She tipped her head and lifted one eyebrow. “You know, I don’t know why, but that does sound good. Just plain ol’ hard-boiled eggs.”
“Yeah. That would be perfect. You should suggest that.”
The laugh she let loose made him smile. For someone who’d experienced so much tragedy, she laughed and smiled easily. “I will! More beer?”
“Yes! I think so!” He watched as she motioned for a server. In a couple of minutes, he had a Hefeweizen sitting in front of him. “So do you have any idea who this mystery man might be?”
Daesha shook her head. “Nope. That’s the part I’m trying to figure out. I mean, several people had seen her out and about, but the men were always different. It didn’t seem she was seeing one person.”
“Maybe that was the problem. Maybe somebody was jealous,” Amos offered.
She shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t know how I’d track them down. Back then there weren’t cameras on every corner like there are now, so there’s no surveillance footage.”
“Did they look at credit card or debit card activity? Or phone records?”
“They claimed they did and found nothing.” She put down her fork and knife and bowed her head a little before she looked up at Amos. “But thanks for listening. I know there’s nothing you can do, and I’m sure you think I’m crazy or something, but I keep trying to find somebody, anybody, who’ll help me. Help us. Well, my mom’s dead now.”
Amos dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “I’m so sorry. When did she die?”
“About three years ago. Her only wish was that we could find Dorinda’s killer, and we never did. I’ll regret that forever.” Something in her eyes told Amos she was hurting, an ache so deep she might never get rid of it. “I came back here and I knew my life was over.”
That didn’t make sense. “Over? What do you mean?”
“I mean, I came back here with a prosthetic. When I’m not at work, I’m trying like hell to work out and keep healthy, and to figure out who killed my sister. Yeah, maybe it’s become an obsession, but it doesn’t matter. Men don’t want me, and my work is demanding, so this is it for me.”
“Don’t say that! You’re a lovely person,” Amos almost yelled.
“A lovely person. Yeah. Look, thanks for trying to be nice about it. I know I’m no catch, and I’m okay with it.” She took another swig of her Hefeweizen and didn’t even look at him.
And that was a shame, because he loved those eyes. They were the oddest shade of light green he’d ever seen, and something in them captivated him. “It sounds to me like you’d be a great catch.”
“Right.” Her beer mug hit the table with a thunk and she wiped her lips with her napkin. “Do you want dessert?”
Yeah, I’d like you for dessert, Amos heard his brain whisper, and he recoiled in horror. Dear god, what was going on? He didn’t find her that attractive. Or did he? She was certainly a good-looking woman; no, downright pretty. He hadn’t paid that much attention before, but he took a different look at her. She was plenty tall enough for him. Her hair was gorgeous, and so were those eyes. Full, lush lips finished off a face with high cheekbones and a beautiful, straight, slim nose. Her eyebrows weren’t bushy, and that was good. He hated bushy eyebrows.
But the rest of her? Hubba-hubba, Amos thought and almost laughed aloud. Her shoulders were square, not sloping, and she had willowy limbs, almost like a dancer. The rest of her was soft and round, with a pair of nice-sized tits and that ass he’d watched wander away from him at the reception. In all, her bearing was … regal. That’s how he’d describe it. “Um, no. I think I’ll pass on dessert,” he said before he had a chance to change his mind. “By the way, you never told me what your dad does.”
“You know the Cheeky Donuts chain? The one with the commercials of the little kid with the chubby cheeks?”
“Yeah.”
“He owns the franchise. Forty-eight states and Vancouver.”
Holy shit. The guy was rich. Amos had read an estimate the year before that said Cheeky Donuts was the number one franchise opportunity in the nation, and the owner was worth several million dollars. “Your dad is the Cheeky Donuts guy?”
“Yeah. He named the business after Dorinda and me. When we were kids, we had chubby little cheeks.” She grinned, and he could almost see her child self grinning at him. “I own an interest in the business. My sister did too, but it was non-transferrable. We wondered if Max knew that before she died, or if he thought he’d get her interest in the business as a survivor.” She lightly slapped the tabletop. “He. Did. Not.”
“Good. Bastard didn’t deserve any of it,” Amos said plainly.
“No, he didn’t. The divorce was his idea. She wanted it to work. At least I thought she did, but now … I’m not certain of anything anymore. Sometimes I wonder if I even knew her at all.”
“Don’t doubt that, Daesha. You knew your sister. She just had parts of her life that were hers and weren’t shared, that’s all.”
“I guess we all do.” She stopped, then smiled. “Hey, would you like a Cheeky Donut as your dessert? There’s a place right down the street, and I get them free, so …” She pointed toward Louisville and shrugged.
“Nah, but thanks. I should probably get going, but this was fun. Nope,” he said as she reached for her purse. “My treat.”
“I invited you. I should pay,” she said, shaking her head.
“No. I insist.” He grabbed her check and stacked it with his, then put his debit card in the mix.
“Well, thank you. Is there any chance you’d be able to look at her files at some point?” Amos wasn’t sure what kind of expression passed over his face, but she said, “Oh, I’m sorry. That’ll take up your time, and I’ve already taken up too much of it. Never mind.”
“No, no! I’d be glad to.” He thought about his schedule for the week. “What have you got going on Tuesday night?”
“Nothing. Same for almost every other night.”
“Okay. How ‘bout if I swing by and pick them up?”
She laughed loudly. “Nobody ‘swings by’ my place! It’s not exactly on the beaten path.”
“So it’s out of the way! No biggie. Give me your phone number and address and I’ll let you know when I’m headed there.”
“How ‘bout I fix dinner? Could you stand a home-cooked meal?” she asked, and he took a good look at her face. She wasn’t scheming. She was just being friendly and genuine.
“Sure. That sounds great. So I’ll give you a call on Tuesday when I get off work.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Amos. I really appreciate it.” She sat there for what felt like an awkward minute before she stood. “Well, um, I think I’ll, um, get going,” she said, thumbing at the door over her shoulder. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”
He’d stood too, smiled, and extended his hand. “Yep. See you Tuesday.” But when she took it, something happened.
There was a connection there, and that startled Amos. He hadn’t anticipated it, but he couldn’t say it was unwelcome. He just hadn’t anticipated it being with her. She was so not his type. As soon as she took her hand from his, he missed it. It was warm and soft, and he wanted to hold it a while longer. “Well, see ya,” she said and turned to walk out. He watched her pretty backside as she went, her limp almost invisible. People who didn’t know her wouldn’t even notice.
Amos sat back down to finish his Hefeweizen and the server came to pick up the check and his card. Before the young man left, he looked down at Amos. “I see you know Miss Daesha,” he said with a smile.
Amos nodded. “Yeah, just met her at my brother’s reception. She’s very nice.”
He was shocked as he watched the young man’s face darken and his eyes go sad. “Don’t hurt her. She’s a very nice person and she’s had enough hurt for a lifetime.” With that, he turned on his heel and headed to the server’s stand where the card reader was located.
The server knew her. He bet if he asked, the owner knew her too. After signing th
e ticket, he headed to his car, and he decided that donut didn’t sound so bad after all. Pulling up in the parking lot, he ambled in and looked in the cases. A young girl of about seventeen asked, “Can I help you?”
“Sure. I think I’ll have one of those right there,” he said, pointing to a Bavarian cream with chocolate glazing. “Oh, and one of those too. And two of those right there.” He’d intended to buy a donut, not a dozen, but they were beautiful and smelled amazing. “Plus three glazed, three cream-filled with vanilla icing, and two of those pretty chocolate cake ones with the fancy frosting.” As the employee boxed the donuts, he decided to step out on a limb. “I know the owner’s daughter, and she told me to come down here and take a look.”
“Miss Daesha?” the girl asked, glancing up at him with a smile.
“Yeah. Just met her last night at my brother’s reception.”
“I love her. She’s so kind and sweet. The whole family is. They’re really nice people.”
“So you know them all?”
“I’ve known them since I was a very little girl. Miss Daesha’s dad and my grandpa are friends. I hate what happened to her sister. I was a little bitty kid then and I don’t remember it, but everybody else does. And her poor mama. She died a few years back and they didn’t find out who killed Dorinda before Mrs. Wilkerson died. Very sad.”
“So I heard.” He waited as the girl rang it up.
“Three dollars and eighteen cents.”
“Wait.” Amos looked at the board above the counter. “According to that sign, they should be over nine dollars with tax.”
“Nope. You know Miss Daesha, so you get a discount. That’s how we do it here.” She held out her hand. “Three dollars and eighteen cents.”
“But I’ll pay―”
“No. We insist. We like it when hometown people help support the business. That’s all I’m charging you, sir.”
Amos was stunned. The donuts were beautiful and he knew they’d be delicious. And what a kind thing to do for him! “Have you got a tip jar?” The girl pointed to it, and Amos dropped a five dollar bill into it.
“Wow! Thank you, sir! I appreciate it!”
“You’re welcome. Have a nice day.” Carrying his prize, he headed for his car. Yeah, he’d paid almost full price with the tip, but that girl deserved it. She was just a kid, and she’d been very friendly and cheerful.
On Tuesday evening, Daesha was cooking dinner for him, and he wondered what her house would be like. Then he thought about those lips. What would it be like to kiss her? he mused in his head. Shut that down, Fletcher. Nope. Not going there. He’d just look at the files, have dinner, and that would be it. If there was anything else to the case, he’d take them with him and work on it, but he wasn’t getting involved with Daesha Wilkerson.
He simply couldn’t.
Chapter 2
Monday had been hell. They were investigating a sheriff down in the western end of the state. Scratch that―they were prosecuting a sheriff in the western end of the state. And he was being totally uncooperative. Nothing surprising there, but dealing with idiots wasn’t something Amos really enjoyed.
Tuesday was a little better. Of course, that was a matter of perspective. They had sensitivity training in a videoconference with an expert in human trafficking victims. When it came to those victims, you couldn’t be too sensitive.
But it was very depressing stuff, looking at photos of situations trafficking victims had been in, seeing how they’d been injured, and discussing in the comments what could be done to help them from the moment they were recovered from their situation to the time when they were turned over to medical personnel. He was ready for something else.
And then he remembered―looking at a woman’s dead sister’s body in photographs and going over her information. God, that was something he wasn’t looking forward to, and yet he’d promised Daesha.
He was almost home and thinking about what he’d change into when his phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but he got those all the time. Sometimes they were telemarketers, but sometimes they were about cases, so he figured he’d better answer it. “Hello?”
“Amos?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Yes?”
“It’s Daesha.”
“Oh! How’d you get … Jack. Right?”
She laughed. “Yeah. I called him and asked.”
Oh, please, let it be, he murmured in his head. “Do you need to cancel?”
“No! I was just wondering which you preferred, white wine or red?”
“Depends on what I’m eating,” he answered.
She chuckled. “It’s pork, so either is appropriate. You do like pork, right? Oh, yeah, you ate liverwurst. If you’ll eat that, you’ll eat pretty much anything!” she said, laughing.
Amos laughed too. “Now wait a minute! I do have a somewhat-discriminating palate! But you’re right. I love pork. So I’ll go with a red. Got a merlot?”
“I do, a very nice Washington State. Sound okay?”
“Sounds great. I’m just walking in the door so I’ll change and be on my way. ETA of maybe forty minutes?”
“Great! I’ll get everything ready and we can eat as soon as you get here. I’m sure you’re hungry. I didn’t even get lunch today, so I’m famished.”
“Yep. Starving. See you in forty.” They hung up and he smiled. Pork. She couldn’t know, but Amos preferred a good pork chop over a beef steak anytime. That made him look forward to the meal. It sounded like she knew what she was doing.
He was back on the road in just a few minutes, headed straight for Shepherdsville. She didn’t live far off I-65, so it wouldn’t take long once he got to the exit. After taking the ramp, he drove past a gas station, some little restaurants and gift shops, and then out past the old Zappos outlet. The countryside was pretty, and he wondered what her house would look like.
The driveway was fairly long, but the house sat in a pretty spot, trees down both sides and around the back. It appeared to be on a good-sized piece of property that went straight back as far as he could see, with a nice-sized barn behind the house and white post-and-rail fencing. Just on the other side of the fence was a small pond, complete with a little bridge over it. He wondered which of the surrounding houses was Matt’s. Two doors down he spotted a Kentucky State Police cruiser, so that mystery was solved quickly.
He closed the Jeep Liberty’s door and climbed her front steps. The house was pretty traditional-looking, from its white siding and red shutters to the dormers on the roof and the long, deep rocking-chair porch, complete with rockers he was pretty sure came from Cracker Barrel. It had a two-car attached garage, and he wondered if the car he’d seen was the only one she had. He rang the doorbell, but there was no answer. That was when he smelled it.
Pork. And based on the aroma, he’d say it was cooking on a grill. Curious, he walked around the side of the house and to the back.
Daesha stood on the deck, a curlicue metal rod in one hand and a platter in the other. She had a super serious look on her face, and he watched her, grinning the whole time. Grilling was something the men in his family did, and he wasn’t accustomed to seeing a woman standing over one, but he could tell that grill of hers was well-used. It had scorch marks on the end, and the wooden handles looked well-seasoned with meat grease. He couldn’t help himself―he knew she hadn’t seen him standing there, and the temptation was too great, so he called out, “Hark! The grillmistress!”
She jumped and let out a little Eeep! when she turned. “Amos! I swear, is it your goal in life to scare the total bejesus out of me? Because if so, you’re doing it in style!”
He was almost doubled over with laughter. “No, but I have to admit, I do think it’s funny! Need some help?”
“Nah. They’re ready to come off. Sorry I didn’t hear you ring the bell. You did ring the bell, right?” she asked, giving him the side-eye.
“Oh, yeah. But I smelled the grill and I knew why you didn’t answer.” Bounding up the
deck stairs, he took the platter. “Here. I’ll hold it if you want to take them off.” He watched as she used the curly rod. “What the hell is that thing?”
“It’s called a pig-tail flipper. The point is super sharp. You just stick it in the meat to flip it. Works like a charm.”
“Where’d you get that thing? I’ve never seen one before,” he asked, checking it out. The handle was beautiful wood.
“A coworker does woodturning and he made it for me. If you’d like one, I’ll get him to make you one. For looking at the files, you know,” she tacked on.
“That would be awesome. Yeah, I’d love that. My whole family grills. I’ll gladly buy two more from him, one for Dad and one for Jack. They’d like those as gifts.”
She gave him a wink. “I’ll see what I can do. Here we go.”
What she plopped down on the platter were two of the biggest, thickest, juiciest pork chops Amos had ever seen. “Where in the world did you get these? They look delicious.”
“Butcher shop in Radcliff. He cuts them for me. I wanted some especially nice ones to thank you with. Come on. Everything else is ready.” She led the way and Amos followed, carrying the platter like it held gold, frankincense, and myrrh for the Christ child.
He almost gasped. The house was gorgeous. It had a huge kitchen with beautiful granite countertops, and the island in the middle looked like a piece of fine furniture instead of kitchen cabinetry. It was in an open, great room style, and the living room was right there. He could see an enormous fireplace of stone and big, comfortable furniture. The dining furniture off to one side was pretty too, with a large china cabinet full of all kinds of pieces of dinnerware. Everything was burgundy, brown, and cinnamon colors, and he could practically see a fire roaring in the fireplace on a cold night, smell coffee brewing, and feel a soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he reclined on the big brown, red, and cream plaid chaise. The whole place spoke of comfort and coziness. “This is … wow. Your house is beautiful.”
Justice for Daesha Page 3