Dust Up with the Detective

by Danica Winters

  “That’s not it,” he said, looking toward her house.

  She followed his gaze. The lights were off inside, but that didn’t mean that her mother wasn’t watching. She turned her back to the windows. “Then what is it, Jeremy? Are you mad about what happened at your brother’s? If that’s the case, it won’t happen again. It was a mistake in the first place.”

  He took her by the arms and looked into her eyes. “Stop. I’m not upset with you.”

  “Then why are you so pissed? Why have you barely spoken to me since the range?”

  He looked toward his parents’ house. “I’m not pissed. I’m just... I’m just... I don’t know. Look. Here’s the deal. In a few minutes, I’m going to have to walk in there,” he said as he motioned toward his parents’ house. “And I’ll have to tell them that we don’t have a suspect in Robert’s case. They are going to want to know everything the medical examiner said and what we’ve done. It’s going to be brutal.”

  “You don’t have to tell them anything,” she said, softening under his touch.

  “You know that isn’t realistic. If you think your mother’s bad, imagine what she’d be like if something happened to you.”

  She shuddered at the thought. Her mother would be distraught. As much as they got under each other’s skin, they were everything to each other.

  “My mother is more upset than I’ve ever seen her.” He rubbed his thumb over the fabric of her uniform. “The worst part of it all is that I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been good at that sort of thing. I don’t know the right words.”

  “Just listen to your heart and be honest.” As the words fell from her lips, she couldn’t help but feel like a hypocrite. Here she was telling him to be honest, to follow his heart, but that was the last thing she was going to do. She couldn’t tell him how she felt...how she had always wanted him. It was too big of a risk, putting her trust in someone else.

  “I—” He stopped.

  “What were you going to say?” That little part of her heart that held all her desires sprang to life with the hope he would say what she wanted to hear—he wanted her and they could be together.

  He let go of her arms and stepped back from her. The way he moved made it seem as though he wasn’t putting just physical distance between them but emotional distance, as well.

  “I appreciate what you’re doing, Blake,” he said, his hard-edged voice in direct opposition to the softness of his words. “I mean with the investigation and all. You’re doing everything you can.”

  She waited for the “but.”

  “But,” he continued as the single word made her heart sputter and her fingers go numb, “what we did at Robert’s...you were right. What happened was a mistake. I have only been divorced for a little over a year. I know that seems like a long time, and I would be okay, but I have my daughter to think about.”

  She nodded, not sure if she could handle standing there and listening to what she knew was coming.

  “I’m sure you feel the same way,” he said.

  He couldn’t have understood the way she was feeling right now—the way she wanted to run away, to crawl under her sheets and hide. Still, another part of her wanted to stand up and tell him he was wrong—that they could have it all, that they could be together. That they could figure it out if they both loved each other enough.

  Love. The word dropped like a stone in a bucket. It rippled through her, the weight of its meaning cascading all the way down to her toes. That was the problem. Neither of them could have love.

  There was no room left in their hearts.

  * * *

  BLAKE SAT ON the edge of Megan’s bed and stroked her daughter’s damp blond hair. She smelled like lavender shampoo and innocence.

  “Get some sleep, pumpkin.” She leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead and then she turned and slipped the book back onto the shelf, next to her daughter’s well-loved redheaded doll, one of the mementos she’d kept from her childhood.

  “Mom, wait,” Megan called just as she moved to stand up.

  “What, honey?”

  “Mom,” Megan said, her voice smooth but laced with sleepiness. “Are you going to ever get married?”

  The question came out of left field and forced Blake to slump back onto Megan’s bed. “What do you mean? Where did that come from?”

  “Well, Grandma was on the phone today and she was talking about Jeremy. She said that she hoped you’d get married to a man like him.” Megan took her hand; her skin was warm and soft. “Do you love him?”

  Why did her mother have to put ideas like this into Megan’s head? There was no right answer. No matter what she said, Megan would riddle her with more questions—questions that a thirteen-year-old didn’t need to ask. She just needed to enjoy being young and not worrying about her mother’s romantic relationships—or lack thereof.

  She thought of Jeremy and where they had left things with each other. Maybe he had been right in pushing her away with the excuse that they needed to think of their children first. If things were like this, confused and up in the air, the last thing she wanted to do was involve Megan. Above anything else, her daughter needed to be protected.

  “Pumpkin, I love you.” She pushed a hair off Megan’s slightly sweaty neck.

  “I know, Mom, but it would be kind of cool, you know...”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Megan said, skirting around what she wanted to say. “I guess it would be just kind of cool if I had a dad. I mean a dad I actually saw and stuff. Think about it. I could even have a sister if you married Jeremy. It would be so fun.”

  She didn’t want to burst Megan’s illusion by telling her that in real life, relationships weren’t that simple. They were just another method through which you could get hurt.

  “We don’t need a man in our lives just to make us happy, pumpkin. Women are so strong. We can do anything,” she said, flexing her arms as she tried to make light of the multiple layers of her daughter’s innocent but pain-inducing words.

  “Oh, I know you’re strong, Mom.” Megan waved her off. “But he makes you smile. I like it when you smile. You look beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as you.” She wanted to take her daughter by the arms and tell her that she wanted a man, too, but instead she simply kissed her good-night and slipped out the door. She pressed her back to the wall and took a deep breath.

  She wanted a whole family for Megan, but she couldn’t tell her the truth—Jeremy didn’t want to get involved.

  This time, the truth was just too painful.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning, Jeremy was already waiting by her squad car when she made her way outside to go to work. He looked too handsome, wearing a snug pair of jeans that still had the crease of newly bought pants and a fresh plaid shirt that made him look like a logger in all the right ways.

  He had a cup of Starbucks coffee in his hand and he extended it to her as she approached. “I hope you accept my peace offering.”

  She frowned, trying her best to be cute in an attempt to show him all that he was missing by not choosing her. “What kind is it?”

  “Pumpkin spice latte. I even had them put the whipped cream on.”

  Most of the deputies she worked with loved their coffee unflavored and black—like it was some kind of symbolic gesture that they were tougher than the average person who needed added flavor, cream and sugar in their coffee. Unlike them, she loved pumpkin spice. Did he know, or was it just a lucky guess?

  “Whole or skim?”

  “Whole milk,” he said with that trademark grin he seemed to reserve especially for her. “Nothing but the best for you.”

  “Thanks.” She took the coffee, careful to avoid touching his tanned hands. “Why the sudden about
-face?” As she asked the question, she wished she could take it back. That was one conversation she didn’t want to open. “Never mind. Don’t answer that,” she added, trying to put the cork back in the bottle.

  “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

  She waited for “I’m sorry,” but it didn’t come. Did that mean he shouldn’t have said it, but he still meant it?

  She took a long drink of the hot coffee, not knowing what to say.

  “I was hoping, if you’re not upset, I could go with you again today to see the mayor.”

  So that was it. He wasn’t sorry. He was worried about not getting the chance to work on the case. She considered telling him to get lost, but the truth was that she couldn’t turn him away when everything centered on his brother... This was personal.

  “Fine. Whatever. Get in the car.”

  He smiled and got in the car, but this time the cute smile didn’t have the same stomach-clenching effect. This time she had to withstand the urge to punch him in the nose. Why did all men have to be pains in the behind? Why couldn’t they be as simple as they always claimed they were?

  She got in and accidentally squealed the tires as she backed out of the driveway. The ride was silent, but she noticed that Jeremy kept glancing over at her as if he was trying to gauge her anger. The third time she noticed him looking her way, she had to bite her tongue to keep from saying something she would regret.

  “I talked to Penny this morning, before she went to practice,” he said finally, almost like he’d been searching for and found a way to open a conversation that wouldn’t bring up anything about last night. “She’s playing soccer. Is Megan into sports?”

  Did he really think that talking about their kids would make things easier for him?

  “Nope.”

  “Play an instrument?”

  “No,” she answered, careful to stick to the safe, monosyllabic responses.

  “That’s too bad,” he said, but from the way he peered over at her, it was clear that he wasn’t really commenting on Megan’s after-school activities, or lack thereof. “Penny loves soccer,” he said, looking away, careful to maneuver around her anger. “She’s been playing since first grade. She’s pretty good, too.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Blake said as she turned down the main road that led to the mayor’s office.

  There was a silver Land Rover parked in front of the building. Apparently Engelman was in.

  “Look,” Jeremy said, pointing to the car as if she hadn’t seen it.

  “Yep.”

  He jerked in his seat, as though he’d had enough of her being short with him. “If we’re going to go in there together, then we can’t be at each other’s throats. We need to show him that we’re a united front or he’s going to take advantage of our weakness.”

  She wasn’t weak, and Jeremy was a fool if he thought she was.

  “Then maybe you should stay in the car.”

  “Stop it, Blake,” he said, with a pained expression on his face. “I said I’m sorry.”

  “No, actually you didn’t. Instead you made it abundantly clear that all you care about is the investigation—and that’s fine. I get it. Your family is important to you, and—”

  I’m not. She stopped before she let the words fall from her lips. She didn’t want to come off as self-pitying.

  “You’re important to me, too,” he said, reaching for her hand, but she pulled it away.

  How could he have known what she was thinking?

  “That’s why I said what I did.” He left his hand open between their seats, as if he was waiting for her to place her hand in his. “I don’t want either one of us to end up hurt here. We don’t live in the same place. We both have lives that, when this is all figured out, are going to pull us in different directions. It would be naive to think we could have it all.”

  She understood his logic, but her heart screamed for her to be unreasonable—to just pay heed to the way her body wanted him.

  “You’re right,” she said, looking down at his hand. Instead of taking it, she opened her door and got out, closing it so he was out of earshot. “We can’t have it all.”

  * * *

  THE MAYOR SAT behind his desk, reclining with his feet perched up on the edge like he was midnap. He pulled his feet down as they walked in.

  “Deputy West, I heard you might be stopping by,” he said, standing up and motioning for them to take a seat. His oversize belly hung low over the waistband of his pants, and his shirt was stretched tight over his paunch. He quickly tried to adjust his suit jacket to cover the stressed buttons.

  His office was decorated with a collection of antiquated law books and bronzes of firemen and police officers, replicas and idols of heroes—as if he hoped that some of their traits would rub off on him.

  “Thank you for seeing us, Mayor Engelman,” she said, sitting down in the proffered chair as Jeremy followed suit. “This is my colleague, Jeremy Lawrence. He’s helping our department with an investigation.”

  “Which investigation would that be?” the mayor asked, flopping down in his seat.

  Jeremy leaned forward, resting his elbows on the armrests of the leather chair. “Actually, it’s a homicide involving my brother, Robert Lawrence.”

  The mayor frowned, the action forced and out of place on the practiced features of the politician. “Robert Lawrence,” the mayor said, tapping his finger on his lip like he was thinking. “Afraid I haven’t heard of him.”

  “Huh, that’s strange,” Jeremy said, attacking the mayor’s error. “My brother had a picture of you parked at his neighbor’s house last week.”

  “If this guy is your brother, Mr. Lawrence, don’t you think that this case is a conflict of interest for you?” the mayor asked, carefully sidestepping Jeremy’s accusation.

  “My professionalism is not up for debate, Mayor Engelman. However, your association with my brother is.”

  The mayor laughed. “This isn’t some episode of CSI. Just because there is a picture of my car near the Whatever It’s Called Mine, that doesn’t mean I have any kind of association with your brother. What did you say your brother’s name was again?”

  Jeremy’s face darkened, causing Blake to step in and divert what looked to have become a conflagration.

  “His brother’s name is Robert Lawrence,” she said. “We were called out to his place of residence earlier this week. There, we located his remains. I was just hoping we could talk a little bit about it, in the event you could shed some light on the case.”

  The mayor looked down at his watch as if to say they were wasting his time and he had somewhere better to be. “I appreciate that you’re trying to do your job, Deputy West—I do. However, there’s nothing I can tell you about your homicide investigation. If all you have is some picture of my car in his neighbor’s driveway, I’m not sure why you are standing in my office.”

  Jeremy’s face contorted with rage. “We’re standing here because you’re a—”

  “Vital piece of this investigation,” Blake said, once again interrupting just in time to stop Jeremy from saying something that would serve neither of them. She reached down and pulled out the picture of the gun that they had found in the mine next to Robert’s body. “Have you seen this gun before?”

  The mayor took the photo and studied it. Jeremy looked at her, and she mouthed for him to relax. He jerked his head toward the mayor and mouthed something she couldn’t quite make out, but she wasn’t sure she needed to as she could still read the contempt that filled Jeremy’s eyes. She shook her head, and Jeremy leaned back from the mayor’s desk in resignation.

  The mayor looked up. “Where did you find this gun?”

  “Have you seen it before?” she asked, careful to avoid giving any information. She needed to pull him into the trap,
get him to spill the secrets that only the killer would know.

  The mayor gave a noncommittal shrug.

  It was no wonder the man was a politician. Here he was, with his feet to the flames, and he looked calm and collected—a far cry from the reaction most people had when they thought they were a suspect in a homicide investigation. For a split second she wondered if that was what the guy was like in bed—noncommittal and dismissive.

  She glanced over at Jeremy. His face was red and the vein in his neck was starting to protrude slightly. From their encounter at Robert’s cabin, the mere taste of what he was capable of sexually, she had to bet he was the kind of guy who liked to revel in the glory of a woman’s body—dipping his fingers down her curves, tracing the lines of her breasts.

  What it would have been like to have had the chance to experience all of him...

  Her body pulsed with lust. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then forced herself to look away and back at the pudgy face of the mayor.

  “Yes or no, Mayor? Have you seen this gun before?” she reiterated, pressing her point.

  “It’s a Glock, isn’t it?”

  “Is that a ‘Yes, I’ve seen the gun’?”

  “It’s possible. I just sold a gun like this a few weeks ago.”

  “You sold a gun like this? Or did you buy it?”

  The mayor stared at her. “I sold one like it. I can’t tell you whether or not it’s the same exact gun.”

  “We were told that you just recently purchased a gun like this. Is that right?”

  The mayor’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “I bought my Glock five years ago from a police auction—your department’s, if I recall correctly. I think it was some fundraiser.”

  He’d had the gun for five years? Things didn’t align. The manager at the range had told them the gun had just been sold to the mayor by Todd O’Brien, but was it possible that the man had gotten it backward?

  “Who did you sell the gun to?” Blake asked.