Tactical Pursuit

by Lynette Mae

  “Your concern is touching,” Devon said. “However, Jess is working tonight, so there is no reason for me to go home. Anyway, we’re getting close on this, Kelse. I can feel it.”

  “Are you two living together now?” Kelsey leaned casually against the doorframe.

  Devon set the folder in her hand on the table and considered the question. “Not officially.”

  “You haven’t asked her or you don’t want to take that step?”

  “I haven’t asked.” Devon frowned. Was Jessie waiting for her to ask? Things had moved along naturally, at least from her perspective. Now she wondered. “Do you think I have to ask her formally? I mean, to me she’s as good as moved in.”

  “Women don’t want to have to guess, knucklehead. Jeeze, don’t you get it? Does she know you want her there permanently?”

  “How could she not know?”

  Kelsey rolled her eyes. “Devon, Devon, Devon. It’s your house. Of course she’s waiting for you to say something. I’ve gotta fly. Big plans tonight. Don’t work too late, my friend. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  Devon stared after her for a few minutes, letting the conversation sink in. Jessie knows how I feel about her, she told herself. She thought about how much better her life was with Jessie in it. Of course she wanted Jess to move in for good, but that was Jessie’s call, right? Had she ever told Jess how deep her feelings for her were? Kelsey was making her second guess herself, which wasn’t really difficult. Devon remembered how she let her insecurities keep her from talking honestly to Alex, and then it was too late. She scowled. Maybe Kelsey was right. She would talk to Jessie soon.

  But right now she had work to do.

  Devon opened the file Kelsey had brought over. The case with Honeycutt had gone a little cold in the past few days. None of the players was saying much on the wire about cars, and Junior hadn’t made any more calls from the payphone. A detective friend of Jillian’s checked out the location in Zellwood, but without knowing which direction Junior went from there, it was impossible to track him. Now it was a waiting game, and patience wasn’t Devon’s strong suit.

  The new file was for a home invasion robbery. Devon frowned, wondering why Kelsey had dropped it off. She opened the cover and perused the details. Two armed suspects kicked in the door of an acquaintance’s apartment and robbed him at gunpoint. According to the victim—a questionable label because the guy was a known narcotics dealer—they took four hundred dollars and shot off a round before fleeing. Description of the suspects was generic. Kelsey noted that she thought the victim was lying and knew the perps.

  “And why do I care about this?” Devon asked aloud. She rubbed her eyes and kept reading. Apparently, the prime suspect was an associate of Scooby’s, so it had a bearing on the wire.

  Devon’s phone rang, and Jessie’s number on the display gave her a happy jolt inside. “Hey, honey.”

  “Hi. You still working?” The police radio squawked in the background.

  “Uh, huh. Sounds busy out there.”

  “Yeah, we are. I thought I’d take advantage of a free moment to call my favorite corporal.” The playful lilt in Jessie’s voice made Devon smile.

  “Funny, Detective Johnson said I was his favorite corporal, too,” she teased back.

  “I’ll bet he doesn’t take care of you the way I do.”

  “Nobody could, Jess. You know that, right?”

  “Yep. How’s your day going?”

  “Slow. The wire’s been quiet. I’ve been combing through the files again. A couple of the auto thefts have similar MOs, and property recovered in other cases ties at least three of the juveniles to previously unsolved cases. Nothing concrete on Honeycutt or Roy, though.”

  “You’ll figure it out, sweetheart. Crap. Hang on.” She waited while Jessie responded to the dispatcher. “I’ve got a call, hon.”

  “Jess?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Wake me up when you get home, all right? I miss you.”

  “See you later, then.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.” Jessie rang off.

  The recorder beeped indicating an incoming call on Scooby’s phone. Devon picked up the headset, noting the number was a new source.

  “What up, dog?” Scooby drawled.

  “Yo, dat little man of yours pulled a jack last night. Some punk been messin’ wit his girl. That ratchet you told him to move. Got to go deep undercover now, ’cause he cranked off a shot.”

  “Where’s that stupid muthafucka now?” Scooby was clearly not pleased.

  “Po-lice got him. Don’t worry, he won’t talk. And dem boys won’t snitch on ’lil man, neither.”

  “Where’s da ratchet now?”

  “Not sure, ’lil man says he took care of it.”

  “I ain’t takin’ no chances. Five-O still lookin’ for dat piece. Do a bro a solid. Find it and get ridda dat shit once an’ for all.”

  “Aight.”

  The line went dead. Devon sat back, taking in what she’d just heard. Clearly they were talking about a robbery, which meant that the ratchet was a gun. This gun had been the topic of conversation for some time now. What was special about this particular gun? She slid the file on the latest robbery in front of her again. The details of the call fit the report. She read the notes she’d taken during the call, circling the part about Five-O—the police looking for the piece.

  Obviously, the gun in question had been used in multiple crimes. Devon wished the realities of police work were like the movies. Then she’d be able to magically compare every piece of ballistic evidence and instantly find the link. Unfortunately, she needed more evidence to justify ordering those tests from the state lab. Devon flipped her notepad to a fresh sheet and wrote a reminder to pull all open or unsolved cases involving firearms in the past six months. She shook her head. As though she needed more threads to try to weave together.

  THE BRUSH OF lips against hers roused Devon out of slumber. She opened her eyes to see Jessie standing over her and realized she’d fallen asleep on the couch. Jessie traced her fingertips along Devon’s eyebrows before leaning in for another kiss that quickly deepened and then slowed to allow thorough exploration. They both took advantage of the unexpected pleasures of the moment, their tongues gliding together in slick warm recesses, reducing Devon’s entire world to the sensation of Jessie’s mouth on hers.

  Eventually, Jessie pulled back slightly, staring into Devon’s eyes. “I take it you’re glad to see me?”

  Devon gave a quick nod, her heart racing.

  “Hold that thought.” Jessie removed her utility belt and set it on the chair. She kept her focus on Devon while methodically unbuttoning her uniform shirt, letting it fall to the floor behind her. Next, she ripped the Velcro fasteners off her ballistic vest and lifted it over her head, before bending to untie and kick off her boots and socks. Devon was transfixed by the private striptease. Lastly, Jessie unbuckled her belt and pants, slowly slipping them off her hips and stepping free as they pooled at her ankles. Devon’s gaze swept over Jessie’s body, now only covered by a t-shirt, bra, and panties. Jessie removed the tie from her hair, shaking it free to send the rich strands flowing over her shoulders the way Devon loved it.

  Devon could no longer remain still. She pulled Jessie in for another round of sensuous lip play. Jessie molded her body against her, and Devon worked her hands beneath Jessie’s t-shirt to stroke her skin. They lay quietly together for a while. Finally Devon asked, “How was the rest of your night?” She continued caressing Jessie’s back.

  “Good. I had a very interesting call.”

  “Really?” Devon slid her hands down to massage the round contours of Jessie’s backside.

  “Oh, that feels good.” Jessie sighed and sagged against Devon’s chest.

  “Anyway, I took another report at the Mercedes dealership. Remember the one that had the multiple cars taken and I found the key? Craziest thing. The dealer had taken in a Chrysler trade-in for a vehicle two years
ago. My victims bought that Chrysler from the Mercedes dealer’s used car lot a month later. This week they received a recall notice and tried to have the work done at Chrysler, but the Chrysler dealer wouldn’t work on the car because they said something was not right with the VIN.”

  Devon worked the muscles in Jessie’s lower back now.

  “Ahh, yeah, baby, you have the best hands.”

  “What was up with the car?” Devon asked, continuing with the massage.

  “They had to take it back to the Mercedes dealer and told them what the Chrysler dealer said. Their body shop manager tried to compare the VIN number on the door to the dash. They didn’t match, but the door plate looked like maybe it had gotten damaged or something.” Jessie sat up now, growing more animated. “The manager decided to take out the entire dashboard. When he did, they discovered that a piece of an aluminum beer can engraved with a fake VIN number had been placed over the real VIN. And you’ll never guess—the real VIN shows the car was stolen. Is that unbelievable? These people had a title and everything. They had no idea they’d been driving a stolen car for two years.”

  Now Devon was completely riveted. She sat up and grabbed her pad off the coffee table and started making notes. “Wow. So, the VIN was either covered prior to arrival at the Mercedes dealership, or someone there inserted the fictitious number.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Where’s the car now?” Devon continued to write furiously.

  “Police lot, of course. And I figured that the bogus VIN plate might miraculously have some evidence attached—prints or whatever, so I put it in evidence.”

  “Thanks, that will make it easier when I get in on Monday. What do you think about the case? I mean is this something that might be unique or part of an organized operation?”

  Jessie paused. “It could have been a one-time thing. But then I got to thinking about your investigation. How easy would that be to do if someone had access to cars? What if a guy like Roy were to start switching out VINs, maybe from cars going to scrap? And if they did it well, heck, no one would ever know. Devon, seriously, those poor people paid good money for the car. They had a title registered with the state and didn’t suspect a thing.”

  “I’ll pull your report first thing when I get back to the office. You might be onto something, Jess.”

  “A copy of my report and a photocopy of the VIN and title are already on your desk, ma’am.”

  Devon dropped her pen and turned to Jessie. “Have I ever told you how truly amazing I think you are?”

  “I’m not sure.” Jessie shifted closer and Devon took advantage of the opportunity to paint kisses down her neck. Jessie threaded her fingers though Devon’s hair and made a soft mewling sound. Devon’s hands resumed their journey beneath Jessie’s shirt.

  Jessie gasped when Devon tweaked her nipple. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear more about the case?”

  “Completely.” Devon was starting to lose the capacity to think clearly as her body reacted to the contact, and Jessie’s responses threatened to drive her insane. “Amazing.” The next kiss sent her mind tilting, and she gave in to the growing physical desire, wanting nothing beyond Jessie’s touch.

  Jessie took Devon’s head between her hands, her eyes burning with pure hunger. “Make love to me.” The command tone was incredibly sexy, and Devon was immediately wet and ready. She couldn’t articulate a response. Jessie pulled her from the couch and helped her to the bedroom, where they stripped clothing away piece by piece. Lying face to face, Devon slowly touched every inch of Jessie’s skin. She followed with feather-light kisses, tasting her way along delectable curves. Jessie moaned and twisted with her growing need. Devon took her time, taking cues from Jessie’s body, wanting her to feel not just loved but worshipped, for that’s surely what Devon felt.

  When Jessie crested and released, her beauty made Devon want to weep. She cried out Devon’s name in her second climax and clung tightly until the storm settled.

  Devon stayed inside, awed by the magnificent power and simultaneous tenderness of this woman. Her emotions threatened to break through. She blinked as her eyes filled. Her head and heart warred. Questions of what if? plagued her relentlessly. At the same time, she had never felt so warm, safe, and utterly protected than in these private moments with Jessie.

  “I love you,” Jessie whispered.

  This time Devon couldn’t stop the tears.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  DEVON COULDN’T WAIT to get into the station on Monday morning to review and organize the separate components of the investigation. Her first stop was at the district office to pick up the information Jessie left regarding the fake VIN case. She wanted to meet with Kelsey and dive right into this new angle first thing.

  Devon was frustrated knowing that many of the high-end vehicle cases would never be solved if their new theory was right and the cars had been cloned and shipped overseas. Worse was knowing that Roy was operating with impunity, Scooby was running his dope, and Honeycutt was out there somewhere scheming. Everything was intertwined, and Devon vowed to put together a concrete case that would prove it.

  She crutched her way to the back doors of the headquarters building, stopping to shift her weight to her good leg while she dug out her swipe key to enter.

  “Dev, wait up.” Kelsey jogged in her direction. They rode the elevator to the eighth floor and entered the detective division offices. “How was your weekend, sport?”

  “Excellent. Jessie has weekends off this month. We had a great time.”

  “Really? What’d you do?”

  “Not much. Just spent time together.” She felt heat rising up her neck.

  Kelsey gave her a wicked grin. “You didn’t come up for air much. Got it.”

  “No. It wasn’t like that. We had dinner out the other night and caught a movie. Other than that, we relaxed and enjoyed each other’s company.” Kelsey was right about the coming up for air part, but Devon wasn’t going to confirm that for her.

  “Never mind,” Kelsey said. “Let’s change the subject. Auto thefts are my life, after all.” She plucked a file and a few message notes out of the acrylic wall pocket next to her office entry. She motioned for Devon to follow her. “Let’s head right to the wire room. I’ll start a pot of coffee, and you can tell me about what you accomplished after I left on Friday night.”

  In their now-familiar tiny work area, Devon zeroed in on the stack of files dealing with unsolved grand theft autos. She removed the file for Jessie’s case from her shoulder bag, setting it in front of her on the table. “Check this out, Kelse. Jessie recovered a car on Friday night that had a dummy VIN plate covering the real one, and that got me thinking about your high ticket vehicles and how the search warrant initially came up empty at Roy’s place. We need to prove that he’s cloning and retagging cars, so I made a list of the open cases that this MO might fit.”

  Kelsey moved around the table to examine the page Devon pushed toward her. “Holy shit. Kilbride recovered a stolen vehicle with a cloned VIN? Do you know how hard it is to find one of those? That girl of yours is on fire! She’s a hard worker and pays attention to the little details.”

  Devon nodded, pride bubbling over at the compliments.

  Kelsey went on. “For us it was a stroke of luck that she got the call. The fact she recognized right away that it possibly explained our disappearing European cars is amazing. She might make detective faster than anyone in department history. No joke.”

  “She’s amazing,” Devon tried to sound detached, but Kelsey caught her grinning.

  “Uh, huh,” Kelsey said. “I’ll just bet she is.”

  Devon snapped her fingers in front of Kelsey’s face. “Focus. Auto theft, remember?”

  Kelsey raised her middle finger.

  “I put together an analysis report of the thefts.” Devon handed over a copy of a sheet with columns showing the location, MO, date-time-day, and offense numbers. “You can see a pattern emerging when they’re compiled.
Most of the cars are taken from the downtown lots, and the other group is the ballsy heist from the dealership.”

  “What about this other set? The MO’s completely different.”

  “Only as far as vehicle of choice,” Devon said. “That’s where I figure the wire really comes in. I think Roy is running the high-end cloning operation. Honeycutt has been his foreman of sorts, organizing the thefts and probably handling the VIN cloning. But remember before I got hit we had the robbery suspect that said some white guy paid kids in the projects to steal cars? I think Junior has his own business on the side. He’s getting the other cars and selling or trading them.”

  “How does he connect to the narc dealers on the wire?”

  Devon took out two prison mug shot sheets and pushed them in Kelsey’s direction. “Vincent Honeycutt and Antonio Green, aka Scooby, were cell mates in Florida State Prison. Stands to reason that they would form a mutually profitable criminal alliance on the outside.”

  Kelsey stared at Devon in amazement. “Are you sure you didn’t camp out here working all weekend?”

  “I’m just super-efficient, Detective. You can buy drinks next time we go out as thanks.”

  “That’s a deal. What’s up next?”

  “I’m waiting for my friend in Orlando to get me more information on auto thefts in their jurisdiction. Hopefully it will give us another connection to Junior. It’s worth waiting a few days, I think. In the meantime, I’d suggest doing a bit more digging on the connection with Scooby. You left that robbery report for me. Can you go over to the jail and talk to Little Man? I want to know what the deal is with that gun. Kelse, I’m starting to feel like we could make a huge bust, scooping all of these assholes up in one large net if we play our cards right.”

  “That would be sweet,” Kelsey said. “I’ll head out to the jail this afternoon and let you know what I come up with.

  A GOOFY GRIN split Devon’s face when she looked up from the computer screen. Jessie strolled toward her with a couple of bags of takeout food in her hand, her gun belt slung low on her hips. Devon couldn’t make up her mind if she was sexier in or out of uniform, and then she decided it really didn’t matter. “Hey, you,” she said affectionately.