by Vella Day
In order to effectively analyze the scene, he couldn’t have his leg pain distract him, so Dax stretched his thigh before making any sudden moves. As he headed toward Jessie, a whiff of rancid garbage made his nose wrinkle.
She must have smelled it too, because she rushed over to the dumpster and peered around it. She bent over and moved something. She then stalked off to the far end of the building before striding back.
With her hands planted on her hips and her feet wide, her gaze continued to sweep the area. “What the hell?” she said to no one in particular, looking like a spitfire ready to explode.
Dax reached the dumpster a second later. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. The body’s not here.” The expression on her face said, Don’t mess with this woman.
The wind picked up and some of her pretty brown curls escaped her ponytail and framed her face. Her comment finally sunk in. “Missing? Are you sure?” Dax waved a hand. “Maybe the sheriff was merely unconscious when Brad found him and your boss woke up and walked away.”
A hint of hope flashed across her face. “Do you think that’s what happened?”
“It’s possible.”
She looked down the alley, her breathing heavy.
He tried another option. “Could this have been some kind of hoax to lure you out here?”
A cool breeze shot around the corner, and Jessie pulled her jacket tighter before crossing her arms. “No. Brad would never be part of something so cruel.”
“Would anyone want to keep you away from your house to get to your grandmother?” He was grasping at straws, but occasionally he hit upon the truth.
She looked at him as if he had two heads. “No one would want to harm the sweetest eighty-year old in town. Besides, everyone knows she can handle a shotgun better than any man I know.”
Dax didn’t picture Margaret being a modern day Annie Oakley, but he’d been wrong before about people, and arguing with Jessie didn’t seem like it would do any good, anyway.
A second later she stomped past him and ripped open the back door to the bar. Fearing she’d get into trouble, he followed her. The bar smelled musty and damp, like the place had been closed for months, but Brad was there, carrying a case of beer to the bar.
“Where’s Clinton?” she demanded. Given the man was less than ten feet away, she shouted louder than necessary. No hello or how are you handling finding a dead man?
Brad slammed the case on the counter and faced her. “That’s what I’d like to know. I went to your place as soon as I saw the sheriff. When I returned, he was gone. I called your house, but your grandmother told me you were headed over here.”
Keeping his gaze on Brad, Dax stepped up next to Jessie. “Can you show us where you found the body? There might be some evidence we can process.” He kept his voice low and calm, hoping to diffuse the tense situation.
Brad wiped his hands on his dirty apron and headed out, flicking on the light that shone above the back door. He led them to the dumpster and pointed to the tarp. “He was right here, so help me God.” He held up a palm.
Using his foot, Dax slid the canvas cover to the side then crouched down to examine the crime scene. Damn, he needed his flashlight. “Hold on a sec.”
He rushed to his vehicle, and a moment later returned with a light in hand. Square foot by square foot, he searched for evidence.
“You see anything?” Jessie asked, her voice shaky.
Was she anxious about him doing the CSU work or just hopeful they’d find a clue to DuPree’s disappearance? “Excluding the empty beer cans and leftover food, all I see is what looks like blood on the back wall. If it is, I’m betting it belongs to the sheriff and not the killer.” He looked back over his shoulder. “You have any kind of crime scene kit around?”
“What do you need?”
He appreciated that she was willing to cooperate. “A high resolution camera for starters, and some swabs to take a blood sample.”
Her back straightened. “The department has a digital camera, but I can’t say it’s real high resolution. We’re a small town, Mr. Mitchell. We haven’t had a major investigation in a long time.” Her voice rose with each word.
“Hey, I was just asking.” He shot her a brief smile, but it wasn’t returned.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m upset, that’s all. I’ll gather what we have.”
Dax nodded, appreciating how much it must have taken on her part to cooperate.
Drag marks indicated the sheriff might have been moved, convincing him the victim hadn’t walked away.
In no time, Jessie returned. “This is all we have.” She sounded more apologetic than mad as she waved the small digital camera. “And here are the swabs and vials.”
“Excellent.”
She cleared her throat. “How about I take the photos while you gather the evidence?” She finally gave him a half smile, and the change in his pulse rate had to be the excitement of the hunt and not due to his stupid libido. Jesse was cute, but hardly the type to want someone like him.
“Perfect.”
She snapped away. “I didn’t think private investigators did criminal work. How do you know about this stuff?”
“It’s a long story.”
The crunch of gravel caught their attention, and Jessie whipped around. A station wagon, age indeterminate, rolled to a stop. Given gawkers would only contaminate the scene, he needed her to shoe them away. “Can you tell them this is a crime scene?”
“It’s the Medical Examiner, but I’ll tell him there’s nothing to examine.”
Chapter 3
Dax sat in a back booth of The Sugar Shack and warmed his hands on a cup of hot mocha deluxe coffee. He inhaled the pungent smell and waited for that relaxing coffee-calm, but it never came. He hoped like hell he’d get lucky today and learn what had happened to Sadie Palmer. He had wanted to be back in Baltimore, but now that the cop in him had become involved in the sheriff’s case, he’d be sticking around. Having Jessie Nash to look at was an added bonus. Too bad, the sexy deputy hadn’t shown any interest in him, which meant he probably should look the other way.
Why she of all people had piqued his interest he didn’t know. In the past, he never went for the hard-to-get type—and she was as hard to get as Maryland crab cakes in the dead of winter.
It was only a matter of time before she pointed a finger at him. Her beloved sheriff was reported dead a few hours after he’d arrived in a town that hadn’t seen a homicide in forever. Though with all the new construction nearby, there were tons of new people about, and any one of them could have had a run in with the sheriff and gone too far.
If by some chance Jessie did ask for his continued help, he couldn’t turn her down since he had offered. He should get out of Kerry as soon as possible, but it wasn’t like he had anything else lined up back at home.
A soft wind chime sounded above The Sugar Shack’s door. He looked up, thankful for the distraction. From his vantage point in the back, he could keep watch over who came and went. Two construction workers barreled in, one dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, sporting a big gut and a bigger laugh, while the second man, who was in his mid twenties, looked fit. He must have told a whopper of a joke, one that Dax wished he’d have heard, as he sure could use a good laugh right about now.
He leaned back against the padded cushion, and as he waited impatiently for Margaret and her two lady friends to arrive, he tapped the spoon on the edge of his cup until the guy in the next booth shushed him. Dax checked his watch, wondering once more what was taking them so long.
Because Margaret and her friends were the last to see Sadie alive, he wanted to ask them a few questions before their memories rooted in and took a turn straight toward some alien spaceship.
Jeez, what kind of case had he taken on?
The bell above the door chimed again, and his gaze shot toward the entrance to find Ms. Jessie herself striding in. Even though she was still dre
ssed in those drab pants and that bulky shirt, she looked good.
He tossed the spoon down in disgust, needing to get a grip. He was here to do a job and nothing more.
With a hand on her hip, she scanned the restaurant. Dax was about to raise his hand to get her attention when she spotted him, nodded without smiling, and headed straight for the opposite side of the restaurant.
Given they were unofficially working together, he’d expected at least a wave. Then again, this was business. Maybe she was meeting someone to get more information about Clinton DuPree’s death and didn’t need him butting in. He had come on a little strong in the alley behind the bar, but that was because he was best suited to process the crime scene.
A waitress walked by his table carrying a tray full of wonderful smelling French Fries and a juicy hamburger, making his stomach grumble, but he decided to eat after he spoke with the ladies.
The door opened again, and this time Margaret and her two friends strolled in. She spotted Dax immediately, waved, and headed toward his booth. Shoulders back, Margaret seemed to concentrate on making sure she didn’t lose her balance as she wove around the tables. Bless her soul, Jessie’s grandmother looked so much like his Granny it wasn’t funny.
The short woman next to her was as frail as a winter snowflake, and the third woman was six feet if she was an inch and looked like she’d spent her life enjoying her own home cooked meals—a real Julia Childs look-a-alike.
“Howdy, Dax.” Margaret sat next to him and patted his hand like a child, while her two friends slipped in across from him.
It was nice to see a friendly face for a change, but holy shit, one of the three old-timers must have lost her alien-loving sense of smell. His eyes watered from the overwhelming scent of perfume, but a quick sip of coffee saved him from coughing.
Margaret introduced her friends. Both women seemed fully functioning in the brain department, which was a good start, but he wondered if they shared Margaret’s enthusiasm for aliens.
His waitress, Lena, came over, pen and pad in hand, looking frazzled. “Hi, Margaret, Eleanor, Mary Alice. What can I get you ladies today?”
They looked at each other, then back at Lena. In unison, they answered, “The usual.”
Lena nodded then glanced back at Dax. “You need a refill, darling? Or a fresh pastry?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” As soon as Lena left, Dax swirled the coffee in his cup. “I appreciate you ladies meeting with me on a Saturday morning.”
“Our pleasure,” Eleanor said with a broad smile.
She ran her fingers over her necklace in a slow, seductive manner. Dear God, the woman was seventy-five if she was a day, but if he wasn’t mistaken, she was flirting with him.
Mary Alice, the short, frail lady, wore too much makeup, but at least she didn’t look at him like she wanted to eat him for dessert. The frown on her face made him wonder if he’d get much out of her. As if she could read his mind, she raised her hand.
“Yes?” Dax asked.
“It’s not fair,” she announced with authority.
He’d play her game. “What’s not fair, Mary Alice?” That her friend hadn’t shown up in days?
“They took Sadie, and I wanted to be the one.” Mary Alice glanced at Margaret then at Eleanor.
“Excuse me?” he asked. Mary Alice might be battier than Margaret.
“Don’t you know anything about alien technology? They do sexual experiments on humans, and I wanted to see what it was like to be taken, probed, and experimented on. They return you in one piece without harm, or so I’ve read.” Her lips pinched together as she folded her arms over her chest.
Dax didn’t know how to respond. Half of him wanted to burst out laughing, and the other half wanted someone to beam him out of there. He realized a little too late that he should have insisted on going with Jessie this morning instead of meeting with these ladies, but to be fair, Margaret had hired him to find Sadie, so here he was.
Time to bring the topic back into the real world. “I’d like to know where you women were when you saw these magical lights Margaret reported to the sheriff.”
Margaret raised a brow at the word magical then cleared her throat. “We were on my front porch when we seen the lights, which were clear as day. The mine is only a mile away. We built our house nearby because my dear husband, Charley,” she sniffed when she said his name, “used to own the Nash mines. When he died three years ago, I had to sell the business to Robert Catchman.” Her lips turned into a sneer. “That crook ran the business into the ground and did it on purpose to spite Charley’s memory. How he benefited, I don’t know.”
“Margaret,” Eleanor chided. “The lights? Tell him about the lights.”
“Oh, right. Of course.” She turned back to Dax. “As I started to say, we seen these lights near the mine and wondered what was going on. Normally, it’s black as coal in my part of town, so lights are something of a curiosity. The four of us drove out there, waited in the car, and watched.” She folded her hands on her lap as though she was finished with her explanation.
“And?” Dax prompted.
“Well, the lights started moving every which direction for about ten minutes then disappeared.”
“So you didn’t see a ship descend or anything?” Not that Dax expected her to say yes, but with these women, nothing would surprise him.
“No, only the lights.”
At least she wasn’t totally senile. Dax took a sip of his now cool coffee. “Where was Sadie when all this was going on?”
Mary Alice leaned forward. “She was with us the whole time, that is until she decided to have a look-see for herself.” From her expression, he could tell she didn’t approve.
The women had told him Sadie had come home safe that night. “Go on.”
Eleanor placed a hand on Mary Alice’s arm. Guess she wanted to be the one to finish the story. “Sadie couldn’t help herself.” She shot a glare at Mary Alice, who then tossed Eleanor a disgusted look. “Sadie got out of the car against our wishes and made her way closer to the mine, but we kept our headlights trained on her. That’s when she found the spectacles the aliens wore.”
Dax didn’t know whether to tell them the goggles were military issue, but he then decided it wouldn’t do any good to disillusion them.
“None of you saw Sadie again after that night?” he asked.
They all shook their heads.
“Ladies, Sheriff DuPree implied Sadie might have gone off on a cruise or traveled across the country.”
“Not without telling us,” Margaret said sharply.
“So what’s your theory about what happened to Sadie?” he said to no one in particular. Please don’t say aliens took her.
Mary Alice slapped the table. “We already told you. The aliens took her.”
Right—the sexually oriented aliens. He had finished off his coffee just as Lena came over with another freshly brewed pot, along with some tea. She dropped off the drinks as the ladies began speculating about Sadie, acting as though he was some invisible alien.
Fine by him. He listened with one ear while his gaze wandered over to where Jessie sat. She was facing him and he’d never seen her look so happy, and an emotion he refused to identify warmed his belly. Dax quickly shifted his attention to Jessie’s booth mate.
A broad-shouldered man in a leather jacket sat across from her. Jessie laughed and leaned forward, not acting like the stiff, professional woman she’d presented to him. From the way she was tilting her head, she was flirting with the man, and Dax’s fingers clasped the cup tighter. Her interaction wasn’t like any interrogation he’d ever seen. No, this was personal.
“So what’s your next move, Mr. Mitchell?” Eleanor asked, jerking him out of his fantasy viewing.
He straightened and refocused his attention back to the ladies. “If she had been taken by the aliens, there’s not much I can do. If she wasn’t, then I’ll have to investigate. Margaret said Sadie was a seamstress. I’ll see if I can get a
list of her clients and ask if any of them saw her the day she disappeared.”
Eleanor sipped her tea and made a face. She dumped in a ton of sugar, stirred some more, and sipped again. “Much better. Mr. Mitchell, the person Sadie last worked for was Roberta Barton. Sadie was making curtains for her. I’d start with her if I were you,” Eleanor said.
“Thanks.” He made a note in his cell.
They seemed convinced he could find this Roberta woman without any more help from them and began chatting. While he sipped on his coffee and mentally mapped out his next move, Dax watched Jessie. He didn’t need to be subtle as the woman paid him no mind.
No question about it. Jessie knew this man and liked him too. The guy could be a boyfriend, yet Dax didn’t remember her mentioning she was dating anyone. Then again, he hadn’t been there long enough for her to tell him anything about her personal life.
Who was he kidding? If he stayed a year, the highly professional Jessie Nash wouldn’t tell him squat. She looked up and caught him staring, and just like that her smile disappeared.
He sank back against his seat. Now she probably thought he was some kind of creep. “Excuse me, ladies. I have work to do.” He opened his wallet, whipped out a five-dollar bill, and dropped the money on the table. His empty stomach be damned.
As he stalked out, Dax could almost feel Jessie’s gaze bore a hole right through him. Christ. He hoped he hadn’t messed things up too badly with all his glances.
Jessie didn’t know how to react to Dax’s less than friendly stare. He’d seemed nice enough when they first met, but she’d never asked Nana how she found him. Knowing her grandmother, Nana might have seen an ad and believed his tales of greatness.
Jessie planned to run Dax Mitchell through the National Criminal Database to see if he had a record, and she could only hope he wasn’t some criminal who’d come to take advantage of Nana. Dax had suggested someone might have lured Jessie out of the house to harm her grandmother, but surely he wasn’t thinking of doing that. They had no money and nothing worth taking. And to think he’d spent the night under their roof, where anything could have happened. Of course, nothing did, but that was beside the point.