Running on Empty

by Michelle Celmer

  A burst of hope and anxiety bloomed inside of her. “Does he know who attacked me? Does he know who I am?”

  “He didn’t say exactly, but it sounded urgent.” He snapped up his badge from the counter. “This could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”

  “What have you got for me?” Mitch asked, sliding into his chair. Jane perched on the corner of his desk, while Greene, the eager young officer who had questioned her last night, dropped a thick folder in front of Mitch.

  “I pulled the file on last night’s victim,” he said. “Something just didn’t sit right with me about the attack.”

  “Yeah,” Mitch agreed. “I had that feeling, too.”

  “Take a look at her file. Her height, her hair.”

  Mitch opened the file, read for several minutes, then said, “I’ll be damned.”

  “What is it?” Jane asked.

  Mitch rotated the file to give her a better look. “Same hair color, similar build.”

  Jane studied the photo, her breath catching when she realized what he was implying. “You think she looks like me?”

  “Not in the face. But she said he came up behind her. It’s possible that in the dark, the suspect could have mistaken her for you.”

  “If he mistook her for me…” Honest to goodness hope swelled to the surface in a rush so powerful it choked her up. “Does that mean…?”

  “He was asking you where his wife is. Which would mean this guy isn’t your husband.”

  “Which also means I probably don’t have children hidden somewhere, scared and missing me. I didn’t forget my own kids.” That was the biggest relief of all. But it was short-lived.

  “If that’s true, it could also mean that you probably know where his wife and kids are. Or at least he thinks you do.”

  Officer Greene cleared his throat. “Um, if you don’t need me for anything else, Detective, I’d like to head home and spend some time with my kids.”

  Mitch stood. “Yeah, sorry. Thanks for calling me in.”

  “No problem.” With a shy smile, Greene tipped his head in Jane’s direction, “Ma’am.”

  “He’s nice,” Jane said when he was gone. “And so young. He doesn’t look old enough to have kids.”

  “He’s a good cop,” Mitch said. “A good guy.”

  She looked over at him, brow furrowed. “Who is Kim?”

  Her shift of subject stunned him for a second. “How do you know about Kim?”

  “Arnold Palmer mentioned her last night.”

  Arnold Palmer? Now he had to wonder if that bump on her head had done some damage after all. “Arnold Palmer? The golf pro?”

  “You know, your friend in the golf clothes. The other detective. He said that I was Kim all over again. What did he mean by that?”

  Mitch sat back in his seat, suppressing a chuckle. Darren did dress preppy. Very clean-cut. “Kim was a woman I was seeing a few years back.”

  “Seeing?”

  “Living with.”

  “Is she the one you almost married?”

  “I thought about it.”

  “And exactly how does that compare with you and me?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “It’s, uh, kind of ironic, actually.”

  She leaned forward. “Why do I get the feeling you mean ironic in a bad way?”

  “I was working narcotics at the time. Kim’s boyfriend was dealing. When she found out, she turned him in to the police. He rolled on his suppliers and she agreed to testify, so we placed her in protective custody as a precaution.”

  “Let me guess. You were assigned to her case.”

  He nodded. “You know what they say about hindsight. I was still pretty upset over losing my dad and she used that as a way in. Looking back, I can see that she manipulated me. Darren could see it, too, and he tried to warn me.”

  “But you didn’t listen.”

  “Kim and I had been together about three months when she was busted for possession. All the signs were there. I just didn’t want to see it.”

  “Is she in jail?”

  “No,” he said, voice flat, eyes devoid of emotion. “She’s dead.”

  Jane shuddered involuntarily and shivers crawled up her back. “Drug overdose?”

  “She was murdered.”

  “Was it because of the drugs?”

  “I’ll never know for sure. We never found out who did it.”

  She wanted to touch him, to offer some gesture of comfort, but knew how it would look. “I’m so sorry, Mitch. That must have been awful.”

  “And it got worse. It wasn’t until after she died that I found out she was married.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. Ouch. Makes a person wonder why I kissed you this morning.”

  “You didn’t kiss me,” she said. “I kissed you.”

  “But I let you.”

  They had one of those moments where their eyes locked and held and she had the unmistakable feeling that he could see deep inside of her. She couldn’t help wondering what he saw there. Then her temperature started to rise, and her mind began to wander back to their kiss.

  Looking away, Mitch cleared his throat and unfolded himself from the chair. “We should go.”

  Jane resisted the urge to fan away the flames that had settled in her cheeks. “Yeah. I could use some fresh air.”

  Outside, the sun shone brightly overhead and heat poured in waves off the surface of the blacktop. She caught the sweet fragrance of the lavender that grew in thick clusters around the building, their branches heavy with hearty purple blooms.

  They walked through the near deserted parking lot to the sedan. He closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side, snagging a flyer from the windshield as he got in. He unfolded the paper, his brow dipping into a deep furrow as he read. His expression grim, he looked up, glancing around the parking lot.

  “What’s wrong?” Jane asked.

  Mitch held the paper up. There were two words typed across the page: I’m watching.

  “It’s from him,” she said, shivering despite the heat.

  “He’s trying to scare you.” He tucked the paper into his jacket pocket.

  “It’s working. Shouldn’t you check it for prints?”

  “He didn’t leave prints. He’s smarter than that.” He started the engine and turned to her. “Do you trust me?”

  “I do,” she said with a certainty she hadn’t felt since this whole mess began. She’d be a fool not to. “I trust you.”

  “Good. Then you know that I’m not going to let him get you. He may be smart, but I’m smarter.”

  His cell phone began to ring and he answered with his usual, “Thompson.” He listened for several minutes then expelled a stream of obscenities she’d never imagined coming out of his mouth.

  “I’m on my way.” He stabbed the Off button and turned to Jane. “Buckle up.”

  Throwing the car into gear, he peeled out of the parking lot.

  His sudden shift in demeanor was as thrilling as it was frightening. She’d seen him in cop mode before, but never like this.

  “We have to make a stop at the county lockup,” he said, taking a corner at excessive speed.

  Jane realized, by his clipped tone, he wasn’t just in cop mode. He was furious. “What’s wrong?”

  “I made an arrest two days ago. A serial rapist named Robby Barrett.”

  “The one you interrogated all night?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Did he confess?”

  “No. They found him hanging in his cell this morning.”

  Chapter 10

  “How in the hell did this happen?”

  “He tore his clothes apart, made a rope and hung himself.” The D.A. sat in a massive leather chair, behind an equally massive desk—a desk meant to convey his powerful position no doubt, yet he looked anything but. He looked tired, bored even.

  Mitch on the other hand was livid. Jane watched from the doorway as he leaned forward, resting both hands
on the desktop, getting in the man’s face.

  “So what you’re telling me is that he tore his clothing apart, managed to tie it all together in a handy rope, hung himself from the bars of his cell and no one noticed?”

  “You got your arrest, Detective. You had your moment in the spotlight. Let it go.”

  “I didn’t get my confession.”

  “He was guilty. I prefer to think that he did us a favor. He saved the taxpayers the expense of a trial and incarceration.”

  “Will you be including that in your press release?”

  The D.A. sat forward, his tone threatening. “Let it go, Detective.”

  Mitch didn’t back down. If anything, he crept farther into the other man’s personal space. “There is the matter of a man being innocent until proven guilty. He deserved a fair trial.”

  “Which he would have gotten if he hadn’t taken his own life.”

  Mitch started to turn away, his jaw rigid.

  “One more thing, Detective. The family has already contacted a lawyer. Not only do they want vindication of his death, they want to prove his innocence.” The D.A. stood. He was a formidable presence, towering a good three inches over Mitch. “It’s likely you’ll be subpoenaed to testify. I’m counting on your cooperation in the matter.”

  No threat was voiced, but the implication was clear. Many men would have been intimidated. Mitch didn’t bat an eyelash. And for some silly reason it filled her with pride. He was truly one of the good guys.

  “Always a pleasure,” Mitch said, extending one arm for a brusque handshake. The level of hostility in the gesture was so intense she could practically feel the surge of testosterone. Then Mitch turned and headed for the door, hooking a hand under her elbow and leading her into the hall, muttering under his breath, “Smug son of a bitch.”

  She practically had to run to keep up with him. “He didn’t just ask you to lie under oath, did he?”

  “Of course not,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “He’s a D.A. He would never direct a witness to lie.”

  “But he would imply it?” When he didn’t answer, she said, “You two had quite a rapport going in there.”

  “Let’s just say that we have a history.” He stopped in front of the elevator and punched the Down button. The halls were deserted; still he lowered his voice. “When the whole Kim thing went down, he was a prosecutor. He was convinced I was involved and dead set on nailing me. It was a failure he’s obviously not taken in stride.”

  “He thought you were involved in drugs?”

  “No. In her murder.”

  “You’re a cop. Why would he think that?”

  “When someone is bludgeoned to death in your apartment, they tend to look at you as a suspect.” He slammed the palm of his hand against the button again. “And no, I didn’t do it.”

  “I would never believe you could do something so awful,” she said softly. “Why would they think…”

  “We had a pretty major blowout over her arrest. I bailed her out, then gave her an hour to pack her things and get out of my apartment. I left, drove around for a while to cool down, and when I came back an hour later, she was dead.”

  “And this D.A. still thinks you did it?”

  “He doesn’t care about guilt or innocence. He’s a damned politician. He only cares about winning.”

  “You were great in there. I know it probably sounds stupid, but I was proud of you for not backing down.”

  “Another minute and he would have been eating my fist.” He stabbed the button again, and when the doors didn’t open, he latched back onto her arm and tugged her down the hall and through the door leading to the stairs.

  Mitch let go of her arm and started down, halting when he realized she wasn’t following him. He looked back at her questioningly. She leaned against the door, looking at him in the oddest way.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It was a turn-on.”

  For a second he was sure he’d misunderstood. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Watching you in there. Knowing you were fighting for what you believe in. It was…intense.”

  “And it turned you on?”

  She flattened her palms against the door behind her. “Oh, yeah. Big-time.”

  Okay, maybe he hadn’t heard her wrong. He could distinctly see color climb up her neck and flame out onto her cheeks. He could see the heavy rise and fall of her breasts with every breath.

  He took a step toward her, knowing he shouldn’t get any closer. Though it was obvious, he asked anyway, “You’re turned on right now?”

  She nodded.

  “Let me guess, you’re one of those danger types? Being in peril gets you hot?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I am.”

  He should just shut his mouth, turn around and run as far and fast as he could in the opposite direction. At least until they’d both had a chance to cool down. But damn it, he couldn’t. Instead of walking away from her, he stepped closer. “You know, that honesty thing you have going is bound to get you in trouble one of these days.”

  “Is that a threat, Detective?”

  It happened so fast, he couldn’t say for sure who moved first. One minute they were three feet apart, the next she was in his arms. He backed her against the door, pinning her with the weight of his body, fueled by his anger and frustration. Lips crushed and molded, tongues collided. She was like an oasis, so sweet and hot, he thrust to taste her deeper. She responded with equal enthusiasm, bearing her soul to him right there in the stairwell.

  Like magic, the hostility that had consumed him only seconds earlier began to drain away. A satisfying, mellow kind of heat that started in his chest spiraled outward in a slow rush, like warm honey in his veins. And though he was sure there were several dozen reasons why making out in the county courthouse was probably a lousy idea, he couldn’t conjure up a single one.

  She tugged his shirt from the waist of his jeans, smoothed her hands across his bare stomach and up his chest, and he came up with several dozen reasons why it was a pretty good idea—the soft gasp she let out when he molded his hand over the swell of her breast, the fingernails raking a path down his back. Very good reasons.

  It also became clear that if either of them didn’t come to their senses soon, there was a strong possibility they would wind up making love right there against the door. And while personally he didn’t consider their actions reprehensible—with the possible exception of public indecency—he was somewhat convinced his superiors would frown upon his behavior. At the very least he could count on a formal reprimand. And call it an over-active sense of morals, but he couldn’t brush aside the idea that, given the nature of their relationship, he was somehow taking advantage of Jane.

  Ultimately, that sense of justice she’d found so arousing was what continued to keep them apart.

  He pulled away slowly, letting that final kiss linger as long as possible. “We can’t.”

  She rested her cheek against his chest. “I know.”

  He circled his arms around her, unwilling to let go just yet, surprised to find that simply holding her filled some void he hadn’t even realized was there. Until he’d found her sprawled out in that store, until he’d gotten to know her, to appreciate her quirky personality, he’d been…lonely. Christ, for the first time in years he felt like a whole person again. And the woman who made him feel that way could be damn near anyone.

  “We can’t let this happen again.” He smoothed back the hair that had come loose from her ponytail. Try as he might, he just couldn’t seem to make himself stop touching her. “Not until we know who you are.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes full of hope. “And after we know who I am?”

  “Realistically…”

  “It would still be a bad idea,” she finished for him, her voice filled with a finality that cut deep.

  “I was going to say, you have a life somewhere that I might not fit into.”

  “It’s odd. We’ve only kno
wn each other two days but I feel like we’ve been friends my whole life.”

  “In a way, these past two days have been your whole life.” Which didn’t explain why he was feeling exactly the same way. “It wouldn’t be fair to either of us if we were to get involved now.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed, backing away. She was trying to be strong, but he could see the hurt in her eyes. Though it was difficult now, in the long run they would both be better off. She would thank him.

  That didn’t make letting go any easier.

  “Where to now?” Jane asked when they were in Mitch’s car.

  “I thought we could drive around for a while, see if anything triggers a memory.”

  “What about your sister?”

  He started the engine and steered out of the nearly empty lot. “What about her?”

  “Weren’t you supposed to get those groceries for her?”

  “I’m working.”

  She gave him a “yeah right” look.

  “If I go over there, I’m going to get sucked into doing something else. She keeps lists, for cryin’ out loud.”

  “Lists?”

  “Grocery lists, chore lists. She’s ruthless.”

  “But you promised. And she is the one who gave up her job to stay with your mother.”

  She was right and he knew it. He cursed and punched the gas, sending them shooting out into traffic.

  “Fine, we’ll get the damned groceries,” he mumbled. “But that’s it. We drop them off, then we leave.”

  With a grin on her face, Jane watched out the open kitchen window of his mother’s house while Mitch trudged the length of the yard behind a lawnmower. Proving yet again that, though he tried to act tough, he was a big softy. It had taken minimal pouting and a few veiled threats for Lisa to get him out there.

  It wasn’t like she and Mitch had anything better to do. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. They could be out driving around, looking for something familiar. Yesterday it was all she wanted to do. Now, the thought left her feeling vulnerable. And…alone. Mitch had barely spoken to her when they picked up Lisa’s groceries. She figured it was his way of putting distance between them, of trying to forget what happened in that stairwell.