Murder Mayhem and Mama

by Christie Craig

  She checked the time. Almost nine. She frowned. He wasn’t the only one tired. She had to get up at six. She stood, turned on the television, and cut the volume on low.

  Flipping channels, she found the nightly news. She saw a picture of a police officer on the screen. He looked familiar. Sitting on the foot of the bed, she listened.

  “Officer Mike Anderson was found shot at his home earlier this afternoon. Police are...”

  She stared at the face again and it hit her. “Oh, God!” He was the officer who had come to the house that first night. She remembered thinking he’d looked familiar then, too. As if she’d met the man somewhere else.

  Looking back at Detective Lowell—okay, Brit—she wondered if he knew about this man’s death. Then she recalled him getting that phone call while they’d been in his car. He’d been upset. For just a second she wondered how one dealt with a job that could involve so much ugliness—crime, death.

  She gave Brit another glance and considered waking him. But he looked so peaceful. His brows were no longer pinched and even, slow breaths moved his chest up and down. Rolling her eyes, she cratered. She’d let him sleep a few more minutes.

  Kicking off her shoes, she decided she had a right to be comfortable, too. She stretched out, her head on the end of the bed, far enough she didn’t touch him. Then with her chin on her folded arms, she watched the news.

  ~

  Brit felt the vibration in his jeans pocket. It took him a second to realize it was his phone. Opening one eye, he stared at the pair of feet resting on his chest. He blinked and opened both eyes. Where the hell was he? Everything came back at once: Chinese food, Cali, the motel. Cali’s feet?

  He raised his head off the pillow an inch. Yup, Cali’s feet. Pretty feet with red toenails. Nice legs. Nice…pink panties. Her dress had ridden up to her waist—showing off a beautiful rounded ass covered with a thin piece of pink silk. He inhaled and felt his blood ride south. Really nice view.

  He reached for his phone, regretfully gave up the nice view, slipped out from beneath her soft legs, and got out of the bed. The television was on, flickering light, and very little sound in the room. Taking a few steps, he couldn’t help looking back one more time to savor what he left on the mattress. Holy hell, what he wouldn’t give to crawl back in that bed and pull that dress the rest of the way off and explore all of Cali McKay with both his hands and mouth.

  He went into the bathroom. When he turned to close the door, he saw the time on his phone. Twelve-thirty. Damn, he was late for work. “Lowell,” he whispered.

  “Are you going to show up for work?” Quarles asked.

  Brit ran a palm over his face. For the first time in weeks, he’d actually slept. The kind of sleep that made a body feel human.

  “You okay?” Quarles asked.

  “I overslept. Be right there.” He hung up, washed out his mouth, then walked back into the room. He found the remote and clicked it off. Cali lay curled up on her side, her hands tucked under her cheek in the place of a pillow. His gaze whispered down her hot body. Damn she had a beautiful ass and legs. He swallowed, letting his gaze linger on her soft backside while his mind conjured up an image of putting his finger on the back of her knee and moving up her leg. All the way up—to the pink panties. He envisioned running his finger under the elastic band and….

  His body responded to the images in his head. He frowned. Just what he needed to carry to work with him, a hard-on. Exhaling, he tried to chase the thoughts from his mind and draped the blanket across her legs.

  Before he walked out, he looked back and got another kick in the gut. He didn’t want to leave. What if that idiot had followed her here? You’re overreacting, he told himself. Tomorrow, when she went to school was when he should really worry. And he could be there then.

  Would be there.

  He walked to the door, his protect-and-serve instinct hitting hard. Then thinking about Keith and Anderson, he left.

  Fifteen minutes later, Brit found Quarles sitting at his desk, going through mug shots. Quarles looked up. “Everything okay?” Concern flickered in his partner’s eyes.

  “Fine, why?”

  “I’ve spoken with your sister three times. She’s been trying to reach you.”

  “Oh, shit. I forgot her again. I’m an ass.” He remembered seeing her number flash on his phone while looking for Cali and not answering it. He walked to his office, snatched his phone out. Sure enough, she’d also called while he’d been sleeping and he hadn’t woken up. He jabbed in his home number.

  “Hello,” Susan answered, fully alert and probably pissed. He didn’t blame her.

  “I’m sorry,” Brit said. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

  “I heard about the other cop, and I’ve been worried about you.”

  “I know and I’m really sorry, Susan. I’ve been a dickhead lately. I can’t think straight, I’m losing my temper at the least little thing. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll be home in the—” He remembered he had to make sure Cali got to school okay. “I’ll be home by ten in the morning. I swear, I will.”

  “Did you sleep at all today?” she asked.

  “Yeah. As a matter of fact I overslept.”

  “Where were you?”

  “I—”

  “If you were out with some girl, the least you could have done was to have called me.”

  “It’s not like that. Really. I’ll explain it tomorrow. I promise.”

  She sighed. “I’m just relieved you’re okay.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.” He hung up and raked a hand over his face.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Quarles stood in the doorway.

  “I’m fine.” He thought about Cali alone in the hotel room. Then he glanced at the mug books in Quarles’ hands.

  He remembered the all-night diner across from Cali’s hotel. “How about us setting up office somewhere else tonight?”

  “Like where?”

  “I’ll show you. Grab our files and bring the mug books.” Brit reached back again for his leather jacket. It wasn’t there, and he remembered Cali’s sweater tucked in the back of his SUV. Tomorrow he’d give it to her. The idea of seeing her tomorrow sent a shot of anticipation through his blood.

  He vaguely recalled thinking that once he got some food and rest, he’d be able to fight the attraction.

  He’d been wrong.

  ~

  “I don’t mean to upset you, dear.” Cali’s mom sat in the straight back chair beside the bed, smoking again.

  A dream—her maternal psyche trying to take care of her. Then Cali remembered the detective, and she jerked her gaze to the empty bed.

  “He left,” her mom said. “He had to go to work.”

  Cali stared at her mom. This is a dream, isn’t it? “You’re not real.”

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay, and then I’ll go.”

  Cali suddenly felt guilty as if her mom thought she didn’t want to see her. “The dreams just freak me out a little.”

  “I should have made him leave a lot sooner.” Her mom took another drag on the cigarette.

  Cali thought about the detective. “Asked who to leave?”

  “Your father. I let him stay, and I shouldn’t have.”

  Cali saw regret in her mom’s eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yes, it was. I let that man treat us something terrible. But I thought I loved him. And I was scared to raise you alone.”

  “You did fine,” Cali said.

  “You’re the best thing I did. I’m proud of you, baby. Did I tell you that?”

  “Every day for the last three years,” Cali whispered, remembering their time together at the end. “You tried so hard to prepare me for your dying. I should have been ready, but I just wanted you to try one more time. The chemo might have worked.”

  “It wouldn’t have worked, baby. It would have just made me sicker.” Her mom smiled with so much love that the ache in Cali’s heart les
sened. “You can’t prepare yourself for this,” she said. “Plus, that Stan guy messed everything up.”

  “I know.” Cali watched her mom inhale and release. “I thought he was nice, but he wasn’t.”

  “No, he wasn’t nice. He took advantage of you. But he didn’t kill those two men.”

  Cali heard her mom, but almost didn’t believe it. “What?”

  “Stan didn’t kill them. It was the other guy, the other band member. And he’s after Stan now. Stan needs money to get out of town. That’s why he’s looking for the bracelet. But he’s still not a nice guy. He loses his temper just like your dad did. And he’s feeling desperate and desperate people do bad things sometimes.”

  “How do you know?” Cali asked.

  “I told you. There are some benefits to being dead.” Her mom looked around the room and took another drag of her cigarette. “He covered you up before he left, you know.”

  “Who?” Cali asked.

  “Brit. Your Mr. Reynolds look-alike. He’s a nice guy. He cares about you. You need to listen to him.”

  “He’s not mine.”

  “He could be yours. You two match. Your auras kept flowing together when you two were sleeping. It was as if they couldn’t keep apart. And when they blended, the colors were amazing. You two go together really well.”

  “Our auras? Mom, you don’t even believe in auras.”

  “Sweetheart, there’s nothing like dying to make you more open-minded.” She took another drag on the cigarette and her bracelets jingled in the smoky silence.

  “He’s a dickhead,” Cali said.

  Her mom smiled. “Yeah, but remember, he’s just Little Dickhead.” She chuckled and then sobered. “He’s got a good heart, Cali. You should see him feeding the stray cats. He’s just going through something right now. You’ll help though.”

  “I don’t want to help him,” she said, but it was a lie and she felt it in her stomach. She had to learn to be a bitch.

  “Yes, you do. You always want to fix people. You wanted to fix my cancer and couldn’t. You want to fix your students. Even Stan. The counselor is only partly right; you might have a little weakness toward men like your father, but more than that, you just want to fix people. You saw Stan as lonely, like yourself, and that’s why you let him in your life. Bad decision, but for a good reason.”

  Cali recalled believing that Stan had seemed lonely. She looked away, not wanting to think about Stan. “So I just have to stop caring.”

  “No, dear, you don’t stop caring. You just accept that you can’t win them all. But you can’t give up.”

  “You gave up,” Cali said. “If you’d done one more treatment, it could have worked. We could have at least had Christmas, New Years, and maybe Easter.”

  “It wouldn’t have changed things,” her mother whispered in a voice so low that her words seemed to float away. “I was so tired of fighting cancer.”

  Cali turned her head, hoping her mom wouldn’t see the anger that still lingered in her heart. She had wanted one more time.

  “You wanted to fix me, dear. We couldn’t win this one. But I have one that you can win. Actually, I have several that you can win. And I’m going to help you. Help you help others. But you’re going to have to listen to me.”

  “Listen to what?” Cali asked, her breath shaky.

  “Don’t go to lunch. Stay at the school.” Her mother’s voice seemed to float away again.

  “What?” Cali asked as a noise tried to shatter the dream.

  “Do you hear me, Cali? Don’t go to lunch. And think about that officer–the one who was killed. It’s important, Cali. You need to remember.”

  The noise. Cali heard it again. She jack-knifed up and opened her eyes. It took one second to remember where she was. Then she heard something and looked at the door. Her breath caught when she saw the knob turning. Had Stan found her again?

  Chapter Seventeen

  When the door pushed open, Cali’s scream lodged in her throat.

  Then Brit stepped into the room.

  Perched up on her knees, staring at him from behind a curtain of blond hair, she managed to close her mouth. She remembered the dream, then she remembered watching the news. “You fell asleep,” she said.

  His bad-boy grin teased her sleepy mind. “I don’t normally fall asleep when I have a beautiful woman in bed with me.”

  She frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to make sure you got to school.” He shoulder-shut the door while focusing on her. “You all right?”

  She realized the brightness sneaking around the window treatments. “What time is it?” She knee-walked off the bed, his teasing smile, too much, too early. She should have woken him right when he fell asleep. Once again, being sweet had gotten her into a pickle. A bitch would have kicked him out.

  “It’s almost six.” He looked wide awake and wonderful. “I got us breakfast.” He set a bag on the dresser.

  She pushed a hand through her blond mess, trying to untangle her thoughts more than her hair. Had she slept all night with him? She remembered her mom saying something about him leaving. “Did you work last night?”

  “Actually, I overslept.” His smile gave his words more meaning than she understood. “But yeah, I went to work.” He pulled two coffees from a bag and held one out to her. “Coffee now, or after you shower?”

  She blinked, her brain on overload. “How did this happen?”

  “What happen?” He set the bag and one coffee on the dresser. He wore the navy windbreaker. It didn’t look as if he’d changed clothes.

  “This.” She waved a hand between them. “You here and talking about showers and bringing me coffee.”

  “I was just trying to be nice.” He pulled the top of the coffee off and sipped from the rim. The smell of chicory and caffeine made everything seem more real.

  She eyed the clock again, figuring how much time she had to get to work, then she looked back at him. “Why are you here now?”

  The steam from the cup rose around his face. “Because I want to make sure Stan isn’t waiting for you at the school.”

  She remembered her dream again. Her mom had said for her not to go out for lunch. She pressed her palms against her eyes.

  “You sure you don’t need a coffee?” He took two steps closer. She took two back.

  “No.” She grabbed her suitcase and stepped into the bathroom. Before she closed the door, she looked over her shoulder. “Is this normal?”

  “Now that you mention it. No.” His grin came on slow. “Normally, when I bring a woman breakfast in bed, she’s a lot nicer.”

  She frowned. “I mean, do you do personal wake-up calls and bring coffee to all the people you meet on your job? Aren’t you taking the protect-and-serve motto a tad to the extreme?”

  His smiled faded. “I’m just trying to make sure you stay alive. The guy after you is suspected of three murders now.”

  She nodded, recalling her dream where her mom said that Stan hadn’t been the one doing the killing. “So that’s all that’s going on?”

  He raised his coffee and sipped from the cup. His blue-green eyes stared at her through the steam. “What else could there be?”

  ~

  “So that’s all that’s going on?” He spent the entire time waiting on her to shower and telling himself that enough was enough. She was right. He was taking this too damn far. And it could backfire on him big time.

  But the moment she stepped out of the bathroom, his resolve took a hike. It was her eyes. Big and blue. It was her body. Soft and sexy. But it was the mere possibility that the same asshole who’d killed the two guys back at the other hotel could do the same to her that sealed the deal. He wasn’t backing down.

  He let his gaze move over her. The khaki pants and a pink sweater hugged her body in all the right places. His hands itched to reach around her waist and pull her against him. To feel her against him. Breathing in air that smelled like freshly showered woman, he envisioned
removing each article of clothing she wore and pulling her into the bed and getting acquainted with every naked inch of her.

  “Coffee now?” He held out her cup.

  She accepted it and pulled off the lid. A bit of steam rose from the cup as she put her lips to the edge. Taking a small sip, she glanced up at him. “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome.” He reached for the bag of donuts. “I just got plain glazed.”

  “That’s what I like.”

  He offered her the bag and she reached in and pulled one out.

  They sat on the bed and drank coffee and ate donuts that were still warm. He remembered last night, the comfortable place they’d slipped into, right before he’d fallen into the first real sleep he’d had in almost a month.

  “Sorry if I scared you this morning,” he said.

  She nodded. “I’m sorry I was grumpy.”

  The donut melted on Brit’s tongue. But he thought about something else he’d rather taste. Her. She licked her finger, then popped the little digit into her mouth, seemingly unaware of how sexy she looked. A flake of sugar clung to her bottom lip and he longed to lean down and taste it with his lips. His lower body tightened and the evidence of his arousal pressed against his zipper. He inhaled and tried to stop the blood from flowing south.

  She finished her donut, and he offered her another.

  “No. Thank you.”

  That flake of sugar still clung to the side of her mouth. He reached over and brushed it aside. Their gazes met and held.

  “Sugar,” he said, unable to look away.

  She blinked and turned away, but then she looked back. “I saw the news last night about the officer who was killed. The second one to be killed in the last month.”

  Brit’s donut lost its flavor, and the erotic images in his mind faded. He inhaled. “Yeah.”

  Concern filled her eyes. “Wasn’t he the same officer who came to my house?”

  He nodded. “Mike Anderson. Just a kid. I…hate it.” He dropped the rest of his donut in the bag and tossed it in the trash with last night’s dinner containers.