by Gerri Hill
“If Leon kept it a secret from you, then they must have had something on him,” Kayla said.
“When Leon refused to help them, they planted drugs in his apartment, then did a fake bust.”
“So if they had him, why did they come to you?”
“I was working a homicide. Leon’s cousin told him who’d shot this kid during a drive-by at a bus stop. My investigation was getting in their way, apparently.” She put her wineglass down. “Anyway, long story short, we were doing a joint bust. I’d get my guy and they’d get theirs. Leon wasn’t supposed to be there. I’d told him to stay away.” She met Kayla’s gaze across the table. “They’d told him he had to be there. They needed him to ID their guy.”
Kayla reached over and covered her hand with her own. “Leon got caught in the crossfire?”
Murphy nodded. “It was pretty much chaos from the beginning. Shots were coming from all directions. This guy was running and I went after him. I yelled for him to stop. When he turned around, he had a gun. That’s all I saw.” She swallowed. “Four people died that night. And I shot Leon.”
“I’m so sorry,” Kayla whispered.
Murphy looked away from Kayla, afraid that the tears she’d kept hidden would surface. “He was…well, over the years, we’d become friends.” She slowly turned back to her, meeting her eyes again. “Not friends in the sense that we hung out or anything, but we had a mutual respect for each other that had evolved. I knew about his family, his life. He knew about mine. We talked. It wasn’t always just business.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “That’s the main reason I left Houston. I couldn’t do the job anymore. I felt like I was killing myself by being there. Once I made the decision to leave, well, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I only knew I wanted to slow down, I wanted things to be sane. I was tired of working homicides.” She smiled slightly. “So I wanted to go somewhere where they hadn’t had a murder in seven long years.”
Kayla smiled too. “Yes. And here we are.” Then her smile faded. “Do you still blame yourself?”
“As opposed to blaming the FBI? I’m the one who pulled the trigger, not them.” She picked up her wineglass again. “I’ve accepted it. I’ve made peace with myself, I guess. He had a gun in his hand. I shot. I didn’t know it was Leon. Leon wasn’t supposed to be there. So I’ve made peace with myself. Am I over it?” She shook her head. “No. I think it’ll probably stay with me for a very long time.”
“Did you come here right away?”
“It happened in March. I started here in mid-July,” she said.
“So it’s still very recent. I’m sure your emotions are still raw over it.” She smiled gently. “I won’t bring it up again. If you feel the need to talk about it, though, I’m a good listener.”
Murphy nodded. “Thanks.”
Kayla stood up. “Let me check on dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
They decided to pass on opening the red wine, both choosing a bottled water instead. Kayla put a heaping pile of the casserole on a plate and handed it to her. She stabbed a fork into it even before sitting down.
“Oh, yeah. This is delicious,” she said as she swallowed her first bite. “I’ll share the leftovers with you.”
“Thanks. I was going to try to sneak out with some anyway,” Kayla said as she joined her at the table.
“I don’t like to cook, but it’s more about the fact that I don’t know how to cook,” she said. “My mother wasn’t a good cook, even by her own admission. My grandmother, that was a different story, but she was old school. I remember staying with her and she’d have this old crock by the stove, full of lard.” She shook her head. “Disgusting to think about now, but she’d get a spoon and scoop some out and plop it in the pan, then fry whatever she was having that day. I was a kid and all I knew was that it was delicious. No way I’d eat that today.”
“Does she still cook that way?”
“No. That was back when my granddad was still alive. They had a farm, and they butchered a pig a couple of times a year. That’s where the lard came from.” She shook her head. “I’m sure that contributed to his early death. Now, instead of bacon and eggs every morning, she does the oatmeal thing.”
“I hate oatmeal.”
“Yeah, me too. Kinda slimy.”
Murphy took a big swallow of her water, wondering a bit about Kayla’s personal life. So far, she’d offered very little. She thought asking about her ex-husband—who still lived in town—would be a safe subject.
“So…you’re really friends with your ex-husband’s wife?”
Kayla smiled, laughing lightly. “Friends with both of them, yes. Kevin and I were best friends in high school, only we didn’t call each other that. At the time, it seemed like a natural progression to start dating. It wasn’t until after we were married that we realized—well, me particularly—that being together as lovers was a huge mistake.”
“You were young?”
“Eighteen and right out of high school. To his credit, he was very understanding, even though at first, it was a little strained around the apartment. We talked though. Honestly, sincerely, no beating around the bush. I mean, we were kids still, but we always had this more grownup relationship between us.”
“So he came back to Sawmill Springs and you stayed.”
“Yes. And we kept in touch, despite how awkward it was at first.” She smiled. “I did refrain from going to his wedding though.”
“Is she from town?”
“No. He commuted to college at Sam Houston and he met her there. She’s really nice and I get along fine with her. There’s no reason not to. I have no designs on Kevin in the least and I’m certainly not a threat to her.”
“I think it’s great that you remained close.”
“What about you? Any ex’s that you’re still close with?”
“Well, first, there would have to be an ex to begin with.”
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me you were one of those cops who was married to the job?”
“Afraid so.” She shrugged. “I mean, I dated here and there, but certainly nothing that would be considered a long-term relationship. I don’t think I was very good at it.”
“Dating?”
“Yeah, I had a hard time leaving work behind. I rarely gave my full attention to my date. I can remember times when we’d be having dinner and I’d be pretending to listen to a particular story all the while I was going over evidence in my head and inventing suspects where there were none.”
“Yes, that does make for a bad date.” Kayla smiled and wiggled her eyebrows teasingly. “I don’t get the impression that you’re distracted tonight, though, so thank you for that. You’ve been very attentive.”
Murphy had a difficult time swallowing the bite she’d just taken. What did Kayla mean by that? Was it an innocent statement or was she flirting again? Well, if Kayla wanted to play that game, Murphy was willing, even if she thought it was a very—very—bad idea to be flirting with a straight woman.
“Of course I’m attentive. You’re a beautiful woman. What else is going to hold my attention?” She was surprised by the slight blush on Kayla’s face. “As a bonus, you’re a very good cook.”
“Thank you.” Their eyes held. “For both compliments.”
Yes…very bad idea, she thought as she struggled to find her way out of Kayla’s blue eyes.
After taking a second helping of the casserole—much smaller portions than the first—they shared kitchen duty. The old house didn’t have a dishwasher so Murphy washed while Kayla dried. The leftover casserole had been evenly divided, and she put hers in the fridge. Kayla’s was on the counter.
“I had a good time,” Kayla said as she was getting ready to leave. “It was fun to cook and I enjoyed spending time with you. Glad we had a chance to talk.”
Murphy nodded. “Me too. It was nice to have company. We’ll have to do it again.”
“Football season starts in two weeks. I’ll start planning my
first spread,” she said with a smile. “Spicy wings, maybe.”
“Oh, yeah. Let’s start with that.”
They stood at the front door, a little twilight still left in the sky negating the need for the porch light. Murphy shoved her hands in her pockets and Kayla shifted her leftovers from one hand to the other. With the briefest of nods, she turned to go. Then she stopped and turned back around. Murphy wondered at Kayla’s indecision, but she didn’t have to wonder long. Kayla stepped closer, hugging her quickly.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she pulled away. “See you tomorrow.”
Murphy stood there, speechless, as Kayla walked down the sidewalk and to her car. She stood there long after the taillights of Kayla’s car disappeared down the street.
“God…I wish she wasn’t straight.”
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning, as Kayla was putting on her uniform, her mind drifted back to last night. A hug? Really? What had she been thinking?
Well, she hadn’t been thinking sanely, obviously. It was just that Murphy had looked so vulnerable, standing there in the shadows with her hands tucked into her pockets. She looked like she needed a hug and Kayla had been unable to resist. Yes, she found her attractive. Yes, she enjoyed spending the evening with her. Yes, she hoped they became friends. And the hug? Was it inappropriate? Perhaps. They certainly didn’t know each other well enough for hugs. At least Murphy wasn’t shying away from her subtle flirting.
“Flirting…right,” she said with a roll of her eyes. She was so out of practice in that game she was surprised Murphy had even noticed her attempt at it, however slight.
Today was a new day, though, and it was back to their so-called murder investigation. She hoped her father had come to some sort of a decision. They should be scouring financial records, phone records and credit card receipts of the four men involved. That’s what they should be doing in their attempt to locate the common denominator, which she assumed would be the mysterious Mr. X. Maybe Murphy had some contacts in Houston she could call in for a favor. First things first…they needed warrants, and the only person to go to Judge Peters for that would be her father. So without his blessing, they were doing little more than treading water.
She hated treading water…waiting for the next victim to surface. Because this time, that victim could be her uncle. Doing prison time for drug trafficking was a whole lot better than being dead, regardless of what her father might think.
She pulled into the back of the station, not sure whether to praise or curse her luck—Murphy was just getting out of her truck. And damn, but did she look good in a uniform or what? She pulled in beside her and Murphy waited, leaning against the side of her truck while she parked.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile as she got out. “Perfect timing.”
Murphy nodded. “I’m used to starting my shift at six so getting here after seven feels like I’m slacking.”
“I see you went back to the uniform too,” she said, trying not to be too obvious as she looked her over. “I haven’t spoken to my dad yet. I don’t know what’s on the agenda today.”
“Remember when this thing first started and he put the two of us on the case?”
She nodded. “Right. You were supposed to be the lead investigator.”
“Uh-huh. So how receptive do you think he’d be to requesting a warrant? We’ve got to start digging into their activities.”
“I know. I was thinking the very same thing. Financials, phone records, credit cards. We should already be deep into it by now.”
“So?”
“Let’s talk to him. We need to get back on point with this.”
“Good. I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
She stopped walking. “I know this whole thing is unorthodox. My uncle being involved complicates matters. At the end of the day, though, I’m certain that my dad—the chief—will do the right thing.” God…she hoped so anyway.
Her phone rang just as they reached the back door. “Speak of the devil,” she murmured. “Hey…what’s up?”
He didn’t bother with pleasantries on this early morning. “Where are you?”
“Walking inside the station. Where are you?”
“On my way to a crime scene.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, glancing at Murphy, who was listening.
“Goddamn, Kayla, this thing’s unraveling faster than I can get a grip on it,” he said, and she recognized the distress in his voice.
“What now?”
“Got two bodies out off Mason Road—down by the swimming hole.”
“Two?”
“Male and female. Call went in to the sheriff’s department. Sheriff Ramsey just called me. Nothing positive yet on the ID, but the guy who found them, he said it’s Floyd Niemeyer and his wife.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Where’s Murphy?”
“She’s here.”
“Okay, then you two get out here. You remember where it is?”
“Where Mason Road crosses Mill Creek? Yeah, I went there enough times as a teenager, I should remember.”
“Meet me there.”
She grabbed Murphy’s arm as she was going inside, stopping her. “Two bodies: the mayor and his wife, most likely,” she said as she pulled Murphy back outside.
“Jesus…not at their house, I hope. Because we—”
“No, no. Out at Mill Creek. I don’t know anything else. He said we should meet him there.”
“Outside of the city limits?”
“Yes. Sheriff’s department got the call.”
“So we’re not the only ones involved anymore. Harder to keep a lid on it all.”
“My dad and Sheriff Ramsey are tight. I’m certain they’ll agree on whatever course of action we take. They’ve got a good working relationship. And knowing my dad, what we learned from Uncle Ned won’t be shared with Ramsey just yet.”
“I hope Earl knows what he’s doing. This could all end up biting him in the ass.”
“I know,” she said with a nod of her head. “I doubt he’s worried about that right now.” She stood between her car and Murphy’s truck. “I’ll drive. I know the way.”
“We’re in uniform,” Murphy said. “We should be in a patrol car.”
Kayla nodded. “Yeah, okay.” There were only two still in the lot. It would be quicker to take her car, but Murphy was right. They were in uniform, not plainclothes.
“Be right back,” Murphy said as she jogged into the station, presumably to get the keys and a radio for each of them. She followed her progress until she disappeared inside the station, then she turned away with a sigh. Now was so not the time for her libido to be kicking in. After her affair with Jennifer ended, she never even looked twice at another woman. She was simply happy to be single again, happy to lose the constraints that the relationship had put on her. She had no desire to date, had no need for intimacy. She was happy and free. But damn if Murphy—looking so sexy in her uniform—didn’t stir something within her. She sighed again. Now was so not the time.
When Murphy came back, she tossed the keys at her with a smile. “You can still drive, hotshot.”
Kayla caught them in one hand, returning her smile. “Thank you. I’m quite familiar with the old swimming hole.” She got inside. “Or did Tim take you out that way?”
“No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s Mill Creek. It runs, oh, I don’t know, six or seven miles outside of town. The creek bottom is where it flows under Mason Road. Upstream is a nice swimming hole. It used to be private property, but as kids, we all went there,” she said, remembering many a trip with Kevin when she was in high school.”
“So you were a trespassing little deviant when you were young, huh?”
Kayla laughed. “On both sides of the bridge, there were turnouts,” she said. “It was just a creek on the downstream side, but upstream, the Pattersons owned it. Kids used to crawl through the fence there, but by the
time I started going, the fence was gone and a make-do road went right along the creek. It was definitely a local hangout, even for families trying to escape the summer heat. But the Pattersons feared that someone would drown and they’d get sued, so they sold that strip of land to the county, making it public. That happened the summer after I left town,” she said, remembering how much fun it had been to sneak onto the property. She wondered if, now that it was legal, it had lost some of its appeal.
“So it’s like a park?”
“It’s like a park that no one keeps up. There are no amenities, if that’s what you mean. I think they put a trash barrel back there, that’s about it.”
She was actually surprised she remembered the route. A couple of small twisting and turning roads took her to Mason Road, a narrow dirt road that crossed the creek and eventually hit the paved county road to the north, which would take you up on Braden’s Hill. God, that brought back memories; she and Kevin parking, pretending to watch the moon as they kissed and fumbled around like the teenagers that they were.
“I hope you know how to get out of here because I’m completely lost,” Murphy said.
“If we stay on this road, there’s a great spot to go parking up on Braden’s Hill,” she said, giving Murphy a wink. That comment was met with a shocked stare, and she silently scolded herself. She really, really needed to stop flirting with Murphy.
When they approached the creek bottom, flashing lights from no less than four sheriff’s deputies’ cars greeted them. Other than her father’s patrol car, the only other vehicle there was an old Chevy truck with an assortment of fishing gear on the back. It must belong to the guy who found the bodies. She was surprised they hadn’t sent him on his way already. Unless, of course, he was buddies with—or even a relative of—one of the deputies, which was a very good possibility.
She parked behind her father’s car on the shoulder of the road. There was a sheriff’s deputy to direct traffic, in case a car or truck came through. Chances of that were slim as Mason Road wasn’t exactly a thoroughfare. More likely, word had gotten out and some curious onlookers might swing by.