“You’re suggesting a jealous wife committed a double murder? You’ve seen too many cop shows, Detective.”
Ben stopped in the hall and turned to her. Her hands perched on slim hips, her mouth forming a perfect, determined pout, her large blue-green eyes framed with lovely dark lashes … Sterling drove all thoughts of Sara, Jerry, and Pamela out of his mind. “You know I don’t watch television, Sterling.”
“Sara didn’t do it.”
“Is there something you’re holding back? Maybe something from the envelope?”
“Would I withhold evidence?” Her eyes twinkled, and Ben’s heart twisted mercilessly.
“The question is, are you?”
“I’ve given you all the contents of the envelope. Trust me. It’s just a gut instinct.”
“That’s what I thought.” Ben tilted his head and fixed her with a stare. “I know about your gut instincts, Sterling. But I also remember the times, before you quit the force, that you put yourself in harm’s way just so you could make a collar — using, by the way, information you should have shared with your commanding officer.”
“I remember.” Sterling’s eyes dipped. Sure she had trouble with pride. But Ben didn’t know the whole story — that she’d lost trust in her fellow officers and knew it was always up to her to take care of things.
Ben shook his head and headed toward the elevator.
• • •
“Hmm, that detective is persistent, isn’t he?” Michelle gave Sterling a pointed look.
Sterling paused. “What do you mean?”
“He’s been here three days in a row.”
Michelle’s smile spoke volumes. Sterling decided to play dumb. “He’s working an investigation and the agency is involved.”
“I know, but there’s more going on behind those big blue eyes than police work. When you two are in the same room, it feels like I’m standing near a geyser.”
“What?”
“Yeah. It feels like something very strong is churning just below the surface, and any minute it’s going to — ”
“Stop.” Sterling held up her hands in protest and glared at Michelle. “Just stop talking like that.”
“You know I’m sensitive, Sterling. I can just feel stuff.” The young woman looked up, blinking innocent eyes, but nonetheless solidly convinced. “I’m usually pretty right. There is definitely something going on between the lines. Or is it between the sheets?” Michelle’s eyes now glinted brightly. A little too brightly.
Sterling straightened and put her finger to her lips. “Shh. You may have a gift, or something, but this time your sensitivities are off, sort of, so just stop talking about it. Please.”
“Sure. My lips are sealed,” Michelle said sweetly, but obviously she wasn’t buying it.
“Okay, well, to be perfectly honest, Ben and I have history, but nothing else. Just history.”
“Okay.”
“So,” she continued, feeling lost, “enough said, right?”
“Got it.” Michelle turned her attention to the computer and turned up the volume on her docked mp3 player. Birds chirping and ocean waves crashing onto a beach filled the room.
Sterling stepped into her office. She suspected Michelle really did get it, and understood even more than before the silly little conversation transpired.
Oh well, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is winding up this case. Sterling knew exactly what to do. If she could just keep her thoughts tied-up, controlled, the case would unfold, like cases always do. It would just take a little investigation, and after all, that’s what she did.
“Michelle,” she called. “Can you get me the Hansen file?”
A minute later, Sterling sorted through the file’s documents. She hadn’t lied to Ben. It wasn’t like she was withholding evidence. He had equal opportunity to put two and two together. It just happened to be her good fortune to hold previously obtained information from a similar case she’d closed months ago.
Mr. Hansen had asked Aegar Investigations to uncover the identity of a blackmailer who’d photographed him having intimate relations with a woman other than Mrs. Hansen. If Sterling’s memory proved right, similarities between photos in both cases might be the clue that would lead her to Jerry before Ben found him. It was a police investigation but it was her job to help her client. If she could find Jerry’s whereabouts first, so be it.
Bingo. Holding up a photo from the Hansen file, Sterling compared it in her mind’s eye with the photos she’d handed over to Ben. It was too good to be true. The similarities struck her as uncanny. It’s almost as if both sets of photos had been posed for. A shiver slipped down her spine.
On the back, she’d penned the name and address of the private detective who’d snapped the shots. Charlie Dewberry. She’d made it her business to delve into the comings and goings of the PI who would do that kind of dirty work. Spilling out more photos from the file, she sorted through the guy’s story: too many debts at Off Track Betting; too many nights of high-stakes gambling in the back room at Pineapple’s. Sterling stared at the photo she’d snapped of him and area drug kingpin Digger Johnson standing outside a warehouse located on the edge of downtown Laurelwood. That’s when she’d made Dewberry’s connection to the criminal element.
Setting her dark gray fedora atop her head, she grabbed her spring trench coat and slipped it on as she quickly walked past Michelle. She felt very Mickey Spillane.
“I’ll be out this afternoon. You can reach me on my cell phone if you need me.”
Chapter Nine
Sterling cursed under her breath. Why do these things keep happening to me? In the two years since she and Lacey opened their detective agency, finding bodies had not been every day fare. Only twice before had investigations led to a body and both times the people were elderly subjects of missing person cases.
But here Sterling stood, staring down at the second dead body she’d come across in three days.
Following her instincts, Sterling had driven to Dewberry’s office in a converted old house in downtown Laurelwood. If her hunch proved correct, Dewberry had snapped the incriminating photos of Pamela and Jerry. Dewberry was one guy who did not do credit to the business. Sort of a sleazy gumshoe. Sterling had hoped to shake his chain, confident he’d spill a lead or two.
But Dewberry would be of little help now, she thought ruefully. Sitting in a leather chair behind his desk, the private investigator’s head slumped awkwardly to one side and his eyes looked widely vacant from inside the plastic bag covering his head. A half-eaten double cheeseburger sat in his lap and papers strewn at his feet belied a struggle. But even though it was after-hours and the building was deserted, the office door had been standing open when she’d arrived. A close scrutiny of the lock told Sterling there were no signs of a forced entry.
Footsteps coming down the hall sent Sterling into the adjoining room. She pulled the door nearly shut and hugged the wall, her heart pounding loudly inside her head.
Maybe her luck was changing. Maybe the killer was still around. Maybe she’d have this case closed by the end of the day and it would be safe to hand over all the information to the cops. Then it would be so long, Ben Kirby, not to mention a little gloating for beating him to the perp.
The steps barely paused at Dewberry’s office, then traveled toward the stairs.
More good luck, she thought, noticing the sign over a door across the room reading EXIT.
Sterling crossed the room, slowly turned the knob, quietly opened the door, and peeked out. The hall looked empty. Her heart raced as she scanned up and down the dimly lit corridor. Cautiously, she stepped into the hallway. Pulling her fedora down low and adjusting her coat collar closer around her neck, she walked toward the stairway, keeping a vigilant eye.
She’d made it just two steps down the hall when a voic
e sounded gruffly behind her.
“Hold it!”
Adrenaline and self-preservation surged through Sterling’s veins, compelling her steps to hasten on. Yes, she wanted this slime bag, but this was not the way she wanted it to come down. Sneaking up from behind her like this put the perp at an obvious advantage.
Suddenly, hands around her ankles yanked Sterling’s feet out from under her. She fell flat onto the floor, her arms stinging as they broke her fall. Before she could gather her defenses, the harsh hands forced her over onto her back, and she stared up into the barrel of a gun.
“Hold it right there,” the gunman gruffly commanded, his foot planted on her churning stomach.
“Take it easy, I’m not moving,” she cried, raising her hands in surrender, but not moving her eyes from the .38 pointing at her head.
“Sterling?”
She knew that voice. “Ben?”
Instantly, he moved his foot off her and held out his hand. “Are you okay?” Ben effortlessly pulled Sterling to her feet, then shot a furtive gaze up and down her body. “Are you okay?” he asked again. “Why didn’t you stop when I told you to?”
“I didn’t know it was you.” Sterling felt like an idiot, but tried to cover her unease, smoothing the lines of her skirt and ignoring Ben’s eyes.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.” Maybe she could distract him, deflect his accusations and suspicions.
“You’re going to have a bruise here.” Gently Ben touched her forehead, sending her heart tripping.
But like a flash, understanding dawned in her mind. Angrily, she pushed his hand away. “You rat! You followed me, didn’t you? It was you I heard coming down the hall a few minutes ago. How did you get behind me?”
“This hall circles the floor. I was making the rounds. I thought you were the killer.” Ben shoved his gun back into his underarm holster.
“But you didn’t go into the office. How did you know someone had been killed?” She didn’t know which was more bruised — her forehead or her ego.
“It didn’t take more than a quick look to see that guy was history, Sterling. I saw someone leave his office, and naturally presumed it was the killer leaving the scene. I didn’t know it was you.”
“That doesn’t explain why you just happen to be here at the same time I am.” Sterling pointed an accusing finger in Ben’s face, wishing she didn’t feel so unnerved. God, he was exasperating! “You followed me.”
“I did not follow you. I followed a lead, just like you did. We always did think alike.” A mischievous grin lit Ben’s rugged face.
His smile softened her anger and, annoyingly, spurred her pulse, but she’d be damned if she’d let on. “Ben, didn’t I ask you to stop referring to the past?”
His grin slipped into a frown. “Fine. Let’s concentrate on the present. Where were you going when I slammed you to the floor?”
Sterling planted her hands on her hips. “Where do you think? To follow the possible killer I thought I heard walking in the hallway. You don’t suspect me, do you?”
“Of course not. It was just a question.”
Noting Ben’s clenched jaw and furrowed brow, Sterling felt his discomfort. “You seem uptight, or something. What are you keeping from me?”
Ben shuffled from one foot to the other. “Nothing.”
Shooting him a dubious scowl, Sterling pivoted and drew her attention to the scene inside the office. The closer Ben’s presence drew her in, the harder it was to concentrate. Though perhaps unconscious on his part, Ben’s power over her heart remained nonetheless all the more compelling for its innocence.
Sterling gathered her determination to piece together the puzzle and close the Witt case before her heart became hopelessly entangled. There couldn’t be any more letting her guard down. The intimate times she’d spent with Ben only made things worse. What had she been thinking, letting her emotions take over? It amazed her that she could make such poor choices.
Ben cleared his throat. “Okay, maybe I’m a little nervous about you wandering around when we haven’t secured the scene. I’m going to make the call to the department, then I’d like to talk with you.”
Sterling crouched to scrutinize, without touching, the papers lying on the floor. “You make your call. I’ll just look around.”
“Sterling, you leave things be until my men get here.”
Sighing, Sterling straightened and shot another look at Ben. “You don’t have to caution me. I know what I’m doing. You just get the cops here. It’s been a long day and the sooner your men get here, the sooner I can get some of my own answers.”
• • •
Lacey perched on her kitchen stool and fingered the rose quartz earring dangling from her left pierced ear. She hadn’t taken the earrings off since her encounter yesterday in the hospital with Nicholas. Call it superstitious, she didn’t care, they had to be her lucky earrings. How else could the return of her sweet Nick be explained?
After the doctor released Tyler from the hospital that afternoon, Lacey had brought her son home, fixed his favorite meal — spaghetti, corn muffins, and fresh cantaloupe — then coaxed him with computer games into an evening of sitting put. Against his protests, Lacey had ushered him off to bed early. After making sure Tyler had a night’s rest in his own bed, she would be nearly ready to release her precious son back into the world again, be it with a cast from his fingers to his shoulder.
But you know concern for Tyler is not the only reason you wanted him snug in bed tonight. Nicholas promised he would be near, but when, how? Lacey’s thoughts churned and stewed as she tried to logic it out.
But honestly, none of it made any sense. Not rationally. Still, Lacey knew without doubt that Nicholas had visited her in the hospital yesterday, and maybe there had been other times, too, that she had discounted. She was as sure of it as she was sure of anything — not because her head told her it was possible, though. The sweet, unshakable knowledge of Nicholas sat firmly planted in another place located in the center of her chest.
A smile started in Lacey’s heart and lifted the corners of her lips. “Nicholas,” she whispered. “I know you’re here. I can feel you.”
“Hey, beautiful.” The sound of his voice struck a jubilant chord in Lacey’s body. As real and solid as the kitchen walls, Nicholas sat on a stool beside her. “I knew you’d figure it out.”
Leaning close, he pressed a tender kiss to her lips.
Lacey felt tears welling inside her heart. “You told me you were near, I just had to believe.”
Instantly on his feet, Nicholas’s arms encircled her. Lacey could feel his heart beating against her trembling body.
“Don’t cry, Lacey.” Nicholas brushed away a tear traipsing down her cheek. “Everything’s okay now.”
“Longing for you has been aching inside me for so long. Now, seeing you here, really here, holding me and kissing me, my heart can’t contain the joy.” Lacey rested her head against Nicholas’s solid shoulder, wanting only to have faith that this moment would never end.
“Our love is so strong. Like I told you, nothing could keep me away.” Nicholas tilted her face up to his, taking her lips in a lingering, exquisite kiss.
Fairly humming like a finely tuned motor, Lacey let the force of their love carry her to a place of gentle calm. With Nicholas’s arm draped over her shoulders, she let him lead her into the living room to nestle onto the couch together.
“Just like old times.” Lacey snuggled close to him, taking in his familiar scent. “Can this really be happening?”
Silently, Nicholas stroked her cheek and Lacey gazed up into his liquid-blue eyes. From his wavy, ash-blonde hair and squarely broad shoulders beneath his red T-shirt, to his wrinkled jeans and quirky smile, this was exactly the Nicholas she
remembered. How could she question the reality of this moment?
Still, there were questions.
“Why are you here?”
“You needed me, so I came.” Nicholas continued to stroke her cheek, his eyes never stirring from hers.
“But I’ve needed you for two years. Tyler needed you, too. Why have you come to me now?”
“You called me.”
“But how?” Lacey knew the questions were coming from a place inside her that was afraid to believe, afraid she’d lose him again. Or worse, discover this was all in her head.
Nicholas drew her up close to him. He felt solid, warm, real.
“It’s hard to explain,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Don’t listen to your fears, Lacey. Listen to your heart. You know our love is as real as anything that exists in this world. And that’s how you called me.”
The clock in the hallway struck eleven o’clock, and Lacey yawned, relaxing comfortably into the knowing of her love for Nick.
“You better get to bed, sleepyhead,” he teased.
Lacey straightened. “Will you stay?”
Nicholas smiled. “Don’t worry about anything, sweetie. I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”
“When will you be back?” Lacey felt the fears rising again.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“How long will you stay?” she said, lowering her eyes. She couldn’t bear the thoughts tumbling around inside her head.
“I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
• • •
Thinking seemed to be getting Sterling nowhere but in concentric circles. The clock on her wall beat out the minutes as she thumbed through copies of the police investigative report of Pamela’s death. Nothing here pins down motive. No leads to Jerry’s whereabouts. The key remained a dead-end, and the planner had yet to yield any clues. Sterling slammed the file folder down on her desk, and walked to the window.
Dancing with Detective Danger Page 10