Dust Up with the Detective

by Danica Winters

  “I don’t think this is the same thing. It’s just normal politics—with a touch of nepotism.”

  “Oh, nepotism...” he said, rolling the word over his lips. “That never complicates a situation.”

  She chuckled. “Regardless, I’m glad to have you around. Get a fresh perspective on all this.” Her cheeks warmed as she thought about all the other reasons she liked having him around.

  His sexy grin returned, as if he could read her mind.

  She forced her thoughts back on the case. “As for what we’re looking for, I filed the search warrant so we could locate your brother’s financial and mining records. I thought that would be a strong place to start our work.” She moved her weight from foot to foot as she tried to look at anything besides his smile. “Do you know where we could find them?”

  He walked over to the pullout bed and lifted up the end. Packed underneath the metal frame were boxes overflowing with paperwork. “The last time I was here, he had some stuffed in the bathroom cabinets, as well,” he said, pointing toward the only other room in the small space.

  Blake grabbed one of the boxes from under the bed and slid it out to the middle of the floor. There, on the top of the papers, was a letter from the county.

  “Hey, take a look at this,” she said, picking it up and reading its contents. “It looks like your brother has a tax lien.” She handed him the certificate. “I think we have a clue as to why he may have wanted to commit suicide.”

  Chapter Seven

  The word suicide left an ashy taste in Jeremy’s mouth as he tried to swallow what Blake was saying. Robert wouldn’t have committed suicide over some property tax lien. He wasn’t the kind to roll over and just take a hit like that. He would have fought long and hard to protect what he had always called his “little corner of heaven.”

  He stared at the paper in his hand. According to the paperwork, the tax lien certificate was supposed to go to auction if his back taxes weren’t paid. He looked at the date the letter had been issued. Three weeks ago. No doubt his brother had been worried about some company buying his lien and foreclosing on him.

  It was just strange that his parents hadn’t mentioned Robert’s financial trouble. Robert must have been keeping it from them. Either he had the money and had intended on paying, or he had been trying to get it—without going to them. Maybe they were his last resort.

  Jeremy shook his head. It didn’t make sense. Something didn’t feel right. “Let’s keep looking. Maybe we can find more that will help us make sense of this.”

  Blake bent down. Her blond hair had started to wiggle loose from her tight ponytail, and a few stray locks fell into her face, making her look soft, touchable. For a moment he considered pushing the hair back from her face, but if he got that close again, it was hard to say what she would do. After what had happened between them in the mine, it was likely that she would get upset—and he couldn’t risk his chance at having a hand in solving his brother’s case.

  Family came first, no matter how badly he wanted Blake...or how badly he had wanted her ever since they were in high school.

  She pushed the hair out of her face, annoyed. “Your brother needed a better filing system,” she said, pulling a stack of papers out of the box and setting them on the floor.

  The hair fell loose again, and this time he turned away. He couldn’t think of her like that...like anything other than a childhood friend or, better yet, a colleague.

  He sat down on the floor next to her and started shuffling through the receipts, bills and pamphlets. They worked for at least an hour. No matter how badly he wanted to concentrate, all he could seem to focus on was the way her arm bumped against his as they each shuffled through the papers. Why couldn’t his brother have lived in a house that was something a little bigger than a glorified garage?

  “Have you found anything?” He leaned toward her, his arm grazing hers as he looked into the pile of papers she had sitting in her lap.

  She flipped through the pages. “Not much, but your brother did seem to keep a constant record of his copper sales.” She lifted up a receipt that had a four-figure number circled at the bottom. “Do you think that is his haul for a month or a year?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “Hard to say. Let’s make a pile though. See if we can track his income.”

  He picked up his stack of papers and scanned through them, pulling out any possible income sources that Robert had in the last year. As he worked, Blake’s nearness became less uncomfortable.

  The income stack grew and started to spill over. Jeremy picked it up and began to add the numbers in his head. “Just looking at these,” he said, picking up the stack and straightening it, “Robert had to have pulled in more than a hundred thousand dollars last year. I’m sure he had some sizable expenses, but that seems more than enough to pay the taxes on his property.”

  Blake looked up at him. “I haven’t seen much in the paperwork to indicate that he had any significant form of debts—but maybe his outgo was in another box.”

  Jeremy reached under the bed and grabbed the next box. He opened the lid and threw it to the floor.

  “Oh...” he said, staring at the pile of women’s panties and bras. On top was a folded purple lace thong. He grabbed the lid to hide the box’s contents.

  “What is it?” Blake asked, peeking over. “Oh...” She giggled, the sound that cute noise between embarrassed and amused.

  The pink hue of her cheeks darkened into full red as she blushed. She looked young, vibrant, as the color moved through her features and all the way into her ears. She reached over and picked up the panties. They unfurled in her long fingers.

  “Something tells me that these probably aren’t in Robert’s size.” She laughed, dropping them back into the box. “He and Tiffany must have been having a good time...at least at some point.”

  For a moment, as he looked at her, he thought of her wearing those purple panties and a bra to match. In his daydream, she was sauntering toward him, her curves bouncing ever so slightly, teasing him as she moved.

  “It’s funny. I think I have the same pair in blue,” she joked, winking at him. “In fact, I might be wearing them now.” She reached down and unclipped her utility belt and carefully let it fall to the floor. Peeling back the waistband of her pants, she revealed the top of her panties. “No, they’re cotton. But they are magenta,” she said with a laugh. “So close to sexy, but so far.”

  “Hey, I think cotton can be sexy,” he said, wishing he could have seen more. He suddenly felt a little more at ease than he had before.

  Her giggle returned. “Then you would love my bra. I think it’s even beige. You haven’t seen sexy until you’ve seen me in a nude-colored cotton bra and mismatched panties.”

  “Oooohhh, baby.” He fanned himself as he laughed.

  He liked this side of her, the relaxed, playful and unlocked version of herself that he had never seen. He started to tell her. He stopped out of fear that if he said it, she would close up and the little spark he was seeing would fade away.

  “You’ve seen mine,” she teased, motioning to her panties. “It’s only fair if I see yours.”

  He tried to stop the lust that rose in his core. Dang, Blake was sexy.

  He stood up and walked over to the radio, then flicked it on. A Bob Seger CD clicked to life, and the song “Night Moves” filled the air.

  “What are you doing?” Blake asked with a playful frown. “Are we having a little Throwback Thursday thing here?”

  “First, it’s not Thursday. And, second, I happen to like Bob Seger. Or at least I did when I was a kid,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I bet you’re a Billy Ray Cyrus fan, too, huh?”

  He started to sing “Achy Breaky Heart.”

  “Oh, my God, please stop. Once that song gets in your head it never leaves,” s
he said, moving her hands up like she was guarding herself from his singing.

  “Come on. I’m not that bad of a singer, am I?”

  She looked up at him with a twinkle of glee in her eye. “If I were you, I would stick to being a detective.”

  He lunged toward her like a teenager, unthinking as he pulled her into his arms and growled. “How dare you?” he teased as her breath caressed his cheek.

  She put her arms around him. As her chest pushed into his, he could feel her heart hammering. Suddenly he realized how close they were, how she felt like she belonged in his arms—more, in his life. Everything just felt so good. So natural. So real.

  He leaned in, kissing her lips. They were welcoming and firm, echoing his own needs and fears. She kissed him back, their tongues moving against each other, waking every nerve ending in his body.

  She ventured closer, forcing him down to the hard floor as she moved atop him. Blake sat up, pressing her warmth against him, gently rocking as she teased his responding body. He reached down, taking hold of her hips, slipping his thumbs under the edge of her uniform top. As his cold fingers touched her hot flesh, she went still and just stared at him.

  He wished he could know what she was thinking. Then again, it probably wasn’t too hard to guess. She was probably wondering if this was the right decision. If this was the right time. If it was a bad idea to take things down this road with him.

  What they were doing was wrong for so many reasons. They were in his brother’s house searching for clues about his death, but if Robert’s death had taught him anything it was that he couldn’t let moments like these pass him by. Life was too short to play by the rules. This moment—holding her in his hands and feeling the warmth of her breath against his skin—this was right.

  He pushed his thoughts aside. Blake was the kind who took what she wanted. And he was eager to give it.

  * * *

  BLAKE LOOKED DOWN at him, the way his muscular chest pulled against his T-shirt, accentuating the lines of his pecs. How had they gotten here at a time like this?

  She stopped herself. They were working, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that her fantasy, the thing she’d wanted forever was happening.

  His thumb caressed her skin, his touch reassuring but at the same time making her core warm and her belly stir. He wanted her. He looked at her with his piercing green eyes; in their depths she could see a gleam that spoke of carnal appetite.

  Had he been without sex as long as she had? From the way she instinctively rolled her hips, her body hadn’t forgotten how glorious it could be—and how good it could be with Jeremy.

  Reaching down, she lifted the edge of his shirt and let her fingers trace the waistband of his jeans. There was a fine line of dark hair that trailed down, disappearing under his clothes. She wished she could follow that line, all the way down to—

  He sat up, breaking her wandering thoughts. When she thought he would step back from her and end this sensual assault, he leaned in and kissed her again. This time his kiss was deeper, headier than the last. She could taste his flavor, salty, sweet and faintly minty. He tasted so good, and she sucked at his lips, pulling the bottom one into her mouth.

  He moaned, the sound deep and throaty, hungry.

  She pushed him back, gently but firmly, and slid her hands down and unbuttoned his pants.

  “Boxers kind of guy?” she teased, pulling at the elastic band of his red flannel underwear.

  “I’m just like you. I’m a cotton man.”

  “My favorite kind of guy.” She laughed. “I don’t know what I would have done if you were wearing a G-string.”

  He laughed, and as he moved his body shifted under her. He pressed hard against her, making her nearly forget what they had been laughing about. All she could focus on was the way he felt under her and all the things she could do with his reacting body.

  She moved off him to between his legs. Ever so slowly, she edged down his pants, kissing his skin as she pulled them lower and lower down his thighs.

  His pheromone-laced scent nearly made her mouth water as she kissed over the cloth at the intersection of his legs and groin. He tensed under her touch, and she felt him come to life beneath her lips. Much as she didn’t want to, she stopped. He needed to want her more than he had ever wanted anyone before. She wanted him to beg her to let him have her. She would take her time in seducing him, pushing him to the edge and reeling him back in, again and again.

  The pants thumped as they hit the floor. But that was not the sound that stopped her. It was her phone. Vibrating loudly, it started to ring.

  “I better answer that,” she said, a bit breathless.

  He nodded, but his face fell with disappointment.

  She stepped away from him and grabbed the phone. “This is West.”

  “I’m calling in reference to Robert Lawrence.” It was the medical examiner, Les Taver. The man had always been short on frivolities, but maybe that was what happened when you worked with the dead all day.

  “I’m glad to hear from you, Les. What’s going on?”

  “After performing a full autopsy, I’ve made a ruling in Robert’s death. It’s a homicide.”

  Chapter Eight

  Falling into Jeremy’s arms had been a mistake. One Blake couldn’t repeat. He was off-limits for so many reasons. Not the least of which was his brother’s murder. Now that she had a homicide on her hands, anything between them could be seen as a conflict of interest. She couldn’t risk being pulled off the case because of her feelings toward him. She had promised the captain she would do her best to solve this case, and a relationship with Jeremy would only jeopardize everything.

  She slid her belt back on and clipped it into place. “Put your pants back on, Jeremy,” she said, her voice riddled with an air of forced indifference.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but she shot a look at him. “That was the medical examiner. He’s ruled your brother’s death a homicide.”

  Jeremy stood up and threw his clothes back on, jumping around as he pushed his legs into his jeans. “I knew it.”

  She tried to stop herself from feeling the urge to watch as Jeremy zipped his pants.

  He looked at her, measuring her in a glance. “What did the examiner find?”

  “He said that there wasn’t any gunpowder on Robert’s hands. He couldn’t have fired the gun.”

  She looked down at her phone. “He said he was going to email me his findings. It sounds like there was also some kind of note.”

  “A note?”

  “Your brother had put it inside the waistband of his pants. Maybe it was his way of sending us a clue.”

  She nodded as her phone buzzed to life. She clicked on the email from the medical examiner. “It’s here.”

  The handwritten note was slightly grainy, but she could easily make out the words as she read.

  To whoever’s gonna read this letter,

  The moment before lightning strikes, electricity fills the air. Metal vibrates and rings. Hair stands on end. The only thing a miner can do is lie down and pray. Pray violently. Pray like you ain’t never prayed before. Then you wait for the moment that a million volts strike...and you hope that death doesn’t find you.

  Until now, I always thought my biggest fear was lightning, that I would be struck down, a pickax in my pack and a shovel in my hand. I realize now what a fool I have been. It wasn’t lightning I should have feared. I shouldn’t have feared the earth. I should have feared my fellow man. If I had paid more attention, I would have known that the thing I love most would be the death of me.

  Robert Lawrence

  What did the letter mean?

  Jeremy walked over and stood beside her, staring at her phone. “The thing I love most,” he read aloud. “What did he love the most?” he as
ked rhetorically, tapping his fingers against his bottom lip.

  Sitting on the floor, beside the box, was the tax lien paperwork. “Do you think he meant the land? Maybe his mine?”

  Jeremy nodded. “Absolutely, but why would someone want to kill him for it?”

  She picked up the financial papers. “Look at this. He’s been making money hand over fist. Maybe someone found out. Someone who wanted what he had. Money and love are the most common motivators in a murder.”

  He handed her back her phone, and she slipped it into her pocket. “Who issues a tax lien?”

  “In this case, it was the county. I think the county treasurer holds it until it’s paid or it goes to auction.”

  The blood drained from her face as she remembered the name of the treasurer.

  “What’s the matter?” Jeremy asked, taking her by the arm like he was afraid she would faint.

  “I...I know him.”

  “Who? The treasurer?”

  She nodded, her body stiff and numb with realization. “His name’s Roger Davy.”

  “Okay.” Jeremy frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “Roger Davy is the mayor’s brother-in-law. Detective Engelman is his brother...” She forced herself to take a breath. “What if the mayor has something to do with this?”

  She had to have it all wrong. Just because her leads pointed toward the Engelman family didn’t mean that a corrupt system was behind this murder. She had to be missing something.

  But if she was right, she was in over her head.

  Had this been what Captain Prather was hinting at? Why he’d wanted her to take the case—because he knew she didn’t have a connection to that family? Was he setting her up to take a fall or to find the truth?

  She had to sit down.

  “It’s possible...but why? What would the mayor want from my brother?” Jeremy’s eyes turned dark, and she could have sworn she saw a shadow of hatred in them.