by Janie Crouch
Sherry opened her sketch pad to the page she was looking for. There she’d drawn an arm stretched at an odd angle. The latex gloves covered his fingers and hand up to his wrist, but then farther up, peaking through the sleeve hole of a white office shirt, was a tattoo of a skull with two bull’s-eyes in the eye sockets. Not big enough to be something overtly noticeable in everyday life, but certainly something identifiable.
“Interesting ink,” Jon murmured. “First thing I’ll do is have Corpus Christi PD run it against any known gang marks.”
Sherry nodded. “I’ve become familiar with some gang tattoos in my two years working cases in the Southeast and don’t recognize this, but my knowledge is in no way exhaustive.”
“Does she remember anything else about that shirt?”
“No, just that it was a white cuff, like any normal shirt a man would wear to an office or something, she said. She only remembers it was white because of the thought that his skin was so dark.”
Jon looked at the picture again. “His arm seems to be at a weird angle.”
“Yeah, that’s how Jasmine described it. I walked her through it a couple of times to be sure. I think it is because of how she was thrown on the ground. But it works to our advantage because if his arm had been at a more natural angle, she wouldn’t have seen the tattoo.”
“That’s good. Or as good as something can be in a situation like this.” He noticed Sherry was worrying her lip with her teeth, studying the picture. After a few seconds he forced his attention away from her lips. Barely. “Is there something wrong?”
She shrugged. “It’s just not my best work. I can see where...”
He waited for her to continue, but she didn’t.
“Where you what?”
“Just where I was starting to have my cold spells again. Lines are shaky, not as crisp.”
“It looks fine to me.”
“In this situation, I think it is okay, since a hand is a hand. If I had been drawing someone’s facial features, needing as much detail as possible? Those little errors could’ve made the difference between the drawing bearing a true resemblance to the perpetrator and just being a generic face that wouldn’t do law enforcement any good.” She was back to gnawing on her lip.
“Was the cold bad?” Before he could stop himself, he reached up and stroked her lip with his thumb so she wouldn’t cause it any harm with her teeth.
Their eyes met for just a moment—a heat-filled moment—before Sherry looked away and he dropped his hand. At least she stopped hurting that soft lip. If she needed anyone to nibble on it, he’d be glad to do that for her.
Although suggesting it would probably not go over well.
She had stopped talking altogether. “I’m sorry, please continue. I just didn’t want you to injure that lip.”
“Oh.” To his surprise, a delicate flush covered her cheek. She continued. “The cold was only bad when I could feel Jasmine’s terror.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I tried to focus on her, which was both good and bad. It made it that much harder to hear her story and know she was so frightened. On the other hand, I tried to focus on the fact that I was fine. I am not the one who’d had this horrible event happen to me. The least I could do was man up and listen without freaking out.”
Jon couldn’t help smiling at man up. “You made it through.”
“Only because she had very little to remember and it was ninety degrees outside. I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.”
“I’m sure you would’ve handled that, too. Woman up’ed. That’s one step beyond manning up.”
A little of her tension eased. She actually smiled at him.
The beauty of it struck him unexpectedly. Made him want to do things he wouldn’t normally consider with a woman he’d only known a few days. Jon liked to think pretty carefully before he leaped into any sort of relationship.
But her smile made him feel that thinking was overrated.
He realized he was seeing her as she was meant to be: relaxed, smiling, easy. Probably how she had been before these panic attacks had started taking over.
She began closing up her sketch pad but not before Jon caught a glimpse of the drawing she’d made of him. He stopped her.
Wow. She’d done a lot of work on this since he’d seen it a couple of days ago on the beach. He had thought it was good then, but this was amazing.
“This is incredible.” He didn’t know a drawing could look so realistic. She had shaded it in and added depth and perspective. It was almost like looking at a black-and-white photo of himself.
She had truly captured his likeness.
She tried to take the pad from him, but he stepped to the side, still looking at the drawing. “Have you been working on this for the past two days?”
“No, Agent Hatton. Believe it or not, I do have other things in my life. I did it in about thirty minutes this afternoon.”
Oh, great, now they were back to Agent Hatton. But Jon couldn’t get past the drawing.
“You did this in less than an hour? From memory?”
“Just give me the damn pad.”
She was embarrassed. It was kind of endearing how color stained her cheeks once again. Jon liked it so much better than her face being pinched and pale. She also looked as though she might slug him, so he handed her the sketch pad.
“You’re really talented.”
“Thanks. Right now it’s hit or miss, I’m afraid. I was able to draw this by not focusing on any cases or anything upsetting. That’s much harder when you’re listening to someone talk about horrific things that happened to them.”
“It’s at least a start, right? You actually drew something.”
Sherry shrugged. “I guess so.”
“I don’t want to push you to do more than you’re ready to do, but if you start feeling able, I’d love your help with this case. Maybe not talking to the other victims, just looking over what Frank Spangler got from them, which wasn’t much. See if there’s anything he missed. If you think you’re up to it.”
Chapter Nine
Was she up to it?
Sherry just didn’t know. She had made it through the past hour with Jasmine, but just barely. She had drawn that picture of Jon today, but had deliberately kept her mind neutral as she did so.
One thing she knew for sure, she didn’t seem to feel cold around Jon Hatton, whether it was anger or attraction.
What wasn’t to be attracted to? His dark looks, soft hazel eyes and chiseled chin were etched in her subconscious—she knew that from how quickly she had drawn him. Not to mention height. There weren’t many men who made her feel tiny and feminine.
Jon Hatton did. Everything about him made her just want to ease a little closer.
“Just ease into it, you know? As you’re ready. Might be good for you, too.”
“What?” Sherry had to stop herself from jumping backward. Had she said something out loud about how attractive she found him?
Jon was looking at her funny. “Helping with the cases? Just a little bit at a time?”
Easing into cases. Yes. Right.
“Um, yeah, maybe. But right now I’ve got to get going.” Before she did something completely stupid such as tell him how attractive he was and how she very definitely didn’t feel cold when she was around him.
“Okay, where’s your car?” He reached down to take her beach bag. “I’ll put this in it for you.”
“I don’t have a car. I walked here.”
“You what?” Jon’s tone noticeably deepened.
“I walked from Caroline’s house. It’s about halfway between where I’m staying and here.”
“And you’re just going to walk home?” If possible his voice deepened even more. And a vein w
as beginning to bulge a little in his forehead.
“It’s only a little over a mile if you walk straight down the beach.”
“Are you crazy?”
Now veins were bulging in his forehead and throat. “There’s a rapist wandering around Corpus Christi and you think it is okay to just walk home, completely alone?”
Sherry remembered the feeling she’d gotten earlier walking on the beach. As if someone were watching her. Maybe walking alone hadn’t been the best plan. “From what I’ve read, the attacks occurred at houses, not out on a beach in plain sight.”
“There’s still no way in hell I’m going to let you do something as idiotic as walk home as it’s getting dark.” His voice wasn’t a shout, but it was definitely louder than normal conversation.
The craziness of it all was that Sherry didn’t actually disagree with him. She’d be damned if she’d cower just because he was being a jerk.
Again.
“You know if you had just said, ‘Why don’t I give you a ride home? Now might not be the safest time to be walking alone,’ I would’ve gladly accepted your offer. But now I think I’d rather take my chances alone than be stuck with you.”
Jon ran a hand over his face. She could see him attempting to reboot and get the situation and himself under control.
“Attempting to activate normal people mode, rather than jerk mode?” she asked him, aware that she probably shouldn’t taunt him. He just made her so mad.
He grimaced but actually chuckled. “Believe it or not, I am actually known for my way with people. I’m a pretty friendly and likable guy.”
“That’s good to know. So I guess I won’t have to suggest personality dialysis.”
This time he laughed out loud. “You’re a smart ass.”
“So I’ve been told. But not in a long while.”
It felt good to be irritated and attracted and warm. For too long she’d felt nothing but cold and fear.
“Why don’t I give you a ride home?” Jon repeated her earlier words back to her. “Now might not be the safest time to be walking alone.” He gave her a sparkling smile, the dimple in his chin irresistible in the fading light.
“Since I don’t want to traumatize the Houze family any more than they’ve already been by yelling more out here, I accept.”
As if there was any way she could resist that dimple.
He took her bag and put it in the backseat, then held the passenger door open for her.
The streets back to her house took a little while longer since there were no direct routes that ran parallel to the beach.
“Personality dialysis.” He muttered it under his breath, shaking his head.
Yeah, that hadn’t been nice. “Sorry,” she said. “Growing up I had a tendency to blurt out whatever I was thinking.”
“Trust me. I’ll take my chances with your acerbic wit over seeing you suffer through those cold spells any day.”
He reached over to grab her hand that was sitting between them in a friendly squeeze. They both felt the heat immediately when they touched. Her eyes met his briefly before he turned back to the road and she put her hands in her lap.
Wow. That had never happened before. Sherry could almost still feel heat running through her fingers where they’d touched.
“Weird,” she murmured.
He glanced over at her, but she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. “Yeah, weird.”
There was silence for a few moments until she realized he wasn’t going in the right direction for her house.
“Do you mind if we go into town and grab a sandwich? I haven’t had dinner and have been all but dreaming about this barbecue brisket sandwich I had to part ways with a couple of days ago when called in for the case.”
Sherry smiled. She could understand the appeal. “As long as they don’t mind me coming in my beach wear.”
Jon winked at her. “I’m pretty sure that won’t be a problem at this place. They line the tables with newspaper.” He made a turn leading them away from the beach. “Did you need anything from Caroline’s house?”
“No, I have everything with me. She’s working a night shift, so she’s not home.”
“Okay.”
“Plus, she’s pretty mad at you.” As soon as she said the words, Sherry immediately saw the trap she’d laid for herself and wished she could take them back.
“What? Why?”
Sherry shrugged. “I don’t know. Something you said or something.”
“When? I would hate to think I’ve offended her. She’s the one who has kept me in the loop when most of Corpus Christi PD has been trying to keep me out of it.”
“It’s nothing. She’s not really mad. Forget I mentioned it.”
“No, tell me.” His tone brooked no refusal.
“It’s nothing, seriously. You just told Caroline you were going to ask me out the other day.”
He immediately knew what she was talking about. “Yeah, I told her that to get the address of where you were staying.”
Hearing him admit that he’d never had any intention of actually asking her out hurt a little more than it should for someone she’d only known a few days.
She slid a little farther away from him in her seat. “Yeah, well, Caroline figured that out, so you better watch your back.”
“Listen, it’s not that I didn’t want to ask you out. Just at the time, I needed you more for the case.”
“And you knew how to work the situation to get what you wanted. How to work her and how to work me. You’re pretty good at your job.”
Jon glanced over at her, lips pinched together, driving in silence for another ten minutes until they pulled up at the diner. He still didn’t say anything as he chose a parking space that was far away from the entrance in a darkened corner of the lot.
He parked and snatched the keys out of the transmission. In the same breath, he turned to her, leaning so far forward that Sherry had to lean back a little so they wouldn’t be pressed together.
“You know what I’m good at?” he said. “I’m good at seeing things other people miss. I’m good at juggling multiple problems at the same time. I’m good at helping keep the press at bay and helping keep people from panicking in a situation like this one where it would be justifiable to do so.”
He was upset. He didn’t raise his voice, his veins weren’t standing out in his forehead like when she mentioned walking home, but he seemed to be toeing a thin line with his control.
“You know what I’m not good at?” he continued. “Trying to balance the fact that I need your skills on this case with the overwhelming urge to keep you as far away from it as possible so that you can heal. I’m not good at constantly weighing what’s good for the case versus what’s good for you, instead of just—what did you call it the other day?—handling you to get what I want.”
Sherry knew she should do something: get out, crack a joke, tell him to find another forensic artist. But all she could do was stare at him. As if she were hypnotized by his hazel eyes.
“Most of all I’m not good at being able to get you out of my mind. Damned if you haven’t been stuck there since the first second I saw you.”
His lips were on hers before she could form another thought.
If she thought there was heat when their hands had touched, this was downright explosive.
His mouth was wet, hot, open against hers and she couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get close enough.
Forget cold. Within seconds she was burning. She forgot everything but the strength and heat of the kiss. It was consuming her.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. She could feel his at her waist, hips, pulling her to him.
The loud ringing of a phone moments later was what forced them to ease back from each other
. Their eyes locked, both downright dazed.
Jon finally reached down into the cup holder and picked up the phone. He looked at it then cursed under his breath. “It’s Zane Wales from Corpus Christi PD. I’ve got to take this.”
Sherry nodded.
“Hatton.”
He listened to whatever Zane said and muttered another curse. He opened the car door and got out.
Sherry opened her door. It was positively steaming inside the car and for once she needed to cool herself down.
“Where?” Jon was saying. Then listened some more.
“I’ll be right there. And for God’s sake, make sure Spangler isn’t around.” He disconnected the call and looked straight at Sherry. “I’m sorry. You can’t make an honest man out of me tonight. I’ve got to go.”
“Trouble?” She hoped not.
He nodded, lips pursed. “Another woman has been attacked.”
Sherry closed her eyes. When would this end?
“I’ll take you home, then head out to the hospital. After what happened last time, I feel like I need to make sure no one upsets the victim in any way.”
“I’ll just come with you to the hospital. If you have to take me all the way home, it will be over thirty minutes before you get there. Maybe more.”
“Are you sure?”
No, she wasn’t sure at all. But she knew he needed to get there as soon as he could. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to this new victim, but I do want to help you get there as fast as possible.”
He trailed a finger down her cheek. “Thank you. I know just being there isn’t easy for you.”
“I’ll be all right. There’s someone who has gone through much worse than me. Let’s get you there so you can help her.”
Chapter Ten
They pulled up at the hospital and rushed inside. Zane was waiting for them at the door, cowboy hat still firmly on his head, fairly brimming with excitement.
“We’ve got DNA,” he told them without any greeting. “One of the nurses told me this latest victim was able to get a scratch in and there were definitely skin cells under her fingernails.”