“But you’re looking at Benson? Tell me you’re looking at Benson.”
“We’re following all logical leads right now.”
King sat quietly, appeared to do nothing more than study the tile on the floor before shaking his head. “That sounds like the answer you give when you’ve got nothing.”
“It’s the answer I give when I’m making sure I arrest the right person.”
Hailey’s dad dropped back in the chair. The lost look, the desperate slouch, made Ty’s chest clench. He knew the role he needed to play, knew how important it was for Mr. King to believe someone cared enough to find the truth.
“Do you have children?” King asked.
Ty shook his head. “No. But I lost my younger sister to murder, so I’ve got a pretty good idea about how this kind of thing affects a family. Hailey matters to me, Mr. King. I wouldn’t be here if she didn’t.”
King nodded and stood. Ty figured he demeanor it was more defeat than understanding. “You’ll call me when you know something?”
“You have my word on it.” Ty walked Mr. King down the hallway to the front office. Jonesy walked past them and said, “David Benson and his father are here to see you, Ty.”
They rounded the corner. David Benson stood in the middle of the precinct’s waiting area.
Ty watched Hailey’s dad. Things were going to skyrocket from ugly to seriously fucked-up any second now.
Mr. King’s expression turned feral and he lunged in David’s direction. “I oughta kill you, you spoiled fucking bastard,” King roared. “You think you’re going to get away with this because you have money?”
Ty jumped in the middle, trying to head off the blowout, but King’s big fist caught him square in the eye. “Knock it off,” Ty managed as he grabbed King around the waist and hauled him backwards.
“Enough. One more step from either of you and I’ll arrest you both.” Isobel’s voice came from behind Ty. He hadn’t realized she was even there.
Jonesy flew around the corner, too. Just in time to help restrain Mr. King.
“Stop it. This won’t help Hailey,” Ty shouted over King’s accusing voice. “Officer Jones, please escort Mr. King to his vehicle and see that he exits the lot.”
Isobel pushed David and his father into an office on the opposite side of the room while Jonesy hauled Mr. King outside.
Ty stood in the empty room for a minute. His eye throbbed like a son of a bitch, but he didn’t have time to look at it. He needed to tell Jonesy to follow Hailey’s dad all the way home. Then he had to deal with the Bensons.
So he’d been wrong. Today was going to be every bit the cluster-fuck yesterday had been. And worse, he was still supposed to be on vacation. He may not have been the smartest guy on the planet, but he knew one thing for sure. The next time he had vacation time coming, he was spending it somewhere too damn far away to be called into work.
***
Jordan pulled into Ty’s precinct on her way to St. Louis to let him know she wouldn’t be back until late. Only one person could cut corners and produce a copy of Special Agent Ben Steel’s FBI file with little or no red tape.
Bahan.
She also intended to stop by her own precinct. Even though she worked narcotics, she knew most of the homicide guys well enough to fish for a little information. Someone had to have caught a case about a young woman being murdered in the snow. This wasn’t her first trip around the block as far as the dreams were concerned; before all was said and done, the murdered woman was going to connect with her somehow.
She could have called Ty, but instead she decided to pop in and scowl at Cherry-bomb again. Today she was prepared for battle. Her clothes were nicer, her hair was combed, and she wore a little make-up here and there. Not that she’d be posing on the cover of Vogue any time soon, but she knew how to highlight her assets when the situation called for it.
“You are a huge idiot.” She chastised herself as she got out of the car and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. Caleb was sitting at the reception desk when she walked in.
He smiled when he saw her. “Someone looks awfully pretty today.”
“Ty in his office?” she asked.
“Yep. Issy is fixing him up. We had a little excitement this morning.”
The phone on the reception desk rang and Caleb snatched up the receiver.
Fixing him up? Her heartbeat ramped up a notch. Had he been hurt? And what did Isobel Riley have to do with it? If he’d been seriously wounded they’d have called an ambulance.
They’d have called her.
She went to Ty’s office, filled half with urgency and half with dread over what the hell she’d find when she got there. From the hallway, she could see Ty and Isobel together, and the image stopped her like a good, old-fashioned sucker punch.
Ty was in his chair, and the redhead loomed over him, cradling his chin in one hand and holding something against his face with the other. Close. Personal. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the redhead was smiling and murmuring to Ty.
The disastrous image felt like a train wreck she couldn’t look away from. Not because there was anything wrong going on, but because the two of them looked so right. Jordan swallowed, almost gagged on how much sense the intimate little scene made.
Isobel Riley was attractive. Jordan imagined that most men might say beautiful. She was obviously smart enough to make it to detective. And anyone with eyes could see how Isobel looked at Ty.
How long before he looked back and saw what was missing in his life? A normal woman who wouldn’t fear all the things he wanted most.
Satisfied that he wasn’t seriously injured, she turned to leave. Isobel obviously had the situation under control. The ambition to fight for her man was replaced by a big wave of foolishness. And honestly, a little bit of fear that she just might not come out on top if Ty ever bothered to compare pros and cons.
“Jordan.” Ty caught up to her as she rounded the corner into the reception area. “Hey, wait a minute. What are you doing here?”
She stopped, turned back to him, and noticed his eye was almost swollen shut. Moving a hand to his face, she turned his chin to get a better look. “What happened?”
He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Long, stupid story.”
No doubt, one the redhead knew every detail of. She pulled her hand back. “I need to go. I’m heading to St. Louis to check in at my precinct and talk to Bahan. I just wanted to let you know I’d be gone a while.”
He stepped closer, rested his hands on her hips. “Didn’t you forget something?”
“I don’t think so.” She kept her gaze focused on his chest, refusing to look him in the eye. “And if I did, I’m sure the redhead will cover it. She seems to enjoy taking care of you.”
“We’re not going there again, are we?” Aggravation was clear in his tone. “Are you mad because she got some ice for my eye?”
“Nope. Couldn’t care less.” She wriggled out of his hold and turned for the door.
“Jordan, stop.” He caught up to her, stepped in her path, and cupped her cheeks in his hands. He leaned in and kissed her—long and slow and exceedingly intimate for being in the middle of his cop shop. “Thank you for stopping by,” he whispered. “Please be careful on the back roads.”
“So this is your better half these days?”
Both of them turned to the redhead. Normally Jordan would have been embarrassed that someone had witnessed such a heated kiss, but under the circumstances, the devil on her shoulder actually wanted to flip Isobel the bird.
Jordan looked back up at Ty. After a long, uncomfortable pause, she said, “Hi. Yes, I’m Jordan. Ty’s girlfriend.”
She channeled her inner ice bitch and held out her hand to the redhead.
Cherry-bomb barely returned the handshake before letting her gaze dip down to Jordan’s boots and crawl back up again. Hard to miss the not-so-subtle sizing-up.
“I’m Detective Riley with MHP. Nice to meet you.” Then
Isobel looked up at Ty. “The Bensons and their attorney are here. We probably shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.”
“Okay. I’ll be right in.”
Ty hooked a finger under Jordan’s chin and tilted it up. The act always felt like such an intimate gesture. The fact that he did it in front of the other woman chipped away at a bit of the ugly uncertainty in her heart.
“Did you need anything else, baby?”
A breeze flittered through the air as Cherry-bomb whipped around and stalked away. Isobel’s huffy exit was less than subtle.
“She still wants you. You know that, right?”
He shrugged and eyed her sweater and the cleavage inside it like it was a last meal. “And I want you. You know that, right?”
She smiled a little now, too. Because she did know it. And right or wrong, she felt just a little smug because of it.
“Officer McGee, my dad has another appointment. Would it be possible to start soon?”
Jordan looked toward the door of the interview room. A tall, thin guy with curly blond hair and big hazel eyes looked back at her. She pulled away from Ty. A wild shiver skipped down her backbone.
“I’m on my way, David.” Ty said.
Isobel came from down the hall and stopped next to the young guy. “I think we’re ready to start any moment now.” She looked back at Ty. “McGee?”
“I need to go, babe,” Ty said. “I’ll give you a call. Okay?”
Jordan snapped her focus from the young man to Ty.
Isobel crossed the room and hovered next to them.
“Is that your suspect?” Jordan asked.
Ty shot a sideways glance at Isobel. “Depends on who you ask, but I really don’t think so. Just someone we’re talking with right now. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Jordan took hold of Ty’s hand and squeezed. “That’s the vic’s boyfriend, isn’t it?”
Ty nodded. “Yeah.”
“Be very thorough with him,” she said.
“Jordan, was it?” Cherry-bomb’s face tightened when she interrupted. “We’re not at liberty to discuss the facts of a case with a—”
“Actually”—Jordan unleashed a back-the-hell-up look on Cherry-bomb—“it’s Detective Delany with the St. Louis County Police Department.” She had a good six to eight inches on the redhead and wasn’t above using it. “I’m not exactly a civilian. That is what you were going to say, isn’t it?”
“Still, you are not a part of this investigation.”
Jordan stood silent for a moment, incredulous. She hadn’t wanted to bitch-slap someone so badly since the arraignment of the drug dealer who had almost killed her on the last case.
She held the redhead’s gaze with a long glare. “You’re absolutely right, detective. There are some lines that should never be crossed, aren’t there?”
Chapter 8
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Jordan started her car and pounded on the steering wheel. For someone who was supposed to be psychic and intuitive, she certainly hadn’t seen this runaway train coming. She never, ever, ever entertained the idea that the girl in her dream had been connected to a case Ty was working.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It wasn’t supposed to work this way.
“Damn it,” she murmured, letting her head thud back against the headrest. There weren’t any hard and fast rules about her dreams, but involving Ty in her visions any more than he already was didn’t feel right. Using the dreams on her own cases was one thing, but influencing the outcome of another cop’s investigation felt wrong. Really wrong.
What if she made a mistake? Wasn’t she the one who’d spent twenty years hating her own father based on a mistake?
The line had to be drawn somewhere. Ty was a good cop; he’d figure his case out without her help. She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror as she backed out of her parking space. “Just once, couldn’t you be less than a total disaster?”
In St. Louis, Jordan cruised along Market Street until she came to the FBI’s field office. Thank God it was Sunday. Maybe she wouldn’t have to play twenty questions with the geriatric bulldog who guarded Bahan’s office.
When she found his outer office dark and empty, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Bahan glanced up at her when she opened his door and walked in. She waited patiently while he talked to someone on the phone and clacked away at his computer. When it seemed he might be a few minutes longer, she snatched a mint from his candy jar. He always had the soft ones that melted in your mouth like minty icing. He whizzed around in his big leather chair and started to work on a different computer, so she reached into the jar again and then stuffed a big handful of mints into her pocket.
He swung back around, hung up the phone, and shook a finger at her. “You owe me seven hundred and forty-two dollars.”
“For what?”
“For all the damn mints you steal. Agnes rations me, you know. She won’t let me have more than one jar a week.”
Jordan grinned. “Where is super-troll today, anyway? I figured she slept under her desk so she wouldn’t miss the opportunity to jump out and snarl at me.”
“Please. She’s a harmless old woman.”
“Bullshit. She’s like Yoda—little, shriveled, and seemingly harmless until you piss her off. Then she rains down on you like a shitstorm. And let’s face it, she hates me. And I’ve never done a damn thing to her.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She just thinks you’re . . . uppity.”
“What the hell kind of word is uppity? What the fuck does that mean?”
Bahan pulled at his collar, looking uncomfortable and guilty.
“What?” she asked. “Did you say something about me to her? Are you the reason she hates me?”
“She, ah . . . well, she wanted to fix me up with her granddaughter.”
Jordan sucked in a gasp and gagged on the mint. “Yuck. Is there a family resemblance?”
He laughed. “Kind of. Yeah.”
“So what does your love life have to do with me?”
He didn’t answer right away, so Jordan leveled a look at him like she had him in the hot seat.
“I might have given her the impression that I had feelings for you.”
“What? Why the hell would you do that?”
“I didn’t want her to hate me because I refused to date her granddaughter. So I told her I was hung up on someone else. She asked if it was you, and it seemed like a harmless fib.”
Jordan leaned forward with her hands propped on his desk. “I cannot believe you did that. Now she’s going to think we’re in here fooling around every time I come by.”
“No, she won’t. I sort of implied that you shot me down and I’m heartbroken. Now she just feels sorry for me and brings me chocolate cake and homemade stew.”
Disgusted, Jordan shook her head. “No wonder she thinks I’m a bitch. Why don’t you get a new secretary?”
“Are you kidding? Agnes is golden. In under a minute, she can put her hands on any document I’ve worked on in the last ten years. Nobody fucks with me because they’re scared to have to deal with her. And she brings me food.”
Jordan narrowed her eyes and opened his candy jar. She stuffed another big handful of mints in her other pocket. “Say nothing. Men are assholes. All of you.”
He chuckled. “That sounds ominous. Is there trouble in ranch-topia?”
“No,” she said. But even she could hear the defensiveness in her tone. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Ty’s murder investigation has him working with a female detective from Highway Patrol.”
Bahan stared at her. “And you think because he’s living with you, he shouldn’t be allowed to work with other females?”
“Well, smartass, the last time he worked with this particular female, he slept with her.”
“Oh.” Bahan leaned back in his big old chair.
“Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with? ‘Oh.’ ” She shook her head and dropped down int
o a chair in front of his desk. “Fucking men.”
He laughed. “Hey, just because McGee’s in trouble doesn’t mean I’m going down with him.”
“I got news—you already went down with him. The exact moment you confessed I’m your Agnes beard.” She sank deeper into the chair.
He raised a brow.
She hated that amused, you’re-such-a-female look. It made him look like he should be saying, Bond . . . James Bond. “What?” she finally asked.
“You’re really twisted up about this, aren’t you?”
“No. And that’s certainly not why I stopped by. I wanted your help with something else.”
He held up his hand. “No, it’s okay, I’ll play Dr. Phil.” He leaned forward and steepled his hands. “So how does it make you feel knowing Ty and this other woman . . . shared evidence?”
“You’re a dick,” Jordan said, but she laughed as she said it. “How do you think it makes me feel? I want to kick her ass.”
“Does this woman have a name?”
“Cherry-bomb.”
Now Bahan laughed. “Her name is Cherry-bomb?”
“To me it is.”
She felt like an idiot. They were joking around, but the thought of Isobel Riley underneath Ty or on top of Ty or up against a wall with Ty made her heart feel like it could explode right out of her chest.
“All right,” he said, much more seriously now. “I’m guessing you’re overreacting as most females tend to do, but I’ll give you the lowdown from a man’s perspective.”
He leaned his elbows on his desk. “First of all, do you honestly think he has feelings for this woman?”
She shrugged, but then shook her head. “Not really. I don’t think so.”
“How long was he with her? A couple weeks? A couple months?”
Ty would not be happy she was discussing this. Hell, she wasn’t happy she was discussing it. But she did kind of want another guy’s perspective. “He said, and I quote, ‘it lasted about as long as it takes to brush your teeth and wasn’t quite as enjoyable.’”
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