I dropped Angel off at her car, then went to Heart Mates and tried to find Gabe the conventional way. I called his house, cell phone, and pager, and left messages on his voice mail.
Nothing.
I killed the next couple of hours by trying to track down Roxy and my mom. No luck there, either. Then I worked on a new computer profile for Roxy. Once I found her, I’d get her to approve it and we’d run new matches. I wanted to find the right kind of man for Roxy. The new profile would match her with more mature and stable men—or so I hoped.
Done with that, Blaine and I closed up Heart Mates and I headed to Stater Bros. to pick up the essentials for Angel’s lingerie party tomorrow night. I stocked up on margarita mix, munchies, and a few other things we needed at the house, then headed for home.
I parked my car in front of our little house and got out, carrying a bag of groceries. Joel was sprawled on the floor playing a video game, while TJ did homework at the coffee table. “Hi, boys. Go get the rest of the groceries from the car, please.”
“Hi, Mom. Did you get ice cream?” Joel turned off the video game.
“Ice cream sandwiches.” I kicked off my black pumps and headed to the kitchen, with Ali running circles around me trying to sniff what was in the bag.
TJ strolled past me. “Got an A on my science report.”
I stopped and managed to grab the back of his T-shirt. “TJ! That’s great.” Shifting the bag of groceries in my arm, I hugged my son. “I’m so proud of you. You worked on that report a long time.”
His blue eyes lit up, and then he raced out to help Joel bring in the groceries.
Grandpa came in the kitchen from the hallway. “Hey, Sam, TJ tell you about his report?”
I smiled. “Yes, he did. All real casual-like, of course.” Joel came in with more groceries. “Mom, what’s for dinner?”
“Spaghetti. How did you do on your book report?”
“Got a B.” He fished out the ice cream sandwiches and put them away.
“Good, Joel.” I nodded and got a pan out to start the water boiling for spaghetti.
TJ came in with the last bag. “The news about Coach Chad is all over school.”
Dropping ground meat in another pan for sauce, I grabbed a paper towel to wipe my hands and looked at TJ. Chad had coached one of TJ’s teams and I’d been the team mom. “About Chad’s death?”
“Yeah.” He started folding the plastic grocery bags. “Are you investigating his murder, mom?”
I walked across the kitchen to him. “I’m looking into it for Janie, yes. TJ, are you all right?”
He looked up at me. “Mom, I haven’t even seen Coach Chad in a couple of years. It’s just that rumors have been going around about Coach for a long time. You know, how he left Janie for Josh’s mom.”
“Dara? You know her son?”
TJ smoothed the bags. “Yes. He’s at school. He’s quiet. I’d heard that Coach Chad got friendly with Josh and that’s how he met his mom. But, Mom, Josh is like—”
He looked up at me and I watched my smart, too-old-for-his-fourteen-years son struggle to put his feelings into words. I made myself stand still and give him time.
“Josh is sad, Mom. He doesn’t say much. I don’t think Chad was really being a friend to him. Not like Coach Rick would have been. I think Chad just used Josh to get to his mom or whatever.”
I got it. Maybe Josh had even said something to TJ about it. Being used to get into your mom’s bed was sick. I knew it ’cause a few men had done that with me. Be nice to the kid and Mom thinks the man is a knight in shining armor. “TJ, do you know Josh well?”
He shook his head. “Talked to him a few times at school. He doesn’t have many friends, Mom.”
I reached out and hugged TJ. “Thanks for telling me. Go ahead and finish your homework and I’ll have dinner ready soon.”
When the boys left, I went back to making the sauce, while Grandpa got two cups down and filled them with coffee. My thoughts centered on what TJ had said. I’d always thought that Dara set her sights on Chad. But what if it had been the other way around, and Chad persuaded her? What did that mean?
What did I even know about Dara Reed? She’d moved to Lake Elsinore a while back with her one son.
“Grandpa, do you think you could look around on the Internet, you know, with your connections, and see what you can find on Dara Reed?”
He handed me a hot cup of coffee. “Sure, Sam. I’ll get started right now. Maybe by the time you get home from looking for Gabe tonight, I’ll have some information.”
Gabe. He still hadn’t called me back. But Angel had shown me how to use her receiver to the tracking device she put on his truck. As soon as I got dinner done and the boys settled, Ali and I were going to find out just what Gabe was doing that was so important he couldn’t return my calls.
My plan was to find Gabe and surprise him, then demand answers. I counted on him being so impressed with my ability to find him, since he didn’t know about the tracking device, combined with my short skirt and deep V-neckline, to compel him to talk to me.
Okay, maybe the short skirt and plunging neckline were about my miffed pride over Gabe laughing at me.
Ali and I went by Gabe’s house first, just to make sure he wasn’t there. Ali recognized where we were and whined low in her throat, hoping we could stop and visit Gabe. “His truck is not in the driveway, Ali. He’s not home.” I glanced over at her. She had her nose pressed against the passenger-side window watching Gabe’s house slide by. “We’ll find him.”
I studied the screen of the GPS receiver while driving. It wasn’t much harder than talking on the cell phone and driving. Fortunately, the residential streets in Gabe’s neighborhood were empty. If I was using this right, it looked to me like Gabe was hanging around the Stater Bros. shopping center on Lake Street. He could be shopping.
Or he could be nosing around Chad Tuggle’s insurance office. Looking for what? It seemed weird to me that somebody wiped off Chad’s home computer to get rid of something, while others broke into Chad’s house looking for something. Was it all the same something? What did Dara hire Gabe for? I had to find out what Gabe was looking for.
One way to find out. I turned left on Broadway, then left on Grand Street, and went up to the signal to make a right on Lakeshore.
Gabe’s truck stayed in the same place on the receiver.
I went past the Machado Street stoplight and turned left into the Stater Bros. parking lot. I looked around for Gabe’s black truck and didn’t spot it. But I did see a thin beam of light moving around in Chad’s darkened office.
Bingo. Gabe was using a flashlight to snoop around. He probably parked in the alley behind Stater Bros. and the adjoining strip mall that held Chad’s office. I parked in front of the Stater Bros., where Gabe wouldn’t spot my car if he looked out Chad’s front window. I looked at Ali. “I know Gabe is your good buddy, but this time I want you to stay with me and be quiet. No more stunts like you pulled at Duncan’s Nursery today, okay?”
She shifted impatiently on her front paws.
I’d have to chance Ali not giving me away. I wasn’t going to be stupid and go in Chad’s dark office without her. The beam of light was gone now; either Gabe had turned it off, or he had moved back to the small kitchen area where I couldn’t see it.
I held my car keys in my hand. We both got out of the car and went up to the office. Crime-scene tape stretched across the door. I ducked beneath it and reached out to test the door.
It opened.
Briefly, I paused with my hand on the door. Why was it unlocked if Gabe went in the back way?
One way to find out. I touched the fake pager unit filled with defense spray that I had clipped to my skirt and eased the door open. I whispered, “Let’s go.” Ali followed me in. The glow of the parking lot lights bled into the office, barely outlining the shapes. No humans, just furniture.
The thought of Chad with his head bashed in and sprawled on the floor froze me. Where ha
d he been killed? I wondered. By his desk? I shook the thought off. I had to go on—to see if Gabe was here, and why.
I bent down and whispered, “Ali, sit and stay right here.”
She sat. My heart kicked up. I’d checked and double-checked Angel’s tracking device. I knew it worked because we’d tracked Gabe to Chad’s house with it.
Gabe was snooping around looking for something.
But my heart hammered. That damned answering machine message spooked me. What-ifs played in my brain. What if the killer . . .
Stop it, I told myself. I needed information from Gabe and I needed to tell him about the threat. I knew he’d tapped his sources to find out about Chad’s murder, and I was going to get that information from him. I needed to keep my kids and Grandpa safe. Getting a grip on my fear, I pictured the office in my head like a map and started in, walking softly toward the back.
The deeper into the office I went, the darker it became. The glow from the parking lot lights didn’t reach this far. Dark silence surrounded me, giving me that disconnected feeling.
I made it to the divider wall and stopped. My chest hurt and felt raw from my fear. A dull thud drummed in my ears. I checked my pager/defense spray hooked at my waist.
No sound except my breathing and the thudding in my ears. The faint sound of Ali’s steady pant reached me. That made me feel safer. Quickly I pictured the little kitchen in my head—a small square about two-thirds the size of Chad’s front office. The remaining third was a bathroom on my left, leaving most of the kitchen to my right. Green painted cupboards lined the wall directly to my right, then turned on an L shape where there was a stainless-steel sink next to a small white refrigerator. At least that was how the kitchen looked a couple of years ago. Plenty of cupboards to hide something, like money, in.
I held my breath, determined to find out what Gabe was looking for. I took a step into the dark kitchen.
A hand closed around my arm, yanked, and swung me around. I was stunned, a scream locked in my chest as my car keys flew out of my hand. My butt rammed into a countertop. Before I could move, a solid arm slammed into my neck, snapping my head back into a cupboard. I was unable to breathe; terror washed over me. I stared into the darkness, only able to make out the shape of a man.
A hard man.
The man who killed Chad? Was I going to die? Horrible fear washed a bile taste up the back of my throat. My two sons, TJ and Joel, they needed me. I couldn’t die.
A low, vicious warning growl cut through my terror. Relief swept over me. Ali!
In spite of the pressure against my windpipe, I croaked out, “My dog will kill you. She’ll—”
“Shaw?” The pressure on my windpipe eased.
Ohmigod. “Ali, down girl.” I called out. I couldn’t believe this. Detective Vance? Ali knew Vance, which was probably the only reason she hadn’t attacked him flat out without any warning.
The growling stopped.
“Let go of me, Vance.”
The pressure on my windpipe lifted completely. A light flashed on overhead.
I squinted through the sudden fluorescent glare to make sure it was Vance.
He stared at me with his hard-cut, lifeguard face. No dimples. In fact, he looked more tired than he had at the doughnut shop this morning. He had on tan pants and a black sweater, his usual casual elegance. He reached behind his back and pulled out a set of handcuffs. “Samantha Shaw, you have the right to remain silent—”
“You can’t be serious!” I pushed off the countertop. “You can’t arrest me! I didn’t do anything!”
He took another step toward me. “Anything you say can and will be used against you.”
Panic shoved against my breastbone.
He reached for my arm.
I twisted away to my right. “Vance!” I had my back to a small refrigerator. Ali sat down and watched this show with perked ears. She apparently didn’t see any real threat here. Having spent some time in the police-dog academy, she was used to handcuffs.
Vance moved fast, snapping one cuff around my left wrist. Before I could register that, he spun me around and snapped the other behind my back.
My God, he was arresting me! My mother would kill me! Cripes, what was I thinking? I had two sons to worry about. My mother was the least of my problems.
Then I pictured her reaction if I was arrested. No, Mom was my biggest problem.
Vance pressed in from behind me. “If you cannot afford an attorney—”
“Vance! Listen to me!” I rested my forehead against the cool white of the fridge. It hurt my bruise, but that didn’t seem important right now. Now that I was breathing actual oxygen instead of my own fear, I knew exactly what happened. “This is a mistake. I thought you were Gabe. He switched the tracking device.”
Vance turned me around so that I faced him. The usual gold flecks in his brown eyes look flat, like floating flotsam. He smelled of male frustration tinged with coconut suntan lotion. “Shaw, what the hell are you babbling about?” His gaze flicked up to my forehead. “Dammit, you’re hurt.”
“Nah, that’s not from you. Got that earlier from a client.” I felt my mouth twitch and knew I was on the verge of hysteria. I needed sleep and probably a new life. Oh, and a new boyfriend. My old one would be dead soon.
Vance’s mouth quirked up so that his dimples made an appearance. “A client?”
“Never mind. But I believe there’s a tracking device on your car.”
“What?”
Sure, why not confess all to the police? “It was on Gabe Pulizzi’s truck. I thought Gabe was in here and I came in to—” okay, maybe I should lie a bit, “—warn him that it’s illegal. But it turns out Gabe’s not here. No, it’s my favorite detective.” The sarcasm rolled off easily. “I bet Gabe is laughing his ass off.”
Vance’s brown eyes sharpened. “I smell trouble in paradise.”
I shrugged. “That’s because you’re a cop. You always smell trouble. Come on, Vance, you’re not going to arrest me.” I tried to inject confidence in my voice. Vance and I had an understanding—we agreed to blackmail each other, use each other, and dislike one another.
A change slid over Vance. His entire stance shifted from angry aggressive cop to—uh-oh. Heat flared to life in the gold chips in his brown eyes. Leaning in closer, his gaze skimmed down to my chest. With my hands cuffed behind me, my breasts were prominent in my low-cut, tight sweater. Okay, I’m a grown woman, a businesswoman, a mother of sons—I could handle a man.
But a cop with handcuffs?
My chest constricted like I’d been exercising. I sucked in a deep breath, then realized my mistake when his nostrils flared watching my breasts swell.
Vance dragged his gaze to mine. His voice dropped to a thick whisper. “I can see the outline of your bra.”
I was in big trouble. This was Gabe’s fault. He made me so damned vulnerable, and I hated being vulnerable. When I knew things were going well between us, I could handle the sizzle between Vance and me.
But Gabe was keeping secrets from me and protecting Dara’s skinny butt. He’d left me in the fishpond.
Vance and I were adversaries that used each other. For information. I ignored the hissing of my libido. “Get these cuffs off, Vance. This kind of abuse might work in the romances you write, but I won’t put up with it.” I threw in the romance stuff to remind him I knew of his secret life.
A sun-god grin carved out his dimples. Lifting his hands, he put them against the fridge over my head and leaned down. His black sweater pulled across his swimmer’s chest. “Ever read my books, Shaw? Of course you have. You always give them five stars for sensuality. I don’t need handcuffs to bring a woman bone-melting pleasure.”
My breath hitched in my throat while my bones tried to melt to his hypnotic suggestion. Caught up in his gaze, his words, some of the scenes Vance had written stirred in my head. He always pitted tough heroes against feisty, smart women. Those women knew what they wanted, and often as not, they wanted the hero.
They thought they were in control—right up until the sex scene. Heat and friction did things in my body.
“Ah, I see you remember, Shaw. You know I wrote those scenes. Now you’re wondering if I am that good of a lover in the flesh, aren’t you?”
I followed his sensual voice, thinking hot sizzling thoughts until my brain slipped in a little icy truth. Vance wrote romances. Most romances were written for women. Detective Logan Vance, aka R.V. Logan, knew the language of women. He was using that on me right now. “Damnit, Vance, knock it off. You can write porn for all I care. I’m more interested in finding who killed Chad than discovering if your dick is as big as your ego.”
His eyes hardened. “Turn around and spread your legs, Shaw. You are under arrest for tampering with a crime scene.”
Shit. He was arresting me.
8
Vance couldn’t be arresting me. This wasn’t happening.
But the angry throb in Vance’s voice told me otherwise. “Not only breaking into this active crime scene, but also a dead man’s house. What are the chances that the prints on the can of defense spray I found on Chad Tuggle’s carpet will match your prints? You are going to jail, Shaw.” He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face the refrigerator.
Shit, I’d completely forgotten about the defense spray. Rick had kicked it out of my hand. Pushed up against the refrigerator, I desperately tried to think. “I didn’t break in anywhere!” Technically true. The doors were unlocked both at Chad’s office and at home.
Vance stuck his foot between my shoes and pushed my legs apart. “No one breaks into my crime scenes and fucks with my case.” He ran his hands up under my arms then around beneath my breasts.
“I don’t have a gun in my bra!”
“Not enough room with all that silicone? Or is it saline?”
God, I could feel his fury. I was in real trouble here. “Vance, I’m helping out Janie. Call her; she knows I was in Chad’s house. She’ll vouch for me. The house goes to her as the kids’ guardian!” Panic wound through my words and pounded in my head.
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