Through His Heart (Mind's Eye Book 3)

by Deborah Camp

  “Tennessee?” Trudy asked, trying to visualize a map of the area.

  “It’s only a couple of hours drive from here.”

  “Oh, right. And what private investigator did you hire?”

  “I put his contact information on that sheet of paper I gave you. Charles Gassaway is his name. He hasn’t turned up a blessed thing and he’s cost us more than five thousand dollars so far.”

  Trudy almost choked on the sip of coffee she’d been taking. Grabbing a paper napkin, she dabbed at her lips. “What are the charges for?”

  “Expenses, he says. He’s submitted bills that show plane tickets, motels fees, meals, and things like that. Plus, we’re paying for his time, too.”

  “He’s not from around here?”

  “His office is in Memphis.”

  “If you could please tell him that I’ll be in touch with him soon, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Sure, but why do you need him?”

  “I don’t need him. I’d just like to talk to him about what he’s uncovered so far. We all need to be on the same page – know the same things – so that we don’t overlap each other.” She shook her head when Ginny approached with the coffee pot, but AmyLynn accepted another cup of it. “Do you know the cabin number Rachel was in?” Trudy asked when Ginny moved away again.

  “They don’t have numbers. The cabins are named after disciples. She was in Matthew.”

  That statement struck her as weird and Trudy pressed the napkin against her lips to forbid an inappropriate grin. She glanced down, busying herself with closing her purse. “So, your husband is okay with you hiring me?” The answering silence made her look up again to see AmyLynn’s apologetic smile.

  “I told him and he’s unhappy with me.” She lifted her shoulders in a quick shrug. “He doesn’t – our faith – well, we don’t believe in seers . . . the black arts.”

  “The black arts?” Trudy repeated, stung by the description.

  AmyLynn’s brown eyes softened along with her voice. “I believe in you because I want to believe. I must believe that someone can help me find my baby. I’ve read about you – you and Levi. Y’all have helped the police find murderers and other evil-doers. I want to believe that you can find this devil who took my angel. I prayed on this night after night, day after day, and Levi’s name and then your name kept popping into my head. I do believe that God has led me to you.” She reached across the table and gripped Trudy’s hand tightly, almost painfully. “You’ll do your best for me?”

  Trudy nodded, not breaking gazes with her. “I will. I promise you. I might need to meet people who are close to you and your girls – people who work with you.”

  “Oh. Surely.”

  “Great. Well, I should be going.” She slipped out of the booth and shook hands with AmyLynn.

  “God bless you,” AmyLynn said, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll pray for you, too.”

  “Thanks.” Trudy edged out of her embrace, feeling awkward and conspicuous – two feelings she loathed. As she walked out of the café, she felt every eye on her as if she were wearing a big neon sign that flashed Dark Arts Goofball.

  ###

  “How’d it go with the police?” Trudy asked as Levi buckled himself into the car seat beside her. “Were they helpful?”

  “No. All they know is what Cotton’s sheriff has told them and that’s little to nothing.” He swept a hand through his hair, shoving the black strands off his forehead. “The investigation is being spearheaded by the FBI, but Cotton and Tiptonville’s Lake County Sheriff’s Department are providing manpower.”

  “Tiptonville?”

  “That’s Reelfoot Lake territory.” He sent her a little smirk. “Lucky for you, I’m confident I can lay my hands on a summary of what the FBI has uncovered so far.”

  By the purring tone of his voice and sensual smirk, she eyed him suspiciously. Just what had he been up to? In a pair of dark wool slacks, gray shirt, and black and dark gray plaid pullover sweater, she had no doubt that he’d been turning some heads and fueling some sex fantasies. “And how will you get a copy of an FBI report?”

  His smirk took on an ‘I’ve got a secret’ shading. “Let’s just say I have a fan in the Tennessee FBI office.”

  Trudy gripped the steering wheel tighter and clamped down on the seething possessiveness that momentarily rose within her like a cobra reading to strike. It was with great effort that she managed to speak in a level, if somewhat strained voice. “A female fan?”

  He actually laughed under his breath.

  The cobra struck. “I wonder how you’d react if I practiced the same tactics on one of the male agents?” She saw the quick turn of his head in her periphery vision and felt the slam of his narrowed gaze. Take that, Wolfe! Trudy turned the car onto the highway that led to the RV park.

  “Watch yourself, Trudy.”

  She widened her eyes in affront and let go of a short, harsh laugh. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No.” He clamped his teeth on his lower lip for a few seconds as if he were holding back some heated words. “Baiting me is a dangerous game.”

  “Throwing threats at me and flirting with other women is also a dangerous game,” she said, lashing out again.

  “I’m not playing this game. Not with you.” Anger bled through his softly spoken words. He opened his notebook, switched it on, and ran his thumb across the screen, perusing for specific information. “Several churches formed search parties, along with the state troopers, park rangers, Tiptonville sheriff’s office, and the FBI. They’ve covered the whole lake and there are a lot of nooks and crannies in and around it.”

  “You’ve been there before?”

  “No, but I’ve read about it.”

  “So have I. Some of the pictures of it on the Internet are spooky looking.”

  “We could go there before we head for Tulsa. It’s not that far from here.” He closed the notebook.

  “Okay. They’ve also hired a private detective out of Memphis . . . oh, what was his name?”

  “Gassaway. Charles Gassaway.”

  “The police told you that?”

  “I hear he hasn’t been productive.”

  She didn’t miss his non-answer to her question and she had a good idea of why he had evaded it. He’d been researching this case on his own and he wasn’t ready to admit it to her. “Gasaway hasn’t turned up a blessed thing, according to AmyLynn.”

  “AmyLynn is it? You don’t call her Mrs. Comfort?”

  “No. And she doesn’t call me Ms. Tucker.” The KOA park came into view and Trudy pulled in and parked the car behind her motorhome. “Anything else you want to tell me about the case?”

  “No.”

  Her irritation with him had gone from boiling to simmering, but his terse answer fired it up again. “But you’ll share what you know with me eventually, right? When you trust that I’m ready to receive it?”

  He slammed his hand down on the dashboard, making her jump. “What’s your point?” His tone was whip-sharp.

  She switched off the engine and shifted to face him, refusing to be intimidated by his outburst. “Why be cagey with me? It’s obvious that you’ve been poking around in this case probably before I became aware of it. So, if you have some facts or hunches about it, tell me.” She squinted at him. “You’re such a Scorpio. They’re notorious for hording little secrets.”

  “Oh, for Chrissake!” He plunged his fingers through his hair again. “Don’t tell me that you believe in that astrology crap. I’m not being secretive or cagey. I know what I know because I’ve spoken to the police and I read newspapers.” His gaze sliced her. “I don’t want to have this ‘trust’ debate with you again. And I sure as hell don’t want to hear you talk about coming on to other men! You know what that does to me. I feel like . . . like . . . oh, fuck it! You make me crazy, Tru.” When he looked at her, she caught the glint of chagrin in his eyes. He shoved open the car door. “Let’s hook the car up to the tow dolly so that we can get the he
ll out of here.”

  “Hey, you started this!” She swung out of the car and tromped after him. “You’ve been putting the moves on another woman. You just confessed it to me!”

  “Hey!” He pivoted sharply, pointing a finger at her. “I was friendly with someone to ask for a favor. To help you. I smiled, I complimented, I made eye contact. That’s all.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen you in action,” she said, stopping beside him at the back of the RV and propping her hands on her hips. “When you turn it on, you can make a woman feel as if she’s the only female in the whole, freakin’ world. You make her want to climb you like a tree. I’ve been the recipient. I know your ‘that’s all’ is ‘all that.’”

  “Well, sweetheart, I’ve been your recipient and I’ve seen you in action. The blushing cheeks, the flustered, soft laughter, the way you lift your chin like a haughty, little witch, and the way those green eyes of yours can strip a man bare and make him think if he doesn’t taste you in the next minute he’s going to explode.”

  She stared at him, at a loss for words. That’s how he saw her? A femme fatale? Seriously?

  He held up on hand in a “stay put” motion. Then he strode away, unlocked the RV door, and went inside. Trudy didn’t move – not because she’d been silently ordered to, but because his description of her had rendered her temporarily speechless and immobile. As the seconds ticked by and she could hear him rummaging in the RV, a smile billowed in her heart and floated up to claim her lips. She shook her head, finding it disarmingly sweet and incredibly flattering that her gorgeously handsome lover thought she could work feminine voodoo magic on any male who crossed her path.

  She heard his boots crunching on the gravel a few seconds before he stepped in front of her, that telltale muscle fluttering away in his jawline. Why was he so tense and why were his eyes glittering darkly like that?

  “Before we go back to Tulsa, I want you to wear something for me.”

  She drew her brows together as visions of a skimpy maid’s uniform and crotchless, red lace panties bombarded her. “What have you done?”

  His brows shot up. “Nothing illegal, I assure you.”

  She directed her attention to his hands, looking for a package or gift bag and noticing that he was holding something, but his long fingers concealed it. “What’s that?”

  He brought it up slowly to her eye level. A blue box. A jeweler’s box. A Tiffany jeweler’s box. Just big enough for a ring. Trudy staggered back a step and might have turned and darted away if Levi hadn’t reached out to grasp her upper arm and hold her in place. Her heart exploded in her chest, releasing giddiness. She had to press her lips together to keep from giggling hysterically.

  “Open it.”

  She shook her head, wishing someone would pinch her. This could not be happening. Levi Wolfe was not holding a ring case out to her. No freaking way! Was he proposing to her? A silvery thrill shot through her and she forgot to breathe for a few moments.

  “Trudy?”

  Realizing that she was slowly shaking her head, Trudy lifted her chin and told herself to get a grip. She was allowing her imagination to run away with her. He’d probably bought her some earrings. “It’s not Christmas and it’s not my birthday.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll open it.” He flicked up the lid with his thumb. Sunlight speared and was captured by the pear-shaped diamond surrounded by dark blue sapphires. “I want you to wear this for me, Tru.”

  Her breath whistled down her throat. Oh, dear. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. Too fast. They were moving way too fast. “I can’t wear that.” She swallowed a ball of nerves. “It’s an engagement ring. From Tiffany’s!”

  He looked from her to the ring and back to her. “Correct. So, why won’t you wear it?”

  She huffed out a breath of exasperation. “We aren’t ready to be engaged, Levi. Not by a long shot. I don’t know why you’d think—. Wait.” Realization zipped through her rattled brain and brought everything into clear, sharp, agonizing focus. “Oh, crap. My dad talked to you, right?” The flicker of discomfort in his eyes and the ticking of that muscle in his jawline gave her the answer. Her heart sank a little at the realization that he’d been coerced into the proposal. “That’s what this is all about. Daddy gave you a ‘talking to’ and you’re trying to appease him.” She pushed the ring box holding the ridiculously huge diamond ring away from her and toward him. “Not going to happen, Wolfe.”

  “Your father made me reevaluate our circumstances.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  His eyes darkened, warning her of another approaching storm. “It means, you cried when you told your parents that we were living together. You cried, Trudy. Why didn’t you tell me that moving in together upset you?”

  It felt as if the world trembled beneath her feet. Why did Daddy have to tell him about that? Now she had to try to make him understand. “I wasn’t upset about moving in together,” she said, haltingly. Her feelings about this were – muddled. While she loved living with him, there was a tiny part of herself that wished for more. “If I hadn’t wanted to move in, I wouldn’t have. I’m a grown woman and I make up my own mind. I cried when I told them about it because I . . . well, I knew they’d be disappointed in me and I’ve always hated to disappoint them.” She saw his Adam’s apple slide up and down his tanned throat when he swallowed deeply. “It had nothing to do with you, Levi.”

  “The hell, you say. You were ashamed to tell your parents that you’d moved in with me.”

  “We moved in together,” she corrected him, although it did seem more like she’d moved in with him. “I told you that living with a man who isn’t my husband isn’t something I ever thought I’d do, but we all change.”

  He stared pointedly at the box he held. “Take the ring. Wear it for me. Wear it for us.”

  “It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Why not?”

  “You were coerced into it!” In a pique of frustration, she popped her fist against his solid shoulder. “Engagement is a contemplation of marriage, not something to appease parents.”

  He shrugged. “We’re contemplating. Nothing horrible about that, is there?”

  “Nothing at all . . . except that we’re not!” She shook her head at him in pure exasperation. “You should talk to Dr. McLain about this.”

  He glowered at her. “Wanting you to wear my ring isn’t a mental or emotional problem, Trudy.”

  She winced inwardly, realizing she’d tread on some tender feelings. Noting his lowered brows and tensely set mouth, she told herself to back off and try a different tack.

  “You wouldn’t like being engaged, Levi. An engagement would open us up to all kinds of uncomfortable questions. People will ask when we’re getting married, where, what I’m wearing, who will be in the wedding party, who will be invited, and on and on.”

  “You sound as if you’ve gone through this before.”

  “I have.” She laid a hand against his chest to reassure him. “With my brother and sister. Being engaged is crazy! You don’t want to go there. No matter what my dad told you, I’m fine with where we are right now. I don’t need anything else.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  His simple statement rocked her back on her heels. She stared at him, trying to figure out what he thought he could gain from . . . Was that a possessive glint in his eyes? Oh. Oh! Suddenly, she remembered his saying he thought it was time everyone knew that she belonged to him. “You want to stake your claim! You want to brand me!” She popped him again on the shoulder, putting some sting into it this time. “You ratfink!”

  “R-ratfink?” He blinked slowly at her as a grin tipped up the corners of his mouth. “What decade did you yank that one out of?”

  “My mother says it and it suits this situation and you! Don’t change the subject!”

  “The subject, you little beatnik you, is an engagement. If that involves branding you, then okay. That’s part of it.” He spread one hand across the fro
nt of his sweater and her gaze was drawn to the onyx ring he wore on his middle finger. It had belonged to his uncle – his mother’s brother, whom he’d never met – in life. He’d talked to his uncle’s spirit in true Levi fashion. “I confess. I like the idea of other men seeing a rock on your finger and staying the hell away from you.”

  She tore her gaze away from his ring and the memories it had stirred. “That’s preposterous! I’m supposed to wear an outward sign and you – what will you wear to show women that you’re taken? I’ll tell you. Nothing! How’s that fair?”

  He slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her up against him. “That’s just the way it works. Give it a rest, witchy woman. You know I’m going to win this round.” His mouth covered hers in a hot, tongue-plunging, erotic attack on her senses. The kisses went on and on until she moaned in surrender. He painted her throbbing lips with the tip of his tongue. “What the hell are you worried about, Tru?” he murmured against her mouth and then kissed her cheek, her chin, just below her ear. “You’re the only woman who gets me so hard I’m in a constant state of arousal when you’re near. You’re the only woman I want to fuck standing up, sitting down, lying in bed, on the beach, in the yard, on the dining room table, and anywhere else I can get at you. You’re it for me, Trudy Tucker. The first time I slid my cock inside you, you put a lock on it. I was yours then. I’m yours now. I’ll be yours tomorrow and the day after and after and ever after.” He bit her earlobe, then gave it a lick, making her tremble.

  “You never fight fair,” she whispered, her heart full to bursting and moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes.

  “Wear the ring.” He took the ring out of the Tiffany blue case. Holding it in front of her, he moved it just enough for the sunlight to make it sparkle outrageously. “If you refuse, what am I going to tell your parents? That I asked you, that I bought you a ring, and you said no? What’s that say about our relationship? Will you humiliate me like that? Will you let them think that living together is enough for you when you could have a real commitment from me?”