by Brenda Novak
A rueful smile curved her lips. “I usually consider myself lucky if I don’t run across him.”
“How often does that happen?”
“Not often. He seems to find me no matter what—is always watching.”
“Great. For once, his obsession will play in our favor.”
“And driving around town together is harmless enough,” she said in a voice that suggested she was mulling it over. “We should be able to go where we want.”
“Mommy?” The door handle jiggled as Jayden tried to come in.
Sadie jumped out of bed and started pulling on her clothes. “What, honey?”
“What are you doing?”
She shot Dawson a guilty look. “Just...cleaning.”
“Is Dawson cleaning with you?”
Obviously, he’d heard their voices. Dawson couldn’t help grinning as she said, “Yes, we’re...ah...folding clothes.”
There was a slight pause. Then Jayden said, “Can I come in?”
“Of course. Just a sec.”
Once they were both dressed and had made the bed, she took a stack of folded T-shirts out of the drawer before letting her son into the room.
Dawson thought Jayden would go straight to Sadie. He was still a little groggy from his nap. But he slipped past her and lifted his arms for Dawson to pick him up. “Can we get more ice cream?” he asked as Dawson pulled the boy into his arms.
“Not tonight, buddy. Maybe tomorrow, though.”
Sadie lifted her eyebrows as if to say, “What’s up? My son goes to you instead of me?”
Dawson winked at her, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything. This time his phone was ringing.
He pulled it out of his pocket and tensed as he saw the caller ID: Stanley DeWitt. He was out of time on his promise to bring Angela home. She’d been calling him crying the past few days, telling him seven was seven and asking him to come pick her up. He had a difficult time getting through those calls because he didn’t know what to tell her. The state was taking its sweet time, even though he’d called Robin Strauss to let her know how hard the wait was on his sister and that the delay was forcing him to break a promise.
“Is it Angela?” Sadie asked.
He nodded.
“Here, let me take Jayden so you can talk to her.”
Dawson let Jayden go to his mother as he sat on the edge of the bed and pushed the Talk button. “Hello?”
“You did it!” She spoke so loud he had to pull the phone away from his ear by a few centimeters. “You did it, Dawson, just like I knew you would. Megan says I can come home.” Someone spoke in the background, trying to calm her. “But only if I wait till Tuesday,” she added. “Not seven days. And not till Christmas. Just till Tuesday.”
That was still five days, but she seemed pleased, so he didn’t point that out. He wasn’t quite sure whether to believe her in the first place. “Are you certain of that?” he asked.
“Talk to Megan!”
The phone transferred and Megan came on the line.
“Is what Angela just told me true?” he asked.
“It is.” He could hear the warmth in her voice. “The paperwork came through this morning. I’m sure they’ll be calling to let you know once we get it back to them, but from what I saw, she’s set to be released into your custody early next week.”
“Wow.” He felt such relief he didn’t know what to say. He’d just come through another hard-fought battle—and won. First his freedom, then his sister’s. “That’s great.”
“You’ll be able to come get her, right?”
“Of course. I’ll be there as soon as she can leave.”
“Great. We’ll let you know when, exactly, we can release her on Tuesday.”
Sadie was standing in the doorway with Jayden, watching as he hit the End button.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I guess Ms. Strauss has finished her investigation.”
“And?”
“Angela’s coming home.”
She put Jayden down and crossed over to him. “That’s wonderful, Dawson. I’m so happy for you,” she said and, resting her hands on his shoulders, kissed his forehead.
He looked up at her in surprise. This was the first time she’d shown him any affection in front of her son. To him, that was significant. It also reminded him that he wasn’t done fighting. Maybe he’d secured his freedom and Angela’s, and was making strides toward finding the man who’d murdered his folks, but he still had to force Sly to let go of Sadie and Jayden. Then, even though he wouldn’t have his parents, he would have taken care of all the family he had left.
27
Sly couldn’t believe that Sadie had had the nerve to bring his boss—the chief of police, no less—to his house as some sort of enforcer this morning. He’d been fuming about it all day, could hardly think about anything else. It was amazing how, now that she had a little help, she believed she’d gained the upper hand. But she didn’t know him very well if she thought he’d ever let her get away with how she was behaving. He’d set her straight, couldn’t wait for the right opportunity to do exactly that. He’d been racking his brain all day, trying to figure out how best to accomplish it, but he hadn’t figured it out quite yet. He’d tried to put her at a disadvantage by telling her he planned to take Jayden for the weekend, but she’d actually seemed relieved. He hated the idea that having him sit home and babysit would only enable her to devote every minute of her time to Dawson...
The thought of that conversation made him even angrier, especially when he paired that with what she’d said to him in Lolita’s. She claimed she was finally enjoying sex—only, with someone else.
As Sly drove slowly down the main drag of Silver Springs, he eyed the citizens and drivers he saw on the road with an especially critical eye. The mood he was in, no one was getting away with anything.
He spotted a sleek red sports car pulling out of the gas station and recognized it as belonging to Monty Tremaine, a student this year at New Horizons, and flipped on his lights. Monty hadn’t done anything wrong that he could see, but Sly had never liked him. He’d run into him a time or two at the bowling alley, didn’t feel as if Monty had the proper respect for authority. The boy was too full of himself, too proud of his own status. Most of the students at the boys ranch didn’t even have a car while they were in Silver Springs, but Monty’s father was a movie exec in LA and had lots of dough. Monty’s convertible BMW cost far more than any car a kid should own. What had he ever done to earn anything, except give his parents enough trouble that they’d finally resorted to sending him to a school devoted to behavior control?
Once Monty spotted Sly’s cruiser and the lights flashing behind him, he pulled over at the edge of town. He was on his way back to the school, Sly decided, was headed in that direction. “That’s it, you little bastard. You’d better pull over.”
He felt a familiar rush of adrenaline as he parked behind the BMW, got out and approached the driver side. It bothered him that Monty hadn’t automatically rolled down his window, however. Sly had to wait while he found the button.
“Something wrong, Officer?” The boy looked bewildered—and none too pleased.
That he could be irritated by getting pulled over, instead of frightened, made Sly eager to put the fear of God in him. Who did he think he was, anyway? His father? Someone who mattered in the world?
“Driver’s license, registration and proof of insurance, please.”
Monty gaped at him. “What for?”
Sly didn’t answer, simply held out his hand to show that he could demand whatever he wanted without an explanation.
Monty sighed and reached over to the glove box. He handed Sly his registration and insurance card while he dug his wallet out of his back pocket so he could produce his dri
ver’s license.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” he asked.
Sly fixed the documents to his clipboard and used his flashlight to study them. “I’ll be right back,” he said and returned to his cruiser to run the boy’s information through the computer. He was hoping to find something he could legitimately cite Monty for—expired registration, lack of current insurance, even an unpaid parking ticket, if not something bigger—but everything seemed to be in order. No doubt his rich daddy had seen to that.
Still, this little jerk wasn’t going to drive off without some sort of citation, not with his disrespectful attitude.
After taking a few moments to jot down the boy’s name, address and other information, Sly walked back to Monty and handed him his registration, insurance card and license. “Here you are.”
The boy seemed confused. “So...can I go?”
Sly took his time filling out the rest of the ticket. “Not quite yet.”
Monty removed his hand from the gearshift, where he’d put it when he briefly thought he was free to leave. “Why not?”
“Why do you think?”
“I have no clue, man. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Sly eyed him with a measure of disdain. “You ran a stoplight back there.”
His eyes flared wide. “What are you talking about? I didn’t run any stoplight!”
“You sure did. Just after you came out of the gas station.”
“That’s not true. I saw you. I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to run a stoplight. I wasn’t speeding, either.”
Hearing such umbrage in the young man’s voice made Sly feel a bit better. “I saw you.”
“You couldn’t have seen me, because I didn’t run anything,” he argued. “I’m not going to take a ticket. I’ll fight it.”
“Feel free. But it’ll be a waste of time.” Sly smiled. “What judge is going to take your word over mine?”
Monty’s mouth dropped open. “Especially out here in the boondocks. Is that it?”
“Are you saying our judges are corrupt? I’ll make a note of your opinion, in case I see you in court.” Sly handed him the clipboard with the ticket attached. “Sign here.”
“I’m not going to sign that!”
“Would you rather I take you down to the station?”
“I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “What’d I do? Nothing!”
“You’re not admitting guilt by signing. You can always take it up with the judge, if you want.”
“Sure I can,” he grumbled and scribbled an “X” on the signature line.
“Have a nice evening,” Sly said and gave him the ticket before returning to his cruiser, where he slid behind the wheel. God, he loved his job. He was about to swing around and head back into town, to see if he couldn’t find someone else who deserved a little reminder of the power of the local police, when his cell phone rang. He hoped it would be Sadie. He always hoped it would be Sadie, but he wanted to hear from her now more than ever. He was still holding out hope that she’d plead with him not to take Jayden this weekend, or show some other sign that she’d rather he didn’t. Having Jayden for so long would only be fun if it bothered her.
It wasn’t Sadie, however. It was Dixie Gilbert, the only woman on the police force. She’d been calling him recently, wanting to hang out. He’d gone over there once and let her give him a blow job. She had a thing for him, had made that clear in the past few months, but he wasn’t interested in her. Although he didn’t mind letting her get him off when he didn’t have a better option, he couldn’t be seen with someone so overweight and unattractive. He could do better—much better.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” she said, her voice artificially husky. She was striving for sexy, but he found the affectation annoying.
“I’m on duty tonight,” he told her. “What’s up?”
Taken aback by the brusqueness of his response, she hesitated. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were busy. It’s not like there’s a lot going on in this town even when you are on duty. What, did I interrupt your doughnut break?”
“Is there a reason you called?” he asked.
He expected her to invite him over. She’d offered to make him dinner on three different occasions. So far, he’d only accepted her invitation to watch a movie late at night, and he’d parked down the street so no one would see his car. If the guys on the force thought he was sleeping with her, they’d tease him mercilessly. It wasn’t as if he’d stayed long, anyway. He’d had her blow him as soon as he possibly could, said he was too tired to stay longer and left. “No. I don’t want to upset you. Never mind.”
“What is it?” he pressed. “With what’s been going on in my personal life, I haven’t had the best day.”
“Well...I’m fairly certain that what I have to tell you will only make it worse, so...”
This piqued his interest. Apparently, she wasn’t about to issue another invitation to dinner, after all. “What is it?”
“It’s about your ex-wife.”
He almost corrected her. He and Sadie weren’t divorced yet and wouldn’t be until he decided to let her go. But he bit his tongue. He was getting tired of saying that, would have to prove it instead. “What about her?”
“She’s here, at The Blue Suede Shoe.”
“What’s she doing at the bar?”
“Dancing. With Dawson Reed. They’re here together—and are having a darn good time from the looks of it.”
He gripped the phone so hard the plastic dug into his fingers. “What do you mean by that?”
“They’re dancing about as close as two people can. Looks like she’s madly in love with him. A murderer. Who would’ve thought? Who goes from a cop to a criminal—and then flaunts it around town? She should be ashamed.”
“She isn’t in love with him. He’s messing with her mind, that’s all, making her think he can fix everything that’s wrong in her life. She’ll come around, get straightened out once it dawns on her that isn’t the case.”
“No, she won’t,” Dixie argued. “She’s gone, Sly, and she isn’t coming back. I think it’s time you let her go—and realize that there are other women out there who can make you happy. Haven’t you been through enough with her? I mean, let it end.”
Dixie was glad to see Sadie out with someone else, especially Dawson, Sly realized. She thought it would make him forget about his wife and start seeing her. “I gotta go,” he said.
She hesitated. Then, with a bit more determination, she said, “I’m heading home now and will be there all night, if you’d like to come by. Sometimes it’s easier to get over someone when you have someone else to hang on to, you know?”
He hit the gas pedal, peeled out and swerved into the road, narrowly missing a car coming from the opposite direction. He saw the panic on the driver’s face, but he didn’t care that he’d nearly caused an accident. “I’m not in the mood, Dixie. Not tonight.”
“So what are you going to do? Go home and pout? Drink some more? Word around the station is that you’re drinking too much as it is. People are starting to worry about you.”
“I don’t care what the ‘word’ is. What I do when I’m off duty is my own business. But I’m not going to drink tonight. I’m going over to the bar to knock some sense into Sadie. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Don’t, Sly. You need to let her go!”
“I’ll decide when it’s time for that,” he said and disconnected.
* * *
“I haven’t seen him,” Dawson said. “You ready to move on to another location?”
Sadie hugged him a little closer. “Stairway to Heaven” was playing—an old song, but a good one. She could’ve danced with him like this all night. They weren’t out just to have a good time, but she was having
fun in spite of that. She enjoyed being with him regardless of what they were doing. “Not yet.”
“I’d like to stay, too,” he said. “But we’ve been here for over an hour. If we want to gain Sly’s attention, we need to spread ourselves around.”
She noticed Dixie Gilbert coming back into the bar and frowned. “Maybe not.”
“What do you mean?”
“See that woman over there? The one with the short, dark hair?”
Dawson turned her as they danced so that he could take a look without seeming too obvious. “Yeah.”
“She’s on the force with Sly.” Sadie hadn’t thought much of seeing Dixie when they first came in. If Sly spoke of her, it was usually with contempt. He claimed the city had only hired her so that it wouldn’t come under fire for being sexist, that she was a terrible officer. But the loyalty Dixie had shown to Sly when Sadie went in to the station, and the way she was behaving tonight, as if she relished the idea of seeing Sadie out with another guy, made Sadie wonder if there wasn’t something between them in spite of what he’d said about her in the past.
“Unless Sly’s coming to meet her, I don’t see where that’s going to help us,” Dawson mused.
Neither did Sadie. But Dixie had left her seat at the bar, gone outside and returned a few minutes later, as if she’d gone out for a smoke. Except Dixie didn’t smoke. Sadie was thinking she might’ve made a call, might’ve told Sly what she’d been seeing at the bar.
Or was that assuming too much? Most of the patrons in The Blue Suede Shoe were keeping a wary eye on them. That trip outside could simply have meant that Dixie needed a breath of fresh air.
When Dixie paid her bill and gathered her coat, Sadie decided she must’ve been mistaken. “You’re right. It’s probably nothing,” she told Dawson. Just more of the usual bias against him. “Let’s go.”
As soon as Dixie saw them making their way over to the bar, she stopped and waited. “I’d get out of here, if I were you,” she said without preamble.