Police Business

by Julie Miller

  Her fingers curled around his shoulders and he let his hands go straight to where they wanted to, settling around her waist. “I’m going to go do my job, and I need you to stay here with Cole so that I don’t have to worry about Galvan hurting you while I’m gone.”

  “I want to go with you. I thought we were a team.”

  A couple of the dancers dashed back and forth at the end of the hallway between numbers, and A.J. realized this place might not be private enough. The door to his left beckoned, mocked. The plastic sign glued to the center read Custodian.

  “Let’s go in here.” He didn’t even want to consider the symbolism as he opened the door, turned on the light and ushered the heiress inside.

  The smells of paint and ammonia stung his nose, and there was barely enough room for the two of them to stand together and turn around. But the door shut out the loud music and curious looks, and gave him the opportunity to tunnel his fingers into her hair, lift her onto her toes and steal a kiss. And then another one. And then it wasn’t really stealing because she looped her arms around his waist and parted her lips and kissed him back.

  “A.J.” Just one more. “A.J., what—?” One more.

  Drawing on the strength of the cop and ignoring the needs of the man, A.J. lifted his mouth and inhaled a sobering breath of cleanser-tinted air. He pulled Claire into his chest and palmed the back of her head, cradling her beneath the crook of his chin.

  With a sigh, she settled against him, fitting their bodies together in perfect unison. But as much as he loved holding her, he knew the clock was ticking.

  Leaning back, he cupped her face between his hands and tilted it up so she could read his words. “KCPD found Valerie’s body. I need to go to the police lab to gather whatever information I can from the autopsy.”

  “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

  “Be safe. Stay alive.” He combed the hair back from her temples and traced the pretty shells of her ears with fingers that trembled with tightly suppressed need. “Be here for me to come back to.”

  She moved her hands up to his jaw, stroked the planes of his face and lips, soothed the new and fearsome emotions that truly did have him off his best professional game. That same Madonna-like serenity that had gentled his self-doubts and eased his guilt last night reached out to him again.

  “I’ll be here,” she promised.

  He gathered her in his arms and hugged her tight.

  How was he ever going to let her go and get his life back to business as usual when this was over? He couldn’t picture himself going to parties like the Winthrops hosted, and Claire’s bright light certainly didn’t belong in the dark world where he made a living.

  He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want to lose this.

  With his emotions as twisted up as they were, he knew that losing Claire was going to hurt like hell. But deep inside, at the core of what made him a man, A.J. knew that Claire getting hurt—or killed—would destroy him.

  He forced himself to pull away so that they could communicate once more. “My instincts tell me we’re closing in…that something big’s about to break. Now I have to go get the facts to back that up.”

  Claire nodded her understanding. “The more you push, though, the more likely Galvan and his accomplice will push back. Right?”

  Some of his streetwise mentality was rubbing off on her. “Cole will watch over you. I trust him with my life. I’ll trust him with yours.” He tweaked her chin between his thumb and forefinger to make sure she paid attention to his warning. “You do not leave this building. You do not go off by yourself anywhere. If any of the customers give you any trouble, you tell Cole. If you get the feeling you’re being watched again—”

  “I’ll be good.” Her reassuring smile almost made his fears go away.

  Almost.

  “I know. It’s the other guy I’m worried about.” God, she was still smiling. “It makes me nuts to know that somebody wants to hurt you. I need you to be safe.”

  Claire nodded, maybe understanding more than he wanted her to. “And I need you to find answers. Find out why this is happening to me, A.J. Make it go away. I want my life back.”

  That was one promise he intended to keep. Even if he wasn’t a part of it. “Give ’em hell, tiger. Anybody tries to hurt you, you give ’em hell.”

  “A couple of hours, right?”

  “Cole will keep you safe.”

  “A.J., I…” She grabbed a handful of his T-shirt. An unvoiced thought chinked a frown across her lips.

  “What?”

  She smoothed everything back into place, including her smile. “Just hurry back.”

  He leaned in for one last, quick, passionate kiss that promised her everything he had to give.

  And then he was gone.

  Chapter Ten

  “So you’ve known A.J. a long time?”

  Claire set her tray on the bar next to Cole and allowed herself to climb up on the stool beside him for a five-minute break. After a couple of nights of being “on” for the customers, and running herself ragged to do a good job, she was finally learning how to pace herself. During the performances, most of the men didn’t want to be disturbed while they lived out some fantasy watching the women onstage. That was when she could take a breather and not worry about reading lips or mixing up drinks. When the number was done, then she’d go check her tables.

  But tired feet weren’t the main reason she sat down. A.J. had already been gone for the two hours he’d promised, and she was starting to get an antsy feeling that something had happened to detain him.

  “We go back a lot of years.” Cole smiled as if he was flirting with her, but Claire knew it was part of the act. “He was my training partner when I first made detective. He’s got the best instincts of any cop I know. He can take care of himself.”

  Was she that obvious? “So you think he’s okay?”

  Cole had blended in like any of the other customers, but like A.J., she’d also noticed a wariness about the man. Cole was much taller and built on a stockier scale than A.J., so he carried himself differently. But there was something about the eyes that was the same—always looking, always alert, always seeming to know right where she was any time she looked at him across the club floor.

  “I think that nose of his is on the trail of something that’ll give the good guys an advantage on this case.”

  “What can Valerie’s body tell him?”

  Cole shrugged. He might not know all the details of the crime, but he could speculate. “If there’s still a bullet in her, then we can trace the gun. Its make, who sells them, who’s bought one recently. If there was any struggle, she might have trace DNA of her killers on her. If there was no struggle, that tells us she knew her killer—someone she wouldn’t suspect would harm her.”

  Claire refused to believe someone in her father’s own company, or her own family, would want to harm her. That thought scared her more than knowing a hit man was after her. Dominic Galvan was the enemy she knew. But there was someone much more treacherous closer to home—someone she trusted. Someone who had no qualms about betraying her. Who in her circle of family and friends was capable of murder? Or if not actually pulling the trigger, of being callous enough to pay someone to do it for them?

  The crowd of patrons filling the dimly lit room suddenly didn’t feel as disinterested as they had just a moment ago. The tipsy party atmosphere of the room took a malevolent turn. What? she wanted to scream. Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?

  She turned and scanned each table and booth. Everyone seemed focused on the woman onstage or the drink in his hand. But her arms prickled with goose bumps and her breath caught in her chest. He was here. Watching her. Again.

  “Hey.” Claire gasped out loud at the hand on her knee. As soon as she recognized Cole, he pulled his hand away. “Easy. What is it?”

  Freaky paranoia? Shot nerves? “You don’t think anything’s happened to A.J., do you?” She couldn’t do this on
her own. She didn’t want to be on her own.

  Cole’s posture didn’t relax. Her suspicions had put him on guard. “He’s coming back. I’ve never known him to fail at his word. What’s wrong?”

  She looked into the seriousness of Cole’s eyes. Never known him to fail. Is that why A.J. was so hard on himself? Did he think he had to be the perfect, quintessential cop twenty-four hours a day?

  Claire knew he was much more than that. But if failure wasn’t an option, then how could he ever take a chance on happiness? On love? On her?

  Why couldn’t he just be the man she loved? The man who needed to learn to love himself a little better.

  She’d almost blurted it out before he left. I love you. But the janitor’s closet wasn’t the right place for such declarations, and her timing had sucked. He’d been anxious to leave—to pursue the case. And…oh hell. “I think somebody’s watching me.”

  Was it the bachelor party just coming in? Someone hidden in one of the secluded booths?

  Claire couldn’t see, and she wasn’t going to get a chance to because Cole stood and pulled her up in front of him, blocking her view of most of the bar, or rather, blocking their view of her. “Let’s go.” He kept his hand on her shoulder and nudged her toward the back rooms. “A.J. said to…”

  “He said what?” Cole had turned his head. They were still moving. “I couldn’t see—”

  At the tap on her shoulder, Claire screamed out loud. Cole pulled her behind him as he pushed someone out of the way. The volume of the music and din of voices must have drowned out her scream because no one but Cole seemed to be reacting to her panic.

  “Wait.” Claire twisted in his grip, needing to see who’d accosted her. “Debbie?”

  Debbie Dunning wasn’t dressed for work yet. Her plain clothes and unadorned face made it easy to read the tension that had her wound tighter than her stage garters. “Kiki, I need to talk to you.”

  A gentle shove stopped Cole long enough to check on her friend. “What’s wrong? Did your professor give you more grief over that test?”

  Debbie’s gaze darted about the club as she waved that topic aside. “It’s about a guy.”

  Cole was moving again, taking her away. “You’ll have to finish this conversation another time, ladies.” They were in the back hallway now, her legs pumping in double time to keep up with him. “The first rule is to get you out of sight, then we’ll contact A.J.”

  Debbie had run to catch up with them. She planted herself in their path. “Claire, you have to listen.”

  Claire?

  She froze.

  “That’s right.” Debbie grimaced in apology. “I know who you are. I recognized you off the TV last night in the dressing room. The shoes made me think you were on the run. And,” she cringed, “I think I made a really big mistake.”

  “What mistake?”

  “You’re gonna hate me.”

  “What mistake?” Cole insisted.

  Debbie flinched at the big man’s threat. Needing information more than she needed protection right now, Claire laid a hand on his arm and tried a calmer approach. “What did you do, Deb?”

  Keeping a nervous eye on Cole, she answered. “I called your father’s office and said I knew where you were.”

  “You talked to my father?” A moment’s concern quickly passed. Looking at Debbie’s expression, there was a bigger problem here. “Who did you talk to?”

  The problem was bigger than she’d imagined. “He’s on his way here. Right now.”

  “Who is?”

  “I didn’t get a name. Except for the secretary, Amelia something. This guy just said he handles these kinds of affairs for Winthrop Enterprises. I thought I could use the reward money for my classes. But then I thought about how you listened to my sob story and made sure I got home okay, and I realized a girl can’t rat out her friend. So I called the office back and said I’d made a mistake. But this guy’s like a bad date who won’t take no for an answer.”

  She paused to catch her breath and sped on. “I’m sorry. But this guy said he was coming to either find you and take you home where you belong, or he was gonna find me to see what kind of sadistic slut would get your family’s hopes up when they’re suffering like they are over your disappearance.”

  Claire squeezed Debbie’s hand. “He threatened you?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ve heard worse.” Claire was getting more and more disenchanted with her family and their circle of friends by the minute. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry and give you a heads-up so you had time to get out of here before he comes. I kind of figured you didn’t want to be found.”

  “I can’t leave.” A.J. had warned her not to. Galvan was out there, waiting for her. But if another enemy showed up here…She turned her head to include Cole. “If I’m gone when A.J. gets back, he’ll freak.”

  “He’ll understand. Your safety comes first.”

  “He’ll blame himself.” She might not know a lot about men, but she knew that much about A.J. She didn’t want to be any more of a burden on his conscience than she already was.

  Wait a minute. Give ’em hell, tiger. Anybody tries to hurt you, you give ’em hell.

  What was the message there? Don’t wait for someone else to tell her what to do or to fight her battles for her. Stand up for herself. Be her own person. All those clichés had to come from some piece of wisdom somewhere.

  A.J.’s words had her thinking she could take care of herself. That he believed she could take care of herself. She could fight this. “I don’t want to run,” she murmured out loud.

  The idea that she could make a difference both thrilled and frightened her. But she could do it. A.J. believed she could do it. For her life—and his sake—she wanted to try.

  “I don’t want to run,” she stated with more conviction. She tugged on Cole’s arm. “I’d be able to recognize whomever Debbie talked with on the phone. If I could get a look at everyone who comes in here tonight, we’d know who Galvan’s accomplice at Winthrop, Inc., is. Then we could force him to turn in Galvan.”

  “We don’t know that’s who Debbie talked to. It could just be a concerned friend,” Cole argued. “But the idea is to keep you hidden. If someone else can find you, then Galvan can, too.”

  “I’m staying.”

  “No way. I am not explaining you getting hurt to A.J.”

  Claire shook her fists. “I am sick and tired of people telling me what I can and cannot do. I don’t need permission to be who I am. I don’t have to make my choices based on what someone else thinks Claire Winthrop ought to be.”

  With a frustrated sigh, she tucked her hair behind her ears. And left it in place. Neither of these people was her enemy; she shouldn’t take a life’s worth of frustrations out on them. She was thinking more clearly, signing as she spoke this time. “I’m sorry. But I’m the only one here who knows the Winthrop people on sight.”

  “Maybe that’s why one of them wants you dead,” Cole pointed out. “What if he spots you before you see him?”

  “I could hide.”

  “Where?” Debbie asked. “There isn’t any place secluded in this joint where you could still have a view of the customers.”

  The best view of the customers.

  The germ of an idea formed. A.J. had reputedly taught Cole everything he knew about undercover work. Maybe Claire had picked up a few tips from the master, too.

  “What if I hide in plain sight?” She looked into Debbie Dunning’s coed face. “Can you fix me up like I was going onstage? With the wig and the makeup?”

  “A disguise?”

  “Yes.”

  Debbie’s guilt eased into a smile and she grabbed Claire’s hand. “C’mon, girlfriend.”

  A.J. LOCKED THE DOOR of his Trans Am and jogged across the parking lot to the front door of the Riverfront Gentleman’s Club. Sneaking in the back way to avoid questions from the manager about his four-hour coffee break was less important than getting to Claire as quickly as possible
. He’d been gone almost two hours longer than he’d promised her.

  Punctuality was probably another trait highly prized by corporate giants like Winthrop Enterprises, Inc. But in police work, when the pieces of a case started falling into place, a good cop stuck with it until he found his answers.

  Bless Holly Masterson’s eye for tiny details.

  Valerie Justice had been as neatly killed and disposed of as Claire had described. She’d been a beautiful woman in her fifties. The bullet holes had been efficiently placed to kill instantly and make a minimal mess. Though there’d been no plastic mat found with her body, Holly’s team had discovered patterns in the pooling of the blood in the body—as if Valerie had been rolled up like a tamale filling and cinched in tight.

  Unfortunately for the killer who had rolled her up and transported her to the landfill, he’d left an unintended calling card. Mixed in with Valerie’s expensively dyed and permed hair, Holly had found a thin, straight black hair with the root intact to establish DNA. Holly’s team had already retrieved a matching hair from the gray house where Galvan had positioned himself to kill Claire.

  Thank God the man needed Rogaine. Now all they needed was a sample from Galvan himself and Dwight Powers had a case he could run with. The focus of the prosecution would be the pattern of forensic match-ups at both crime scenes, not the testimony of Galvan’s sole surviving witness.

  It was news enough to share. Progress enough to give Claire hope that there was an end in sight.

  But the most telling clue—pressed into the stiff, bloated skin at the back of Valerie’s neck—was the perfect imprint of a man’s ring. As if it had turned palm-inward and cut into her skin when he lifted the body to dispose of it. If the killer hadn’t done such a thorough job of wrapping up the body, decomposition might have taken the clue with it.

  Holly had taken a picture of the marking from every angle, and A.J. had sketched a drawing in his notebook. Four angled lines at the center of a circle, with two small squares at either side.