by KyAnn Waters
“I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” she said. “Besides I’m not going to get out of bed for a week when I get home.”
He watched her over the edge of his cup as he took a sip of his coffee. “Sounds appealing.”
“Will you have to go to the station as soon as we get back?”
“I might.” One of his eyebrows rose as he considered the question. “I’ll call Tyson in a couple of hours. Find out what’s happening. I know he’ll want to recanvas your neighborhood. My instincts tell me we’re looking in the wrong place. I’m hoping the last couple of days will help give me a new perspective.”
She rolled her cup between her palms. “When are you going to make time for Janie?”
Dustin groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s complicated.”
“It shouldn’t be. Don’t let her believe for one minute that she isn’t on your mind. Trust me on this. Elliot wasn’t a good father.” But Dustin could be, she thought, not having the courage to speak it.
“Ready to go?” he asked as he stood.
“Is this your way of saying, mind your own business?”
“Yes.”
A lump lodged in her throat. “I’m sorry I interfered.”
“You haven’t. But I also don’t think this is the time or place to discuss my relationship with Janie.”
They walked back through the terminal, found their gate, sat in hard plastic chairs and waited until they could board the plane. Televisions throughout the terminal aired cable news. Dustin was quiet and appeared absorbed in the national headlines. Her tummy knotted with all the unknowns. After chasing leads, searching for evidence, and uncovering truths, she still had more questions than answers. In addition, there was still a murderer out there.
“I wish you could take your gun on the plane.”
He stiffened beside her. “Why?”
“It isn’t that I don’t think you could protect us,” she stumbled.
“A gun is a great equalizer, but it doesn’t compensate for being observant and knowing your surroundings. You’ll probably never be in a situation where you need a gun. But if it gives you a sense of security, I’ll teach you how to shoot.”
She perked up. “I’ve never thought of owning my own piece. After what has happened, maybe it is a good idea.”
“Look at you, sounding like a cop. Tyson would be proud.” Dustin pinched the bridge of his nose. He yawned, stretched and widened his bloodshot eyes. “Before you score your own piece, you need to know how to safely own a gun.”
McKenna glanced at Dustin. He was trying hard to fight off fatigue, but she could see the night had been hard on him. A deep sigh escaped her parted lips. She couldn’t help but wonder how their relationship would change when they got home. And on the forefront was the sleeping arrangement. “I’m tired, too.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Get you home and take you to bed.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze.
“I like the sound of that.” Her eyelids grew heavy and she closed her eyes. “I’m just going to rest my eyes.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple.
It felt as if her eyes had barely closed when Dustin nudged her. “Come on Mickey, they’re ready to board.”
* * * * *
It was early. Too early in the morning for Dawn to be out of bed, however, she was waiting for Tyson when he pulled into the driveway of the Porter’s house a little before six in the morning. He’d called, and she’d rushed over to help him go over the crime scene again. She’d stopped for a couple of lattes and now waved from her perch on the porch. In her other hand, she fingered McKenna’s spare house key. For years, the key had been hidden under a decorative green rock in the flowerbed.
“Mickey called me a few minutes after you left,” she said as he approached. “They’re getting a flight home.”
“Yeah, I got the same call from Dustin.”
She handed him a latte, and the house key. Tyson unlocked the door, and Dawn followed him in. After she disarmed the alarm system, they went to the kitchen where Tyson brought her up to date on what happened with the Marinos.
“I don’t know where we’ll find it, but there’s something we missed. I’ve been doing this shit for seven years. Most murders aren’t committed by strangers. More than likely the good doctor was offed by someone he knew. There’s a clue here, Dawn, you’ve spent a lot of time in this house. Does anything strike you as out of place?”
She turned a three-sixty. “I’m telling you, Elliot kept this place like a museum.”
Tyson hung his suit jacket over the back of a chair. “It’s a big house. I’ll start upstairs.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Search down here.” He took a sip of his latte.
“For what?”
“Baby, I wish I knew.
Chapter Eighteen
McKenna breathed in the stifling stale air of Dustin’s truck. The foul smell of brine shrimp was coming off the lake, and McKenna didn’t care. They were home, and she felt rejuvenated from the lethargy of the flight.
“I have butterflies in my stomach,” she said. “First, I want a long bubble bath, and then I’m going to roll around in my silk pajamas.”
Dustin briefly glanced in her direction. “I want cold beer and a race on the television. Then I’m going to put my feet up for a long while.”
She pictured him sitting on his dilapidated couch without a shirt while the air conditioner fought to keep the small apartment bearable. He’d have the top snap of his jeans undone. Her mouth went as dry as the air around them. Whom was she kidding? She wanted him lying with her, under the cool, cotton sheets of her bed with central air blowing over them. “Where will your feet be, your couch or mine?”
A smile spread across his mouth. “Is that an offer to let me put my feet on your couch?”
“Unless you’d rather I come to your house.”
“Let’s go to your place.” Dustin drove through town and pulled into her neighborhood. Her heart pounded as the large house came into view.
He took the clicker from the glove box, raised the garage door, pulled in and parked next to her car.
“We’re home.”
“Leave the luggage,” she said. “I’m too tired to unpack, and I don’t want it staring at me as a reminder that we’re not in Los Angeles and not alone anymore.” She slid out of the truck, unlocked the kitchen door and waited for Dustin to follow her into the house.
“Technically,” he closed the door behind them, “no one knows were back yet.” He bumped her against the kitchen wall and covered her mouth with his. The blade of his tongue sliced across her bottom lip, parted her mouth and stole inside. Heat unfurled in her core. She twined her arms around his neck and pressed closer. Tingles tightened her nipples as his erection nudged her tummy.
“You don’t seem tired now.” She angled her head, and his tongue trailed to her collarbone.
“I’ve been stiff since the plane landed, and the situation has only grown harder the closer we drove to your house.” He pressed his hips against hers, grinding his arousal into her heated mound. “Let me in, Mickey.” He breathed against her neck. “Right now.”
He pulled the snap of her jeans and lowered the zipper.
“Hurry.” She wriggled out of her jeans. Dustin tore her panties off, lifted her onto the counter and spread her thighs. His lips found hers again as he parted her hot folds and slipped his finger deep into her wet core. While kissing her mouth, penetrating and touching with one hand, he worked the fly of his slacks open with his other hand.
“Hi, guys, we’re glad you’re home.” Tyson walked into the kitchen and froze.
“Fuck!” Dustin quickly zipped his fly. “Fuck!” he cried again when he snagged a pubic hair in his haste. “What in the hell are you doing here?” He tried to shield McKenna, but there was no way to hide the fact that she was naked from the waist down.
Dawn peered around Tyson and
started to laugh. “That’s my girl,” she said, stepping into the room.
“Could you give us a minute?” Dustin snarled.
“How about ten? Come on, baby,” she said and pulled on Tyson’s arm.
Dustin handed McKenna her jeans. “What in the hell are they doing here?”
She jumped from the counter and pulled on her jeans.
“We’re parked in front of the house,” Tyson yelled from the hall. “It’s not like we snuck in.”
“Well, you can go now. Thanks for the welcome home.” His condescending tone dripped with sarcasm.
“We are going to finish this,” he whispered to McKenna. “Are you okay?” He pulled her into his arms.
“Your partner just walked in on us. No, I’m not okay. Dawn’s the exhibitionist, not me.” She spoke into his chest, muffling her voice, as he held her and ran his hand down the ladder of her back. Embarrassment heated her cheeks and her pulse raced.
“Don’t get pissy,” Dawn called. “You’re going to be very nice to us when you see what we’ve found. So are you decent?”
“Yes,” McKenna answered and walked to the fridge. She took two beers and handed one to Dustin. “We need a drink, and I don’t care that it’s before noon.”
“Beer?” Dawn asked with raised eyebrows.
It didn’t feel like morning because they hadn’t been to bed. McKenna tipped the bottle and drank.
“You won’t believe this shit,” Tyson said, following Dawn into the room.
Dustin tipped the bottle back and guzzled. “I already don’t believe this shit.”
“What did you find?” McKenna asked.
“Elliot wasn’t murdered,” Dawn blurted out. “Tell her, Tyson.”
“I think you did.” He smiled. “Elliot wasn’t murdered.” Tyson leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
“Suicide? Some of those initial emails we found from Roslyn could’ve implied a pact.”
“Elliot Porter didn’t die in that room.”
McKenna didn’t understand what Tyson implied. “If he didn’t die in his room, then where is his body?”
“Did you find him?” Dustin asked.
“Yes and no. Let me show you.” He disappeared down the hall and came back with a brown paper bag. “I thought since we were breaking all the rules on this one, it wouldn’t hurt to hold off on calling in forensics.”
Dawn moved to stand next to McKenna and put her arm around her waist. “Wait until you see what we’ve found.”
“You’re scaring me,” McKenna said, setting her beer on the counter before she dropped it. “Tell me you didn’t find a body part.”
“Well, sort of, but not what you’re thinking. It’ll be okay.” Dawn soothed McKenna’s nerves as she had done at the onset of this nightmare. “Mickey, everything makes sense now. Tyson figured it out.” Dawn turned adoring eyes to him. “He’s amazing.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that about him.”
“Hey now, has Dustin been telling my secrets?”
“No, I haven’t said a thing.” Dustin pointed at McKenna. “Don’t rat on me. Until I’m back on duty, we’re still partners. And partners watch each other’s backs.”
McKenna smiled. “He hasn’t said anything. Now what in the hell’s in the bag?”
“Oh, no, she’s resorted to foul language,” Dawn teased. “Hurry, Tyson.”
“This isn’t the time for jokes.” McKenna hands balled into fists.
Dawn chuckled then gave McKenna a squeeze. “Okay, no more teasing. Tell her, Tyson.”
“Let me enlighten you.” He dumped the contents onto the counter.
“I’ll be damned.” Dustin picked up the clear evidence bag. “Son of a bitch! Where’d you find it?”
“In the deep freeze wrapped in butcher paper.”
“I don’t understand,” McKenna said. Dustin tossed the evidence bag in front of her. She hesitantly picked it up. Dark red and thick liquid coated the blood bag.
Dustin hopped up to sit on the counter. “You expect to find certain pieces of evidence at a crime scene. Blood splatter, trace evidence, something to tell us what happened.”
“That was our problem with your bloody bedroom,” Tyson said.
“We couldn’t find anything that should’ve been there,” Dustin continued.
Tyson grabbed the bag and tossed it from one hand to the other. “With the exception of the good old doctor’s juice.”
“Even the blood evidence didn’t answer many questions,” Dustin said. “Blood established D.N.A. but left us puzzled.”
Tyson handed the bag to Dustin. “We don’t have a murder weapon. Without Dr. Porter’s body, we didn’t know what to look for.”
“Gunshot was ruled out because there wasn’t stippling anywhere in the house.” Tyson went to the fridge. “Why would anyone risk bringing him back to his room just to let him bleed out?” He popped the top of a soda. “Left us thinking that we either had a ritual killing or perhaps a professional hit.”
“Ritual killings are rare,” Dustin said. “Therefore we leaned toward a professional hit.” He arched an eyebrow. “Enter the Marinos.”
“It was our best lead.” Tyson leaned against the wall, and Dawn stepped into his arms.
“Then we’re back at the beginning. The Marinos are criminals, but they didn’t kill my father.”
Dustin picked up the evidence bag and flipped it in his hand. “We don’t have a murder. We have a missing person.”
Chapter Nineteen
McKenna’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the counter. “I need to sit down.”
“Are you going to pass out again?” He jumped from the counter.
McKenna shook her head. Her throat tightened and pressure weighted on her chest. “Elliot. How could he?” Breath swooshed from her lungs.
“Are you sick?” Tyson asked. “Because you look pale.”
“She always looks pale.” Dawn lightly punched Tyson in the stomach. “But hell, next to you everyone looks pale.”
“She’s not sick.” Dustin held a chair for her then pulled one over so he could sit next to her. “She finally understands.”
McKenna stared into Dustin’s face. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she wasn’t going to cry…not here in front of Tyson, Dawn and Dustin…and not for Elliot. “I know what you want to ask me, and the answer is yes. Elliot could’ve planned the whole thing.” She pointed to her beer. “I need a drink.”
“You need something stronger than this,” Tyson said, handing her the bottle of beer.
“Tell us about Dr. Porter.” Dustin took her hand in his. “Not your dad, not Elliot, but the doctor.”
She slipped her hand out of his and combed her hair out of her eyes with her fingers. “Dr. Porter’s passion was research. He had several degrees, and yes, he had a doctorate in medicine.” She looked at the bag of blood on the counter. “He could’ve drawn his own blood.”
Dustin’s hand slapped the table. “Fuck! It was all staged. Mickey goes to yoga. Elliot sees his opportunity and takes it.”
“If you’ll excuse me.” She abruptly stood and hurried from the room. They might be excited to solve the case, but this was worse than believing he’d been murdered by the Marinos.
“Mickey.” Dawn scrambled after her, but Tyson snaked out a hand and caught her before she could follow.
“Dawn, let her go.” Dustin clasped his hands between his widespread knees. “She realizes the implication of what this means.”
“What?” Dawn asked.
“Elliot framed her for the murder by leaving the note. He knew we’d look at her for a possible suspect. Without the note, she probably would’ve been taken off the list right away. He set her up as surely as he set the stage for his murder.”
Dawn let out a breath and sat down. “That is why he signed the note dad, instead of just Elliot.”
“He needed a murder. A missing person would go unsolved, and he wanted to disappear—permanently.” Dustin pac
ed across the floor then slammed his fist against the counter, startling Dawn. “Damn him.”
“He won’t get away with it,” Dawn said. “Now that you know the truth, find him, arrest him, and make him pay for what he’s done to Mickey.”
“The case won’t be ours anymore. He’s left the country. The feds will take it over.” Dustin tipped his beer, took a sip, then paused. “What on earth possessed you to look in the freezer?” He glanced at Tyson. “How’d you know the blood bag was wrapped in butcher paper?”
Dawn started to laugh. “He was hungry. I suggested we take out a couple steaks to grill tonight. The wrapper wasn’t labeled.”
Dustin picked up the bag of blood. “Take it to forensics. If it matches the blood found at the scene, we’ve solved our murder.”
“And got ourselves a missing person.” Tyson took the evidence and put it back in the paper bag. “You ready?” he asked Dawn.
“Yeah, I think Mickey could use some time alone. Do you want to come with us?” she asked Dustin.
He shook his head. “I’m staying put.” He waited until he heard the front door close and then climbed the stairs to find McKenna.
McKenna stood in Elliot’s bedroom and tried to imagine him setting the gruesome scene. It wasn’t just that he’d been a bad father because he’d known all along that she wasn’t his biological daughter. He’d hated her. What other explanation could there be?
“Are you okay?” Dustin stood in the doorway.
“I never did anything to deserve this.” She hadn’t been aware that she was crying until tears slipped down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. “What does this prove?” She threw her hands wide. “You win,” she screamed to the ceiling. “So you hated me because I look like my mother.” She turned to Dustin. “I’m sorry she hurt him. But I was a child and he hurt me.” She spun around in a circle and clawed her scalp with her nails. “He set me up! How could his hatred run so deep that he’d want to see me suffer and punished for murder?”
Dustin leaned against the doorjamb. “I don’t know.”