“It went somewhere, and it sure looks like somebody took something off her finger. That’s the only logical explanation for why it wasn’t in her personal effects.”
“Unless she pawned it, or gave it back, or lost it,” Daesha pointed out.
“She didn’t need money. I’m sure your parents were helping her, am I right?” Daesha nodded. “She could’ve given it back or lost it, but don’t you think it’s weird that you’ve never seen it again?”
“Yeah, I definitely do.”
“Then I need this photo. I’ll see if the forensics lab can blow it up so we can clearly see the ring, and then we can start looking. But I promise, I’ll get this picture back to you in the same condition it’s in now, okay?” She nodded again. “So we may have just found a new piece of evidence.”
“I hope so.” Daesha sat back in the softness of the sofa and sighed. “It’s about time.”
“I think so too.” He dropped back beside her and pulled her against him, his arm around her shoulder. “So where am I going tomorrow night?”
“It’s a place in Louisville called the Chesterfield. It’s like a bourbon bar or something.”
“Bourbon! That sounds pretty damn awesome.” Amos was thrilled. He could hear his girlfriend sing and have bourbon too. How much better could a night be?
His girlfriend. Holy shit, I’ve got a girlfriend! his brain crowed. A girlfriend for Amos Fletcher. What was the world coming to? The thought made him laugh, and he must’ve laughed just a little out loud because Daesha asked, “What’s so funny?”
“I just realized that I can tell people I have a girlfriend.” He laughed again.
“Why is that funny?”
“Because I’m almost forty and I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You’re so silly.” He started to say something, but she interrupted him with, “Oh, and by the way, thanks for taking care of Ivory this morning. I was shocked when I got home and found her in the back pasture. I was afraid she’d spend all day in the barn.”
“Nope. That’s where you said you wanted her, so that’s where I put her. After I fed her, of course,” he added.
“Grain?”
“Uh … Was I supposed to give her grain?”
It was Daesha’s turn to laugh. “I’ll show you. You couldn’t have known, and you wouldn’t know how much to feed her.”
“Whew! I thought I’d really screwed up,” Amos said and pantomimed wiping his brow.
“Nah. It’s not like she’s going to starve. I had that pasture disked and planted with fescue before I ever put her out there. The grass is in good shape.”
“Good. She’s probably mad at me now,” he said and chuckled.
Daesha laughed at him. “I dunno about that, but I’m sure you’re not her favorite person.”
He kissed her forehead and gave her a squeeze. “So I’ll go in here and clean up the mess from the pie if you want to get ready for bed.”
“You need to get ready for bed too, don’t you?”
“Nope. Already did that. All I’ll need to do is brush my teeth. You run along. Scoot!” He made a shooing motion, and she hopped up and headed down the hallway.
It only took him a minute or two to clean up the kitchen, and then he made his way to the bedroom with two bottles of water. Once he’d set them down, he went to the hallway bathroom, brushed his teeth, and went back to the bed. She was already there, sitting up and resting back against the pillows, and the smile she gave him when she walked in lit up the entire room. “Hey, handsome,” she purred, “got a girlfriend?”
“Matter of fact, I have, but I can cheat on her with you,” he answered with a snicker and climbed into bed with her. “God, I missed you today,” he whispered and kissed her. In seconds, they were both under the covers, kissing and touching and almost panting.
Amos Fletcher was in heaven. She was the girl of his dreams, and she was in his arms. How lucky could one man be?
She took him out to the barn the next morning before she left for work and showed him the big old can she kept in the grain. “Fill it up and pour it in the bucket. Plus put the hay in the net. She’ll love you forever,” she told him as they walked out of the barn.
As soon as she left, he had his morning run. Luckily, he didn’t run into Matt that morning or he might’ve given the guy a good smacking around. He called the office on his way and let them know he was going to the forensics lab first. His hope was that by getting it there early, one of their forensics experts would get right on it.
He hadn’t been in the office for ten minutes when his email pinged, and he opened it to find a huge picture of the ring. And he was stunned.
It was definitely a logo of some kind. There were some swoopy things, and something that looked a little like a cross, and more shapes. Amos couldn’t tell what the hell it was supposed to be. There was something included in it, incorporated in it, but he couldn’t figure out what. Then another text came in.
BTW, FWIW, there’s a mark on the side of the ring. That’s from the artist. It’s personal. Kind of like a signature. Find the artist and you’ll find out who commissioned the ring.
Good ol’ Eric. He always came through.
“Hey, Jesse?”
From across the office he heard his coworker say, “Yeah?”
“When you get a minute, I want to show you something.” Amos stared at it. Where had he seen that before? He felt a presence behind him and in a second, Jesse was peering over his shoulder. “Ring. We think this is the ring that was taken off her hand.”
“Wow. What is that design?”
Amos shrugged. “Hell if I know.”
“Can you shoot that to me and Alex too?”
Amos hit Forward and in seconds, it went to both men. “Thanks for looking at it.”
“Hey, what is this?” Alex called out from the break room.
“It’s a ring we think Dorinda Wilkerson Blackmon was wearing when she was killed.”
Alex yelled back, “That’s a weird looking thing!”
“Yeah. I know. I’m trying to figure it out.” He was careful not to mention the artist’s mark. That was something he’d investigate himself.
“Hey, Amos,” he heard Mack call, “have they assigned that forensic audit team yet?”
“I’ll check. I turned in everything yesterday, so they should at least be in the process.” Jesse went back to what he’d been doing and Amos started checking on the audit investigation.
The afternoon passed quickly and before he knew it, it was time to go and he hadn’t had a chance to look at the picture one more time. He made one last-ditch effort and showed it to Mack, but his supervisor said the same thing―he couldn’t make sense of it.
By the time he stopped at his house, got some clean clothes and dropped off dirty ones, and got to Daesha’s, she was already home. “What time do we have to leave?” he asked as he kissed her hello.
“We go on at eight, so I need to be there by about seven fifteen or seven thirty.”
“Let’s just get something to eat on the way, whaddya say?”
She grinned. “Sounds good to me. I need to go change.”
Amos sat down in the living room and turned on the evening news. She was gone for a few minutes and when she stepped into the living room, all he could do was whistle long and low.
The Daesha who stood before him was very different from the one he knew. She had on skin-tight, black leather pants and over-the-knee boots, flat and combat-styled. Above that she wore a lacy tee. Under it was a corset of black leather, and he could see the laces up the back. There was a wide leather bracelet on each of her wrists, and her fingers were covered in rings, all kinds of silver rings. He wanted to tell her about Dorinda’s ring, but he didn’t really have time, and he was too stunned at the way she looked anyway. When she leaned down to grab her bag, he saw her earrings, huge silver things that sparkled as she moved. If that was what she intended to get on stage in, he�
��d have to watch the male population of the bar.
They ate at a place that served burgers and mussels―odd combination, but oddly delicious―and headed downtown. When they parked, Amos looked around and had to think for a second. He really wanted to take his gun, but it was illegal to take a gun into a bar in Kentucky. He’d checked it out on the internet, and it didn’t have food, so it wouldn’t qualify as a restaurant. Reluctantly, he locked the Beretta in his glove box and took Daesha’s hand as they walked down the street.
The bar was already crowded, and he could tell it was going to be a capacity night, or maybe over capacity. He’d be watching that for fire code violations. “I’m going up with the guys. See you after our first set, okay?” When she leaned in and kissed him, he squeezed her upper arms gently and wished they could just go back home.
As they got everything set up and checked, Amos looked around the room. It was mostly people in their thirties and forties, couples or small groups, with a smattering of fifty-something guys hanging out at the bar. He parked himself at the end of the bar and told the bartender that he was a KDCI agent. When the bartender offered him drinks all night on the house, he politely declined and told the young man he’d gladly pay for his drinks. They had an extensive list of bourbons, but he asked for water. The band hadn’t even started playing, and he didn’t want to get toasted. He wanted to watch and listen.
At five before eight, he smiled when he saw her eyes scan the crowd, and when her gaze landed on him, she gave him a thumbs up. He returned that with a little wave and watched as they all seemed to take their places―five guys and her. He remembered her telling him that they’d be doing eighties and nineties music, and he wondered what kind of stuff they’d chosen.
And then, in an instant, Daesha took the mic. “Hey, y’all, havin’ a good Friday?” There was a general mumbling around the bar. “Do I have any Aussies in the house tonight?”
A guy who looked to be in his late twenties stood. “Canberra!”
“I need you to help me out. You’ll know what to do.” She nodded at the drummer and he twirled his sticks before he smacked a drumhead.
Amos recognized it instantly―AC/DC’s “TNT”. The drummer and the rhythm guitarist played the first two measures and, before he could take it all in, the Australian guy was up on the bar, fists raised, and he yelled in time with the music, “Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi!” Daesha was doing the same from the stage, and before she got to the first verse, the entire bar was on their feet, joining in the ruckus.
And boy, could she belt it out! He watched, mesmerized, as Daesha opened her vocal chords and filled the bar with an intensity that seemed impossibly huge for a body as small as hers. The original song was sung by a man, but she covered it with a voice that was completely different from the lilting, sweet, soft voice in which she’d sung the songs Jack and Aleta had chosen for their wedding. Everything about her was raw, gritty, and hard, and he tried not to let his mouth drop open and his chin hit the floor. She danced in front of the lead guitarist as he ran riffs that would rival Jimmy Page’s skills. The whole place was dancing, screaming, and singing along, and the Aussie guy was still on the bar, playing air guitar. He snatched a glance at the bartender and found the guy grinning and nodding along with the music. When the younger man caught Amos looking his way, he walked down with a smile. “She’s pretty damn awesome, huh?”
“Yeah. She is,” Amos said, agreeing. “That’s my girlfriend.”
“Then you’re a lucky sumbitch, buddy. I don’t care if you have money―you’re getting a drink on the house for managing to catch that beautiful woman.” An on-the-rocks glass with two fingers of lovely amber liquid appeared in front of Amos, and he grinned. Boy, the evening was turning out to be quite an eye-opener.
When they finished the song, there was clapping, screaming, and whistling all over the bar. She bowed, but not before bowing to the band, and they all nodded to her. “You guys having fun tonight?” she yelled into the mic to a chorus of “hell yeahs” and “fuck yeahs.” “We’re Limestone Legends. Lemme introduce you to the guys. Over here on the bass guitar is Gary Smothers. He’s one fucking amazing bassist. Right here in the house is his wife, Beth.” Daesha yelled, “Raise your hand, Beth!”
A younger woman in red leather threw up her hands and yelled, “WOOO!”
“There she is, folks. When you get a chance, go by and offer her your condolences, and ask her how an ugly motherfucker like Gary managed to get a babe like her!” The whole bar laughed. “And over here, on rhythm guitar, is Barry Galloway. Don’t get too close to him. He’ll lean over you and tell you to open your mouth.” A bunch of people in the bar laughed. “He’s a dental hygienist by day. And back here on keyboards is the Korg wizard, Rocky Penny! Rocky’s got a heavy hand from all that pounding he does all day with a hammer in his hand.” Amos took it to mean he was a carpenter. “Back here is our best drummer, Marcus Colby! Well, okay, he’s our only drummer! But if you’ve got a body to hide and you want to give them some concrete shoes for Christmas, Marcus is your man.” The drummer twirled a stick in the air and pounded out Badda-rump-bump-CHING!
Somebody in the back screamed, “WOOOO!” and Amos laughed.
“And here, right here, on this stage, is one of the finest guitarists I’ve ever met, Mr. Greg Wiley!” People screamed and clapped, and Amos wondered if they knew him. “I see his posse has followed him here tonight. Glad y’all could come,” Daesha said, pointing around the room. Apparently the guy had a following. “Greg’s a magician. Did y’all know that?” The room laughed and people shook their heads. “I’ve never seen anything like it. He can make a beer completely disappear, folks! Bottle and all! But watch him. He likes to take people’s money.” Ah, yeah. She’d told Amos there was a banker in the band. That must’ve been him.
“And me? I’m Daesha Wilkerson, and my superpower is teaching grownups to walk without falling over. True story. We’re glad y’all have come out tonight, and we’re going to try to give you a good time without breaking anybody in half, so let’s rock ‘n roll!”
What commenced from that point was something Amos would never forget. Daesha’s voice ground through Audioslave’s “Set It Off,” explicit lyrics and all. In minutes, she was singing a Bon Jovi ballad, and that was followed by R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion,” “Under the Bridge” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy.” At that point, she yelled, “Are y’all havin’ a good time?” and the bar exploded with screaming and cheering. “I’m gonna give Gary the mic and we’re gonna hit some Metallica. That okay with you guys?” More screaming.
To Amos’s surprise, Daesha donned a guitar and away they went with Gary singing lead. Daesha skipped over to where Greg was standing and they started to play. There was no holding back at that point―Amos was on his feet with everybody else, and he marveled at the six of them. They were crushing the cover, and he had to blink a couple of times to make sure it wasn’t Hetfield singing. Daesha ripped the lighter lead parts above the rhythm guitar, leaning into the mic for the harmonies, and Amos wanted to run to the stage, rip her clothes off, and fuck her right there in front of everybody. The woman was powerful, a force to be reckoned with plugged into an amp, and the crowd was eating it up.
They followed up with Saliva’s “Click Click Boom” and then slowed it down with U2’s “Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” When they finished it, Daesha stuck the mic in the stand and leaned in. “We’re takin’ ten, y’all. Hang around. There’s more to come.” Somebody off to the side tossed towels to the band members, and that was the first time Amos realized that Daesha was drenched in sweat. She was working under the hot lights, and he didn’t know how she kept going, but it was obvious she loved every minute of it.
He was grinning from ear to ear when she stepped up to him at the bar. “Well? Whaddya think?”
“My god, woman, I’m just totally blown away. That was pretty fucking amazing.”
“Thanks! Can you grab me a drink? Lemon-li
me soda. I’m going to the restroom. Be right back.” Amos watched as she walked away, and she hadn’t made it five steps before a guy grabbed her arm and stopped her. He could feel something rising up in his chest as he heard her say, “No, I’m with the band. I’m not free for the night. Sorry.” He was on his feet, and then he felt a hand grip his arm.
It was Greg standing there. “Hey, you’re Amos, right?”
Amos pointed at the guy he wanted to punch. “Yeah, I―”
“Watch.” Greg pointed and Amos saw the keyboardist, Rocky, fall into step about five feet behind Daesha. He followed her down the hallway until she disappeared into the restroom. “Look, man, I know you want to be protective of her, but that’s the way it is when a woman’s in a band. But you never, never have to worry. We’re always watching her, and somebody’s just a few steps from her at all times. I guarantee if you walked back into that hallway, you’d find Rocky standing outside the ladies’ room door. She’s like our little sister. We wouldn’t let anything happen to her. But if you go after every guy who grabs her ass or tries to kiss her or grope her, we’d never get to play another gig because you’d get us kicked out of every bar in town. Daesha, she can handle herself, and when she can’t, she’s got us. You never have to worry about her.”
“Uh, thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Amos meant that, but he still wanted to beat the shit out of the jerk.
“You’re welcome. We’ve got this, man. Let us do our jobs and you just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Liking it so far?”
“God, you guys are incredible. I mean, it’s just … she’s just …”
Greg laughed. “Yeah, I know! She’s pretty fucking awesome. The next set will be different, so you’ll get to see her execute some other vocals that you’d never dream she could pull off. By the way, thanks for coming tonight, and I hope you come back.”
“I will.” Amos laughed. “I guess I can honestly say I’m with the band!”
“Hey, if you’re good enough for Daesha, you’re good enough for us!” Greg extended his hand and Amos shook it. Some of the dread gathering in his gut dissipated just knowing the guys were watching out for her.
Justice for Daesha Page 10