Naturally, he picked up on it. “About what you’re not saying. We can get into that tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You’ll be home tomorrow?” I wasn’t sure I was ready for the Security Clearance Discussion quite yet. “Um. You got my message, right? About my sense of touch coming back?”
“Got it. One of the reasons I’ll be over tomorrow afternoon.”
“So, are you okay with it?”
Silence.
“Mitch?”
“Yes. I’m okay with it. Can’t believe you asked that.”
I fiddled with the edge of the steering wheel. “It’s just that it complicates things and I—”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I’ll call you when I get in. So,” he changed the subject, “where are you? Exactly?”
I looked around. “Parked by the side of the road near the fair grounds. Why?”
“I thought we should give the phone sex a try.”
I swallowed. Audibly.
Laughter spilled over the line. “Couldn’t resist. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, Sunshine.” And with that he was gone.
I grinned all the way home.
It was quiet when I pulled into my driveway. Either Annie was with Sean, working, or Adam hadn’t had a chance to call her yet. In any case, it meant I had the rest of the night to myself.
I was too keyed up to sleep, so I poured myself a glass of the leftover Rock Rabbit and inhaled the clean, fruity fragrance drifting from the glass. I wasn’t a wine connoisseur, but I enjoyed the scent…and the rich flavor that melted like chocolate over my tongue.
I made my way to the shower, dropped my clothes in a heap, and stepped under the spray. Merlin’s doggy licks needed to be washed away since they’d left my skin smelling like kibble. Also, I did some of my best thinking in the shower. I lathered my body with Light Blue gel, the crisp citrus scent spreading through the bathroom and clinging to my skin. Soothing. Normal. I decided that no matter what happened with Marcy, I would keep track of Merlin’s well being. Not that I wanted a dog. Nope, not me.
I dried off, rubbed Light Blue lotion into my skin and tossed on a lightweight, cotton sleep shirt. I snuggled under the covers and plumped a couple pillows behind my back so I could drink my wine and go through the infamous stack of envelopes one more time.
Now that my sense of touch was back, I needed to be more careful about how I handled the envelopes. I peered at the one sitting on top of the stack without touching it. The postmark was over ten years ago. It must have been sitting on my mom’s desk before she and dad went away on that last trip.
I sipped my wine, strength for whatever images might pop up. As much as I loved my mother, she kept her work separate from our family life. I couldn’t remember her having any women friends. It was just her, my dad, and me. And work. Both of them were away working most of the time. No telling what sort of personal correspondence Loyria Gray might have had sitting on her desk, so I didn’t know how to prep for whatever was in the envelope.
Not wanting to pick up any images from the other envelopes, I used the bottom of the wine glass to nudge the top letter askew from the stack.
Another sip of wine.
I set the glass down and closed my fingers around the envelope. The first image was cloudy, and a spike of panic shot through my chest. Had my ESP gone wonky again? No. Old images often weren’t as clear as recent ones. Somehow, I thought this would be different, the mail being attached to my mom and all.
I shifted the envelope so I could hold it in both hands, allowing it to rest lightly against my fingertips.
Dropped it.
Damn. Who the hell was the tall, dark-haired guy? His face was coarse with heavy brows, and he had hard, brown eyes. Streaks of silver ran through the hair at his temples.
Not. My. Dad. I had inherited his red hair, and he had kind, blue eyes.
Okay then. Probably someone my mom worked with.
I reached for my wine glass with unsteady fingers. Did I want to know what this letter said? To pry into my mom’s past? The gnawing pain around my heart said no. I could burn the letter, and leave the information in the past where it probably belonged.
I took another sip of wine, then set the glass down, aligned it just so on my nightstand.
But what if their accident hadn’t been an accident? Neither my curiosity nor my sense of responsibility would allow me to burn the letter. I tore it open, fast, like ripping off a bandage, then slipped the single sheet of paper from the envelope.
Nothing.
I turned the page over, and goosebumps popped out on my arms.
Four numbers stood out, black and powerful against the yellowed paper.
TWENTY-TWO
The bloom of a pink and orange sunrise peeked through my bedroom window. I smiled at the rosy glow coating my bedroom walls until my gaze landed on the stack of envelopes next to the bed. Another chill twitched under my skin. From the cool rush of morning air as I snaked my hand from under the covers to nab the letter I’d opened before falling asleep, or was it the numbers? I spread the paper open on my bed, brushed the mop of hair out of my eyes, and read the numbers again.
9 21 32 18
The image of The Man flashed on my internal monitor, and my breath caught.
Loyria Gray had a Ph.D. in archaeology. I couldn’t think of a thing to relate her profession with these numbers. It made no sense. The numbers, the man, and archaeology had no connection—at least not in my brain. Some outside help was definitely needed here.
A glance at the clock told me I had an hour to get to Adam’s office. I wasn’t looking forward to being raked over the coals, but it would give me a chance to run the letter by him. See what he thought.
I slid it back in the envelope and eyed the remaining five—the ones I hadn’t run through my fingers yet—and gave a moment’s consideration to checking them out before talking to Adam. A time-check told me no, unless I was willing to be late, and with the mood Adam was in last night—a bad idea.
I slipped into my favorite sundress—beige with black trim, a sexy exposed zipper that ran down the back, and a hem that fell just above my knees. If you have to face a man’s wrath, especially when he’s right, you need all the help you can get.
After I’d tamed my hair into a topknot, I added dangly silver earrings, and slid my feet into my new Jimmy Choo Fiona heels. If that didn’t divert Adam’s attention from his mad, nothing would.
I slid the letter into my handbag and was on my way—no coffee, no breakfast. No point in putting something in my stomach when it was already full of butterflies. I hated visiting the station.
I found a shady parking space and trudged up the stairs rather than riding the elevator. It was a small thing, but at least I had some control over my entrance if I took the stairs. When I exited the stairwell, the desk officer’s eyes dilated, he sucked in air, and jumped out of his chair. It tipped, crashing to the floor behind him and caught the attention of everyone in the bullpen. Sprightly fellow.
“Ms. G-Gray?” he asked as he righted the chair.
“Yes, officer, I’m Everly Gray.”
Adam strolled out of his office in time to catch the red staining the young officer’s cheeks, looked me up and down and shook his head. “Come on back.” He motioned me to follow him, closed the door to his office behind me with a decided click and pointed to a chair.
“Sit.”
“Woof.” I couldn’t help it. It just slipped out.
His eyes went from icy green to glacial. “What you did last night. It was dangerous, El. Could have infringed on my investigation and destroyed our ability to prosecute.”
He was right. I hate when he’s right. “I apologize. I was out of line.”
Silence.
I don’t respond well to silence. “On the other hand, you never would have known about what happened at Marcy’s if I hadn’t found Merlin and called you. It’s possible she never would have reported the break in. I mean, who knows how deeply she’s mixed up in the murder
s.”
The muscles in his jaw clenched.
I crossed my legs.
He rubbed his hand along his jaw. “Damn but you piss me off. It’s your safety as much as the case. And the worst thing is that I need your help.”
Okay, then. I perked up immediately, uncrossed my legs, and slid to the edge of the chair. “Terrific. How? With what?”
He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Then scowled. First time I’d seen Adam looking really dangerous. Goose bumps popped out on my skin.
“It’s not like you don’t have me on speed dial, Everly. Why didn’t you call before you went traipsing around Marcy’s house?”
I slid back in my chair. “I thought you were going to tell me how I could help.”
“You can help by keeping me informed before you go off like a rabid wombat. No common sense. At least Annie has common sense.”
Okay. That was it. I stood and slung my bag over my shoulder. Time to exit.
He snagged my wrist in a solid grip before I could move toward the door. “Sit. Down.”
I sat. I twisted my arm free, but I definitely sat.
He leaned back in his chair and clamped his hands behind his head. “It grates on me to ask you for help after your stunt last night. I’d be just as pissed with Annie, but at least she has the skills to defend herself.”
I opened my mouth to explain about the self-defense classes I was taking, but he stopped me with a hand.
“I know about the classes. Unfortunately, I also know about your curiosity.”
I couldn’t stop the smile. “It does have a way of getting me into trouble.”
He leaned forward and shook his head. “Okay. I’m gonna say this just once. Call me when you get into trouble. No more excuses.”
The tension drained out of me. He was finally done with the lecture.
“Okay.” I pulled out my phone, pressed his speed dial number, and his jacket pocket rang.
He pulled out his phone, flipped it open and waited.
“Just practicing,” I said with a grin, then pressed End and dropped the phone back in my bag.
He stood up and offered me his hand. I placed my palm in his and caught several images of how worried he was. “I’m sorry, Adam,” I said as he pulled me up and wrapped his arms around me.
“You scare the shit out of me. Good thing Annie broke me into the big brother routine.”
I kissed his cheek and stepped back. “I’ll be forever grateful to her.”
He nodded, grabbed a tablet and tucked it under his arm. “First thing is Jerry Applegate’s desk.”
“Jerry…seriously? You’re going to turn my fingers loose on Applegate’s desk?” If I hadn’t been wearing four-inch heels, I’d have jumped up and down.
“Yeah. Don’t know what you’ll pick up. The crime scene people have been over it.”
I shrugged. “Still. I could find something. There are no rules about how my fingers work.”
His hand went to the doorknob, then his gaze zeroed in on my feet. “Mitch seen those shoes yet?”
“Not yet, but he’ll be home this afternoon.”
“Poor guy. Doesn’t stand a chance.”
With that he led me down the hall to Jerry Applegate’s desk. It was off to one side of the bullpen, regulation cop furniture with no distinguishing marks and not a single sheet of paper in sight. “Is it empty?” I circled around it.
“Yeah. Internal Affairs has everything.”
I glanced up and caught Adam glaring at the room full of officers. A bit of shuffling and their attention moved away from us. Then he turned to me, eyes squinty. “I cannot believe—” he pointed at my shoes, made his way up to my face— “that you came here dressed like that. It’s screwing with my officers.”
My cheeks warmed, but mostly it was good to know the outfit was worth every penny I spent on it.
He shifted his weight to one foot and cocked his head at me. “Are you gonna touch the desk or not?”
I blew out a breath, let my fingers come to rest against the surface. “Not much here other than traces of your team going over it.”
“Huh.”
He’d been a heck of lot more articulate while he reamed me out. I used my index finger to pull open the upper, right-hand drawer, then rested all four fingertips against the bottom. Saw an image of Shauna. “He had a picture of Shauna in here and—” I moved my fingers farther back in the drawer— “he was in the military.”
Adam nodded. “Explosives expert. We know about that.”
I closed the drawer and made my way, slowly, through the others. Didn’t find anything else until I reached the bottom left drawer. Several images flew across my mind. “There’s um, something in those papers IA has about TNT. Applegate was a member, you know?” I glanced at Adam.
“No, I didn’t know.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “How do you know?”
“It was in the stuff I copied from the yearbooks at Calverton. They granted him membership his junior year. Shauna didn’t make it, although from what the yearbook said she was going to try again.”
“And what was in there?” He nodded at the drawer.
“His assignment. It’s an initiation contract for TNT pledges. Applegate had a letter with some kind of task, or maybe it’s a directive, I’m not sure. The images are faded, so there’s not a lot I can tell you. I’d like to get my hands on the original copy of—”
“No,” Adam shouted. Glanced around the bullpen. “Don’t even think of breaking into Internal Affairs to get that envelope.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Of course not. That would be stupid.”
His only response was raised eyebrows.
My stomach chose that moment to express a rather intense hunger. The growling was impossible to ignore. “I um, didn’t have breakfast. Too nervous about…” I waved my hand toward his office.
Adam rocked back on his heels and shot me a secretive grin. “So, made you nervous, huh?’
I rolled my eyes. “Well, yeah. Have you ever heard yourself when you’re in a snit?”
The grin disappeared. “I do not have snits.”
“Right. How about if you feed me?”
“I can do that. A smoothie on the way to Applegate’s apartment?”
My mouth dropped open.
He reached out, tucked his finger under my jaw, and pushed my mouth closed. “See how much fun you can have when you work with me instead of against me?”
“What’s the catch?”
He rested his hand at the small of my back and gave me a little push. “Let’s get you fed.”
We drove through a juice place, and I was happily slurping away at my Banana Berry Blast (with added protein) when Adam pulled into a parking spot in front of the apartment complex—the same one Annie and I had tailed Marcy to yesterday.
Adam came around to open my door and motioned me out of the car with a finger snap. Guess I’d taken too long over the last few mouthfuls of my drink. I dropped the empty cup in the trash as he inserted a funny looking key into the lobby door. “Nifty looking key.”
He tucked it in his pocket and held the door open for me. “Forget it. You can’t have one.”
No surprise there. But maybe Pierce…
As I followed him into the elevator he shot me a blank look. Practiced. Like he’d used it for interrogating suspects. “I should prep you before we—”
Fingers of cold cat-walked along my nape. “For what?”
“Applegate’s apartment is—” he paused as we stepped out on the third floor.
“What? What is it, Adam?”
“A shrine to Shauna Blaine.”
I stopped dead, and the smoothie did a flip-flop in my stomach. “What exactly does that mean?”
He shrugged as he removed the crime scene tape from across the door, slid a key into the lock (a normal one this time), and pushed the door open. I made a mental note of the type of lock thinking it might come in handy. Especially now that my lock picking skills were impro
ving.
But I didn’t follow him.
Couldn’t. My feet were firmly planted a few feet from the door. The energy from Applegate’s apartment drifted through the doorway and crept along my skin with sticky fingers.
“There’s nothing gruesome or bloody, El. Just too many pictures of Shauna.”
“No. It’s more than that. Can’t you feel the desperation? His mind wasn’t right, Adam.” I took a few steps back.
His eyebrows arched. “You’re refusing to touch a crime scene?” He gestured toward the door. “With tape and everything?”
Well, when he put it that way. I approached the doorway and leaned forward, craning my neck to get a glimpse of the interior. A closed-in, musty smell chafed my nostrils, and tasted spoiled against my tongue.
“Out of the hall. Now.” Adam moved behind me, crowding me into the apartment.
“Yeesh. Give a girl some space.” I turned in a circle and looked around the living room. Every wall was covered with pictures of Shauna.
“You okay?” Adam asked.
I shook my head. “No way. There’s nothing okay about this.” I reached for him, grabbed on.
He uncurled my fingers from his shirt, held my hands loosely, and waited.
“There’s no way in hell I’m going to touch anything in this apartment,” I said, looking right at him. “Not a single thing.”
He wrinkled his forehead. “That’s why you’re here.”
“No, that isn’t why I’m here. If I touch anything, I’ll have nightmares for a year.” I wrapped my arms around my ribs and held on. “The images from a mind this sick…no. This isn’t something I can do.”
“It didn’t bother you to touch his body.”
“How do you figure?” I glared at him. “It knocked me on my butt. And he was dead, Adam. If I touch these pictures—” I waved my hands around— “I’ll pick up what he was feeling when he stuck them on the wall. It’s different.”
I spun on my Jimmy Choo heel and marched from the apartment. Adam followed, closed and locked the door behind us. I stopped, looked back at him, needing to see his expression.
“It’s okay,” he said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “The guy was—”
“Twisted. Seriously twisted.”
a Touch of TNT (An Everly Gray Adventure) Page 22