.
"What was the man's name, do you remember?"
"I don't go trackin' all the little whore's stupid frien's. What the fuck are you lookin' for Lindy for anyway?"
"I need to ask her some questions. Does she have a cell phone?"
"I guess so."
Drake counted to ten and tried to think calming thoughts despite his uncle's uncooperative attitude. "Do you know the number?"
"No, I don't. But her mother prob'ly has it writ down on the kitchen phone book."
"Can you get it please?"
"Get it yourself." He waved toward the back of the house.
Drake nodded and quickly went into the kitchen. There was a gingham-covered telephone book next to the phone, and Lindy's number was in it. He went back to the living room to finish with his uncle.
He put his hat back on his head and pulled a business card out of his pocket. "Here's my card. If she comes home, tell her to call me, please."
"Yeah, sure. Questions, huh? This have ta do with the drugs?"
Drake paused by the door and turned back into the room. "Drugs?"
"Yeah. She's always hopped up on something. Makes her jumpy-like."
"But you don't know what it is."
The older man shook his head. "Nope. Her mother searched her room once, but couldn't find nothin'."
"Alright, Uncle Richard." He reached out for the handle of the screen and pushed the door open. "Give my best to Aunt Mary Ellen."
"Yeah." He waved unsteadily. "So long."
When Drake got back to the police station, he called an all-points bulletin in to the county sheriff's office, the Paiute reservation's BIA safety office, the Las Vegas police depart
ment, and the state highway patrol. Hopefully, Lindy hadn't run to Las Vegas to lose herself among all the tourists and shysters. In any case, they'd be looking for her.
* * *
It was with reluctance that Drake phoned Mae. It had been four days since their encounter in the nursery shed, and Drake still thought about every detail: the soft heat of her bottom as he swatted it, her soft moans and gasps, the smell of her excitement, and the look of her closely-trimmed pussy in the shadows as she shimmied out of her panties. The scene replayed in his head over and over. He wanted to do it again, wanted to take it further and bury his aching cock in her sweet flesh, but doing that would be opening a Pandora's box.
When she answered her cell, his heart beat harder and his predatory instinct kicked in. Just the sound of her voice was enough to bring on a lusty reaction.
"Hey, Mae. It's Drake Stillwater."
"Drake! Is this business or pleasure?"
Pleasure would have been his preference, but he answered, "Business."
"Oh. Okay." She sounded disappointed. Maybe she wanted more, too.
"I need you to come to the police station. I have a recording I'd like you to listen to."
"A recording?"
"Yeah. It's Li--a possible suspect for the other robber. There's a voice recording, and I was hoping you might recognize the voice."
"I'm pretty good with voices. So, yeah, I might be able ta do that. A few years ago I was able ta identify barks from a variety of dogs. I mean, I had ta say what kind of dog it was. It was some sort of audio trivia game. And, I'm going on again, aren't I? When do you want me ta come by?"
"After work? I know you're minding the store right now."
"Yeah, I have day shift, but I get off at four. Would four-thirty be okay?"
"Yes. I'll be here."
They rang off. Drake put the phone down and sat with his head in his hands for a minute. How was he going to see her without touching her? Without making her smile that gorgeous smile? How was he going to listen to her talk without wanting her to whisper his name?
* * *
The afternoon had been taken up by a drunk and disorderly complaint and some coordination of cases with the BIA security office on the reservation. When four-thirty came around, Drake was tired and tense. The idea of meeting with Mae excited him and filled him with dread.
He heard her car on the blacktop outside, took a deep breath and came out of his office to greet her. No one else was in the station; they were alone.
"Hi, Chief." She offered a hug, but he held out his hand. If he held her, he might not be able to let go. As it was, he felt an electric bolt through his body when she returned his handshake. She looked a little puzzled, and her eyes roamed the little station, then turned back to him with a silent question.
"Yes, we're alone."
"Oh." She flipped back a lock of red curls and smiled gently. "So..."
Drake took his eyes off her face and tried not to give her a once-over. She wore a little summer sundress with a bright floral pattern. She was adorable and sexy, both.
"Right," he said, finding his voice. "Come into my office."
She followed him and sat in a chair across from his desk. He admired her slender, smooth legs as she crossed them at the ankles primly.
"Well, let's get right to it. I have a voice recording--the greeting from a person's cell phone--and I'm wondering if you can tell me if the voice sounds like the second robber."
"I'll try. I didn't sleep well last night. Nightmares about the robbery. I can't guarantee that I'll be much help. But I'll give it my best shot. I don't mean shot, what I mean to say was--"
"I understand."
"I want to help. Go ahead."
"Good enough." He pressed a few buttons on his computer and the greeting played from his desktop speakers.
"Hello. I'm on the phone or away for a little while. You c'n call my parents' house if it's important, or leave a message and I'll return your call when I can. Sending me a text is quicker, though, so you ought to try that first."
Mae bit her lower lip.
"What do you think?"
"Play it again, please?"
He did, and felt his body stir as she closed her eyes and concentrated on the voice from his computer.
"I think that's the voice. But, it sounds like a girl. I mean, when the robbery happened, I just assumed that both of the robbers were men. Maybe that was stupid of me. And the robber was upset, so he...I mean she...spoke faster." She looked down at her skirt, then back up into Drake's eyes.
He could bathe in the violet-blue purity of her eyes.
"I do think that's the smaller robber."
Drake found himself clutching a pen tightly. It had been too much to hope for. Lindy was likely the second robber. Now what was he going to do? He'd have to arrest his own cousin.
"Is something wrong?"
"No," he prevaricated. "That's all I needed."
"Did you find out who Lloyd was?"
"Yeah. He was a petty criminal with ties to both the reservation and to Las Vegas."
"Oh. I wonder what made him decide ta rob my store."
"Probably looking for drug money. There is some implication that drugs were involved, but I have to wait for the toxicology report, and that could be another few days."
"Nothing goes fast except trouble, right?"
He nodded.
She hesitated. "Drake, I've been thinking about what we did in the shed."
He didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to remember it with her right there in the room, but obsessed as he was, all he could do was focus on her pretty little pout and imagine kissing her. It seemed best not to encourage her musings by responding.
"Anyway, once this case is over, maybe you and I could...what I mean ta say is...I'm really attracted ta you and--"
He held a hand up. "Stop. We shouldn't go there."
"Don't you feel anything for me?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "Yes. Yes, I do."
"Then what's the problem?" She got up and came 'round his desk to lean next to him. When she put her hand on his arm, his dick reacted as though she'd touched him there.
"You know what the problem is."
Bending toward him, she touched his face. "Please?"
Her lips were so close, her body sweetly perfumed and warm. "Mae. If we begin this, we can't just drop it later. I don't want a one-night stand with you."
"That's not what I want either."
"Close the door."
Her eyes roamed his face, then she rose and did as he asked.
He opened his arms and she hurried over and wrapped her arms around his waist, tilting her head back as he pressed his lips against hers.
Her mouth was soft, her breath sweet and fragrant with peppermint. She responded to him shyly, which touched him because she'd been so bold with him up to that point. Had it been an effort for her to bravely coax him?
His instincts about people were usually accurate and she didn't seem like the slutty type. He didn't feel used or like he was a temporary interest. Certainly, he didn't think his feelings for her were short-term.
He deepened their kiss and curled his hands in her hair, tilting her head to the side to merge their tongues more perfectly. She moaned softly and raked her colorful fingernails down his back. They didn't hurt through his uniform, but they did give him a way to gauge her arousal.
Drake tenderly ended their kiss in order to graze his teeth and tongue down the fair column of her neck. The sundress left the juncture of her neck and shoulder bare, and he bit down on the muscle there, coaxing another moan from her.
Her hands moved up and down his flanks as he slid his palms over her bare arms and then cupped her breasts. He found her nipples with his thumbs; they were hard and swollen with interest. He needed to feel the soft skin of her breasts against his palms, so he slid the shoulder straps of her dress down and lowered the bodice until her breasts were free.
She hummed her approval an
d he felt her eyes on him, the heat of her arousal like blue flames in her gaze.
Her breasts were firm, high, neither too big nor too small. His hands looked copper-bronze against her very fair skin--skin that was silky-smooth, warm, slightly flushed. Her nipples were prominent, areolas ruched and violet-pink. "You're beautiful," he told her.
When he took one of her nipples in his mouth, she sighed and pressed forward toward him. He tasted her, and took her offering eagerly.
After a few minutes of licking and nipping at her perfect nipples, he unzipped her dress and helped it drop to the floor. Just as the time in the shed, she wore modest, bikini panties, this time pink. He found them to be far more sexy than a lace thong. They gave her innocence and wholesomeness. But, at the same time, he wanted them gone. He wanted her naked and squirming in his arms.
When her hand went to the hard bulge in his pants, he allowed her to rub for a bit, enjoying the feeling of her hand cupping and kneading. Although he wanted to free his dick and press it into her flesh, he wanted to draw out the moment. It took only moments to slide her panties down and off her ankles.
He swatted her bare bottom and she squeaked. When she pressed her breasts against his chest, he swatted her again. She wriggled against his palm as he cupped her ass. He started a rhythm of spanks, covering her behind with heat. She mewled and gasped, hiding her face against his uniform shirt and pressing her rear back into the whacks. He spanked harder and she began to sob.
Drake moved his hands to her face, cupping it and tilting it up so he could see her reaction. "Okay, sweetheart?"
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she smiled a watery smile. "More."
"Put your hands on the desk."
Immediately, she turned and bent, offering up her reddened behind. Drake removed his belt, doubled it over, and holding the buckle in his hand, wrapped all but a foot of the doubled-over belt in his fist. When he snapped it against her ass, she cried out.
"Hush now, or I'll stop."
"No, don't stop."
He could smell her arousal, and caught the gleam of a pussy tear running down her inner thigh. He wanted to take her. He would take her.
From her knees to the generous curve of her ass, Drake plied his belt. Stripes formed and then became muted red patches. Swats to her sit spots had her up on her toes, and her moans and sobs were constant. When he had a uniform red everywhere, he put the belt down and ran his hand over her hot flesh. She gasped.
The Strong, Silent Type Page 4