Stone Cold Heart

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Stone Cold Heart Page 19

by Laura Griffin


  She felt the vibration in his chest as he laughed softly.

  “What?” She sat up on her elbow, and he was smiling at her, looking infuriatingly sexy with his perfect chest and his mussed hair. “What are you laughing at?”

  “You. Who cares who knows you’re here?”

  “I do.”

  “Come here.” He pulled her down and rolled her onto her side so her back was facing him. Then he slid her hips against him.

  “What—”

  “Shh.” His warm hands glided over her shoulders, and he started massaging them.

  At first, she tensed. But as his strong thumbs kneaded her muscles, she felt the tension draining away. He gathered her hair and shifted it over her shoulder, making room for his skilled fingers as he massaged away her stress. She felt herself caving into him—into his warmth, his humor, his affection—and the touch was so intimate it brought tears to her eyes. He had no idea—none—how long it had been since a man had touched her like this, with caring and tenderness and a desire to make her problems go away. She forced the tears back and ignored the lump in her throat and tried to enjoy the moment for what it was. A moment. A fleeting snippet of time when she could block the world out and just be.

  After a few blissful minutes, he kissed the back of her neck. “Better?”

  “Um-hmm.” She nestled back against him, trying not to think about anything at all besides the heat of his body and the weight of his arm on her waist. She wouldn’t think about tomorrow. Not tonight. Tomorrow and all its problems would come soon enough.

  CHAPTER 19

  Sara picked up her shirt off the floor and pulled it on as she crept to the window. Peering out, she was relieved to see Nolan’s pickup parked in front instead of in the driveway, blocking her in. She unlocked the door and opened it. Holding her breath, she slowly pushed the screen door open and slipped outside, easing shut the front door and then the rusty screen.

  Sara started down the steps, halting when a skinny gray dog rushed up to her. She reached down so it could sniff her fingers with its damp nose.

  “Hi,” she whispered. “Where’d you come from?”

  She glanced across the driveway at the glow coming from the window of the neighbors’ kitchen. They were up early, too.

  Sara hurried across the lawn, waiting until she was right beside the Explorer to pop the locks with a too-loud chirp. She tossed her purse onto the passenger seat, and the dog watched from the grass, tail wagging, as she slid behind the wheel and backed out.

  Sara let out a sigh as she passed the little white church on the corner. It looked misty and ethereal in the predawn light. She combed a hand through her messy hair. Then she turned up the radio and tried to find news, traffic, weather—anything to distract her from what she was doing.

  It didn’t work, and she thought about Nolan all the way across town, particularly when she passed the familiar gas station where the shopkeeper she’d met was flipping the CLOSED sign to OPEN.

  She focused on the road and made her way through two more empty stoplights to the motel. Now that the holiday had passed, it was no longer crowded, and the space right in front of Sara’s room was open. She parked and gathered her things, making a mental to-do list as she dug the key card from her purse.

  First, she had to check her email and voice mail. Then shower and dress. Then she had to grab some coffee before heading to White Falls Park, where she was meeting Raul. She slid from her SUV, and the smell of bacon hit her as she crossed the sidewalk.

  And she had to get something to eat. Food was a must if she was going to be any use at all today, which was already looking doubtful.

  She let herself into her room and found it just as musty-smelling as when she’d checked in yesterday. Eyeing her computer bag on the bed, she decided to shower first. The second she logged in, it would be far too easy to get distracted and delayed.

  She turned on the shower and stripped off her clothes. Avoiding her reflection in the mirror, she stepped into the tub and ducked her head under the spray. The hot water sluiced over her skin, and finally, finally, she let her thoughts flow.

  She thought of Nolan’s body, his hands, his skin. She thought of his mouth in the darkness when he’d kissed her awake and kept her up half the night.

  Since she’d first met him on that rocky path, she’d been wondering what it would be like to sleep with him. And now she knew. It was amazing. Incredible. Mind-blowing.

  So . . . box checked. Curiosity satisfied.

  No, even after all those hours in the dark, her curiosity wasn’t satisfied, and she had a whole new flurry of unanswered questions swirling through her head.

  She hated this. She felt tense and edgy, and her stomach was in knots as she remembered sneaking out on him.

  What was so bad about it? People did it all the time. She never had, but it certainly happened. She didn’t need to feel guilty.

  A sharp rap on the door made her freeze. She turned off the water and listened. It couldn’t be him.

  Could it?

  She darted a look at her cell phone sitting by the sink, but she had no new messages. She grabbed a towel and dried off. The rapping came again, louder this time. It was insistent and confident. And definitely male-sounding. Wrapping the tiny towel around her, she crossed the room and looked through the peephole.

  A police officer stood there. She’d seen him before, but damned if she could remember a name.

  She tugged up her towel. “Who is it?”

  “Officer Biggs, Springville Police Department.”

  “May I help you?”

  “Could you open the door, ma’am?”

  Sara engaged the security latch and cracked the door a few inches, keeping her body shielded as she looked through the gap.

  “Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Is this your vehicle parked here? The black Explorer?”

  “Yes.”

  His gaze dropped to her bare shoulders, and his cheeks colored. He cleared his throat. “Ma’am, are you Sara Lockhart, from the Delphi Center Crime Lab?”

  “Yes. What’s the problem, Officer?”

  “I thought I recognized the vehicle. I was doing a routine patrol when I noticed your window busted out.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The front window on the passenger side. It’s busted out, and there’s glass all over the pavement there.”

  “Hold on.”

  Sara closed the door. She rushed to the bed and dug some clothes from her duffel bag. She twisted her wet hair into a knot and slid her feet into flip-flops before grabbing her phone off the sink.

  Biggs was on the sidewalk now, his back to the door as she opened it. She strode over to her SUV, where a pile of glass glinted like ice chips in the morning sun.

  “What the—? When did this happen?”

  He looked her over. “That’s what I need to get from you. Did you hear any disturbances outside your room overnight?”

  “I wasn’t here overnight. I just pulled in”—she checked her phone—“about twenty minutes ago. It must have happened while I was in the shower.”

  “I see.” He cast a glance over his shoulder at the black-and-white police unit that was double-parked behind several cars. “Wait here. Don’t touch anything.”

  He walked off, and Sara stepped to the window, leaning close to get a look at the interior of her Explorer. The glove compartment was open. No visible damage to the steering column. She walked around to the back, and the cargo door and bumper looked just as hideous as yesterday. Sara cupped her hand over the window and peered inside. Her evidence kit and tools were there.

  “Step away from the vehicle, please.” Biggs was back with a clipboard. “Our CSI is on his way. He’ll want to check for fingerprints.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’m a CSI, and I’m happy to handle it.”

  “That’s all right, we’ll handle it,” Biggs said. “They’re already on the way.”

  Sara bit back a curse. They?

  Biggs starte
d filling out paperwork, no doubt creating a report that was going to derail her morning. She went back into her room. By the time she had a cup of coffee brewed, another police unit was turning into the motel parking lot.

  Sara watched, guzzling coffee to wake herself up as the officers huddled together. The new guy was a uniform, but judging by his hefty evidence box, she guessed he was also a licensed CSI. Cops in small departments often wore multiple hats.

  Sara set her coffee down and walked up to him. “May I borrow some gloves, please?”

  “Ma’am?” He shot a questioning look at Biggs.

  “I need to open the back.”

  After a nod from Biggs, the officer crouched down to open his kit and handed Sara a pair of blue gloves. She tugged them on and carefully opened the cargo door. She stared at the space for several long moments and opened each of the other doors to do a thorough inspection. Then she peeled off the gloves and stepped onto the sidewalk to give Biggs her statement, complete with every detail she had noticed about the parking lot when she’d arrived this morning.

  As they were finishing up, a white pickup pulled into the lot. Nolan looped around the row of cars and slid into an empty space at the end.

  “Ma’am?”

  She looked at Biggs. “Yes?”

  “I said, anything else besides those two items?”

  “No.”

  Nolan wore a tie today, along with slacks and dress shoes, and Sara’s nerves fluttered as he walked toward her. His hair was damp from the shower, and he’d shaved in the brief time since she’d last seen him.

  He stopped in front of her. “You all right?”

  She nodded.

  He turned to Biggs. “What happened?”

  “At approximately six thirty-five A.M., I was driving through the parking lot behind the diner there when I decided to swing through the motel. I noticed broken glass in the parking space beside the Explorer, and then I noticed the broken window.” He nodded at Sara. “I thought I recognized the vehicle, so after notifying the manager, I knocked on Ms. Lockhart’s door to let her know.”

  “It’s Dr. Lockhart,” Nolan said.

  Biggs darted a look at her. “Sorry. I, uh, let Dr. Lockhart know about the break-in, and she took a look through the vehicle and advised me that her Nikon camera was missing, as well as her phone charger that had been plugged into the dash there.”

  Nolan looked at Sara. “Anything else?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Nolan walked past her and joined the CSI examining her shattered window. They crouched beside the glass shards and talked in low voices as Sara looked on, a ball of dread forming in her stomach.

  Biggs flipped through his papers and asked her to sign a few places. With a crisp nod, he headed for his car, and Sara turned her attention to Nolan, who was still talking to the CSI.

  She’d left his house this morning without even saying good-bye, and yet he seemed totally normal. No sulking. No attitude. He gave no indication whatsoever that there was anything personal or contentious between them.

  And maybe there wasn’t.

  He walked back over, and she searched his eyes for any sign of resentment.

  “You sure there’s nothing else?” he asked matter-of-factly. “Just the camera and the charger?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He nodded at her SUV. “Looks like someone used a crowbar or a tire iron to break the glass, so I wouldn’t bet on us getting any prints. And the motel doesn’t have security cams.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that.”

  “What was on that Nikon?” he asked.

  “Not much. It had a new memory card, so just those few blurry photos from last night.”

  “The Tahoe?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about your room?” he asked.

  “What about it?”

  “Any chance someone was in there?”

  Sara’s blood ran cold. “How? I mean, my door was locked.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Well . . . yeah. I mean, it locks automatically.”

  No way someone had been in her room. They would have had to tamper with the lock, and she’d seen no sign of that. She walked over to the door to check, just to make sure. With Nolan at her side, she examined the doorframe and locking mechanism but saw no evidence of any damage.

  “I don’t see anything,” she said.

  Nolan checked his watch. “What time are you meeting Raul?”

  “Seven thirty. I’m already running late.”

  “Biggs is going with you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I asked him to.”

  “That’s ridiculous! Why would you ask him to?”

  Anger flared in his eyes—his first hint of emotion this morning. “Because someone ran you off the road last night, Sara. Because someone just broke into your car. And because until we know more about what happened, you shouldn’t be walking around a crime scene unescorted.”

  “I’ll be with Raul.”

  “Raul isn’t armed. Biggs is.”

  She took a deep breath, trying to rein in her temper. “Nolan, come on. You guys are short-staffed. I couldn’t possibly ask one of your officers to waste his time babysitting me—”

  “You’re not asking, and it’s not your call. You’re working in my jurisdiction, and you need security.” Another look at his watch. “I’d do it myself, but I have a deposition at eight.”

  Sara gritted her teeth and stared up at him. He was determined—she could see it in his eyes.

  “Biggs has supplies in his trunk,” he told her. “He’ll help you get a trash bag taped over your window until you can get it fixed, along with everything else.”

  Biggs walked over and stopped short, as if sensing an argument. He looked from Nolan to Sara.

  “Here’s a copy of the report,” he said, handing it to her.

  She folded it in half. “Thank you, Officer.” She turned to Nolan with a fake smile. “And thank you, too, Detective. I appreciate your time this morning.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  • • •

  Talia followed the highway’s sharp curve, tapping the brakes when she spotted Nolan’s pickup. She rolled past it, then pulled onto the shoulder and parked. Grabbing her backpack off the passenger seat, she got out.

  Nolan stood beside his truck, rummaging through the chrome toolbox mounted behind the cab. He wore slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and she knew he’d been at the courthouse earlier.

  He glanced up as she approached. “You bring the camera?”

  “Yup.”

  Nolan grabbed a heavy-duty flashlight and led her down the dusty shoulder to a pair of orange traffic cones. He kept a crapload of emergency equipment in his personal vehicle and encouraged other officers to do the same. You never knew when you might come upon someone with car trouble, and his motto was Be prepared.

  Talia looked around at the empty lanes. The afternoon sun had dipped behind the hills, leaving this stretch of highway in shadows.

  “This where Sara went off the road?” Talia asked.

  “About thirty yards back.”

  Talia crouched beside him. She unzipped her backpack and pulled out the camera she’d checked out of the equipment room. It was worth more than a week’s pay, and she was careful as she handed it over.

  “Thanks.” Nolan checked the settings. Then he set up the ruler for scale and handed her the flashlight. “Aim the light right over the tread mark.”

  Talia positioned the beam so all the ridges in the dirt stood out. The effect would have been better at night, but the extra light still helped. Nolan snapped a few shots.

  “He pulled off the road after he hit her?” Talia asked.

  “Sara thinks he did.”

  “How do we know this is his tire track?”

  “We don’t.” Nolan crouched closer to the ground and took a few more shots. “But I combed this whole stretch, both sides, and this is the o
nly track out here.”

  “What about the emergency responders last night?”

  “They parked north.”

  Talia looked around. This wasn’t a heavily traveled highway, but still this didn’t seem conclusive enough. Almost twenty hours had passed since the incident, and anyone could have pulled over. All this forensic work seemed like a waste of time, but he’d insisted she meet him out here with the camera.

  Nolan returned to his truck for a container of quick-dry dental stone. He added a bottle of water to the jug and gave it a shake, then carefully poured the goop over the tread mark.

  “Where’d you learn that?” she asked. “I must have missed that day at the academy.”

  He didn’t look up. “I’ve had some seminars over the years.”

  “I should do that.”

  Nolan didn’t comment. Talia watched him, noticing the tight set of his jaw as he poured the plaster. Sweat beaded at his temples, and he had to be hating the heat in those stuffy clothes.

  “How is she?”

  He knew she was asking about Sara, and he didn’t look up. He finished pouring and set the jug aside. “Don’t know.”

  Talia tried to read his expression. She’d been sure Nolan and Sara had a thing going, especially with her car at his house last night. Maybe she was wrong. Even if he and Sara didn’t have a thing going, he had to be worried about someone rear-ending her last night and then the break-in this morning. It hadn’t taken long for the details of both incidents to spread through the department grapevine.

  “You’re pretty fixated on finding this Tahoe,” Talia said.

  “I am.”

  “And it’s not personal?”

  He looked up at her.

  “I’m just pointing out this is a lot of effort to track down a vehicle if we don’t even know for sure it’s our guy,” she said.

  “It’s our guy.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Talia watched him work. He seemed tense, and she had a strong suspicion it had more to do with Sara than the case.

  “So . . . Sara went back to San Marcos, I take it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does she know about Michelle?”

  His look darkened. “No. Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

 

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