by K. A. Fox
He picked up his notebook and looked down at it briefly, then directly back at me. “So you decided that posing as a waitress named Janey Lynde would let you infiltrate the club and be there when the attack came?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time. Gave me a legitimate reason to be there when the murderer showed up,” I answered.
“Why not pose as a dancer? All his previous victims had been dancers.”
“I could pull off the waitress act much better than dancer.”
“But you would have been on stage, bait for the guy you were trying to track down. You being a dancer would’ve made more sense than waiting on the fringes for something to happen.”
I felt a wave of cold as his words hit me. If you looked at things that way, I had let another woman be victimized. I’d left her as bait for a killer while I hovered on the outside, fairly protected by anonymity. From that perspective, I was responsible for Marie being the victim, for her being hurt. I was speechless for a moment as guilt overwhelmed me.
But then reason interjected itself.
I leaned forward, unafraid to let my anger show now. “Becoming a dancer was no guarantee. You never know, maybe the owner doesn’t like short women that look like me. Waitress was a job I was much more likely to get. And being on the fringes made it easier for me to watch out for anything that might happen. In fact, I spotted the guy before he got Marie out of the club and would have gotten to him if some damn idiot hadn’t pulled my tail.”
Detective Bishop was trying very hard not to laugh at my impassioned statements. I was absolutely sure at this point he’d seen the security footage of me falling backward, into the lap of the customer who’d tried to take advantage of the moment before I regained my feet. His time was up.
“You know, I think you can get everything else you need to know from the statement I gave back in Angel Falls.”
He leaned back. “I went over that statement, again and again, believe me. Couldn’t help myself. Especially after you left town.”
“Then why are you here?” I ground these words out, desperation starting to make its way into my voice.
“At first, it made sense. Then I saw your apartment. It was extremely clean, almost like no one had ever lived in it.”
I shrugged at that observation. “I know how to clean really well. My parents taught me those types of things. What’s that got to do with anything?”
He nodded, his sharp eyes never leaving me. “Nothing necessarily.” He paused and shrugged, setting his notebook on the table. “But then I followed the money.”
I froze, swallowed against the nausea that threatened to overcome me. “What money?” I asked, even as I fought the sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Your paycheck. Or should I say, the paycheck for Janey Lynde. Direct deposited into an account in her name, that then automatically dumped the money into a separate account. Into an account for a shelter that helps victims of domestic violence.” He looked at his notes, even though I was sure he didn’t need to refer to them at all. “Hope House. Founded and supported by the Murphy Foundation. The shelter is run by a very nice woman named Alice Cheney, who was very proud that Delaney Murphy and her mother came to the shelter once and presented a service award to her. She especially appreciated it when they both agreed to take a picture with her to commemorate the occasion. She keeps it on her desk, loves to share it with everyone who comes to visit.”
My throat was dry, but I managed to get the words out. “How? How did you . . .?”
Detective Bishop shrugged, his eyes never leaving mine. “Sometimes it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” He waited, but when I remained silent, he continued. “Imagine how interested I was to find that the woman she pointed to in the picture and consistently referred to as Delaney Murphy looked very much like a young lady calling herself Janey Lynde from Des Plaines, Illinois.”
I shut my eyes. Here it was. The one factor I didn’t consider when planning everything. It seemed like such a simple thing. I would hunt down the murderer and the shelter would get a little extra money. An easy win-win. All of it ruined by a money trail and a single picture someone had taken years ago. Right before everything had changed. I’d asked her not to post it online. I’d never said anything about not displaying it in her office. My father would be so disappointed. There was nothing to do now but admit it.
I looked squarely at the detective. “So, you figured it out. Congratulations. Now, if you don’t have any other questions for me, I think it’s time for you to go.” I stood up to walk to the door, hoping that would encourage him to follow me.
He stayed seated, even leaning back against the cushions like he was making himself comfortable. “I do have a few more questions for you, Ms. Murphy? Would you mind?” he asked, pointing to the seat I’d just vacated.
I refused. “I’m happy to stand. Two more questions, then it’s time for you to go.”
He nodded, back to business. “I’m curious about the knife. It seemed too nice to have just been laying in that alley, waiting for you to need it. But looking at what you were wearing on the night the incident occurred, I couldn’t see anyplace you might have hidden it that wouldn’t have been noticeable.”
I couldn’t miss the tension that layered the question. Self-defense or armed with intent? He didn’t need to know about the custom sheath built into the boots I’d been wearing that night. Designed to hold a blessed blade. I’d hated leaving my knife behind, but it would have raised too many questions if it had disappeared when I did. I played it off. “Sometimes,” I shrugged, “you just get lucky.” Maybe it was that I was nervous, but I realized too late that I’d coated that last word with my magic.
Detective Bishop watched me, thoughtfully, but I couldn’t ignore the way his eyes dilated as they followed every move I made. “So, you went there, intending to stop him, completely unarmed?”
“I knew I’d take some hits, but I believed I could stop him somehow. That’s what I did.”
He seemed stunned by this information, but I ignored that, waving my hand toward the door. “Now, I’ve answered your questions as agreed. It’s time for you to leave.”
“But, what about . . . .” he started to say.
I stopped him with a quick gesture. “No. Your time is up.” I walked to the door and opened it for him, making it clear that I was done answering his questions.
He stood up slowly, watching me wait at the door. When it was clear I wasn’t going to change my mind, he nodded a quick goodbye in Cal’s direction. As he walked toward me, I couldn’t help but notice his broad shoulders and rolling gait, reminding me of a young John Wayne stalking his way through countless movies. The detective smiled genuinely at me in a way that made his eyes look even brighter in the light of the open door. He stopped and took my hand, shaking it. The fact that I didn’t react in time to avoid the skin to skin contact was proof of how much he’d thrown me by coming to my home. The current I’d felt before intensified between us when his fingers touched mine. It felt like gravity was tugging at us both. I resisted the urge to close the distance.
“I know you won’t believe this, Miss Murphy, but it’s been a pleasure seeing you again.” Then he leaned in toward me, so near I could smell the soap he’d used earlier in the day. “And for the record, I happen to like short girls who look like you,” he whispered into my ear. I bit my lip as goosebumps broke out on my skin and he grinned at my response. With one last, true smile, he walked out my door. He left without looking back and I hoped to all the Hells I would never see him again.
Chapter Thirteen
I felt a little defeated after he left. I sat in silence for a few minutes, my head in my hands, trying to come to terms with how this man had tracked me down. When I’d finished with what my mother would have no doubt called my very own pity party, I sighed and raised my head, realizing too late that I’d been watched through it all.
Callum’s attempt at a reassuring smile
looked more like a grimace. “You know, Angus will not be happy about all this.”
I nodded. I didn’t need to say anything. I’d left that loose end behind. It was a mistake. I hadn’t ever expected anyone would wonder about Jane Lynde enough to even think about the money. They shouldn’t have. But Detective Bishop had. He’d followed the trail, which led him right to my door.
“What’s done is done,” Cal continued. “We’ll make the best of things as they are. You answered his questions and we’ll put it all behind us for now. Let’s do something you really want to do. So—you pick. What do you want to do?”
I tried to smile, but I knew it had to look almost feral. “You don’t want to know what I want to do right now.” I shook my head, trying to warn him away as I stood up from the couch, rolling my head to loosen the muscles that had tightened up in my neck and shoulders.
“Come on,” he persisted. “We’ll do whatever you choose.”
I gave him a harsh laugh. “Fine. It’s your funeral. Follow me.”
I stalked out of the living room and showed him the hidden stairs to my basement. He followed me down and began to chuckle when I turned on the light. My entire basement had been converted into a space any fighter would love to train in. There were a couple heavy bags hanging in one corner and weights were off on another side. Everything I could need to work off my anger was right here. I pulled on the clean workout gear I kept in the bathroom. Stepping back out into the space, I found Callum had thrown off his shirt and grabbed a pair of the shorts Newt kept down here. They were slightly too big for him and hung loosely around his hips, emphasizing things that would only be a distraction.
He tried to lighten my mood with a joke. “Here I thought you were leading me down into your dungeon so you could take advantage of me. But you want to work out?”
I reached over and tied the drawstring extra tight, knotting it for him. No gear malfunctions allowed. “What I want to do right now is hit something. Hard. I’m going to start jumping rope to warm up. Do what you want, but that guy is mine.” I pointed to the middle where a figure stood. “That’s Bob. He takes all the abuse I can dish out.”
He nodded, understanding my point. I turned some music on, loud rock pulsing through the air and got to work. After we were both warmed up and shining with a thin sheen of sweat, Callum joined me and we threw heavy medicine balls at each other. Twisting to toss and catching them, faster and faster, a competition to see who would give first. He did. He threw it down onto the padded floor, then grabbed the pads from where I’d stored them last. He motioned to the middle of the room and said, “Okay. Let’s see what you can do.”
We were both dripping by then, hot and flushed despite the natural underground chill in the air. I grabbed my gloves, pulling them on and tightening them with my teeth. No wraps today. It was time to pound away at the fear that I’d screwed everything up. I needed to knock down the guilt trying to sink its teeth into me.
We lined up across from each other and Callum dipped his head at me one time. “Begin,” he said. I came at him immediately, jabbing with my left a few times before throwing in a right cross at his head. He caught it with the pads and then swiped at my head. I ducked down, popping back up when he was off balance and letting my upward momentum add to the power of the uppercut I aimed at his chin. He jumped back at the last moment and we circled each other for a few seconds as he caught his breath.
“Not bad,” he said. “Looks like Newton has been teaching you a few things.”
“Not bad?” I asked. “That’s all you can say?”
He cocked his head and said mischievously, “Time for Round Two.”
This time, I didn’t hold back. I threw every punch I’d learned at him, even a couple elbows when he’d spun around to get behind me. I added in some heavy knees and a roundhouse kick from time to time to keep him off balance. After ten rounds of this, we were both spent. And laughing. Gut deep laughter rolled out of us until I collapsed onto the floor and felt relaxation sweep through me. After we’d calmed down, Callum helped me up.
“What’s over there?” he asked as I used a towel to wipe some of the sweat off my face.
I followed his gesture and grinned. “That’s where I’ve been practicing my knife skills. I can throw them from a decent distance, but Newt’s also made me do a lot of up-close practice. There’s also a nice gun range he set up for me in the tunnel back there, so I can keep working on my marksmanship.”
“Wow. I would tell you I’m surprised, but knowing Newton, I’m really not.”
“Oh, you know Uncle Newt? For how long?” I tried to keep my voice casual, so he wouldn’t guess how much I wanted to know the answer to that question.
“Long enough to know not to mess with your father or his best friend.” Then he forced a sudden subject change. “You know, when you said you wanted to hit something, I wasn’t sure what to think. But this works for me.”
I looked at him over my shoulder as I led the way upstairs. “Trust me, hitting things always makes you feel better. Guaranteed.”
Moose was waiting for us in the kitchen, curled up in his bed, one eye open. Callum leaned down to him and whispered, “I’m going for a run and I bet you want to join me.” Moose was up immediately, stretching as he did so, his snout elongating and legs growing inch after inch until his ears were at my elbow. He leaned his new weight into my side, forcing me to struggle to maintain my balance. He looked up at me and I rubbed my hands through the silky fur along the top of his spine.
“Do you want to come with us?” Callum asked, making his way to the back door with Moose right behind him.
I hate to run. “You guys go ahead without me. I’ll clean up and by the time you’re back, we’ll all be ready for some food.”
Moose dashed out the door Callum held open for him and I watched them lope off together. From where I stood on the back steps, I watched as they raced each other. Moose was mine, as Cal had pointed out, and could pass through the wards just as I could. Cal’s hand was just barely visible, resting on my Hound’s head as they passed the small stones that marked the boundary of my wards. Moose was a black streak next to Cal and they were out of sight all too quickly. Sighing almost happily, I jogged up to my bathroom, stripped off my soaked clothes, and turned the shower on as cold as I could stand. I stepped in, letting the water rush over me, spraying off the sweat and grime that wanted to cling to me. There would be sore muscles tomorrow, but it would feel good. Alive.
When I felt clean again, I turned the water off, wrapping a soft towel around me. The little luxuries of my life comforted me, and I let go of the remaining frustration I’d held on to. My day hadn’t started as planned, but it could only get better. With a clear mind, I could figure out a way to calmly explain the situation to Angus and reassure him that there really was nothing to worry about. I could do this. I had to do this. If I didn’t, I’d end up exactly where I didn’t want to be. Back in my very own bedroom in Hell. Knowing Angus and his love of torture, there would be a lot of pink this time. And bows. Probably a bed with a canopy.
The phone rang, distracting me from the plans I was trying to put together.
When I answered it, my heart stopped for a second.
“Ms. Murphy, I need to meet with you one more time. There’s something we need to talk about.”
“I don’t think so, Detective Bishop. We’ve talked enough already.”
“You don’t understand. It’s very important or I wouldn’t bother you at all.”
“I don’t want you here at my house.”
“That’s fine—you can come to me. I’ll meet you at the coffee shop down the street from my hotel.” He gave me the address and time to meet him, then hung up before I could tell him no again.
I had less than an hour to get dressed and on the road. I knew the drive into Omaha would take at least thirty minutes, so that meant I had to get moving. I scribbled a quick note for Callum and Moose, telling them I’d be bac
k and not to worry. They’d be able to get into the house without me there. I threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater, grabbed my coat, and ran out of the door. Fall temperatures in Nebraska could change quickly and I couldn’t handle the cold well. Another change I’d learned to accommodate. I ran to the large garage and my favorite car. Sliding into the seat, I relaxed back, my eyes closing as I leaned against the head rest. I could hear Angus again, chuckling when he saw me in this car. “Two Hellcats for the price of one,” he’d said. “Just don’t kill yourself driving too fast on these back roads.”
I drove calmly down the gravel road away from my house, but once I hit pavement, I let myself enjoy the feel of the road flying underneath me. I sang along with the radio as loud as I could, since there was no one to hear me.
Arriving at the coffee shop the detective had wanted us to meet at, I maneuvered my way into the only parking space open. That left me a short walk over the old bricks of the original street. I loved the historic part of this city, but those damn things could be ankle killers.
Detective Bishop was seated at a table in the back, away from the windows. He must have sensed that I didn’t want to be recognized. I tried to appreciate his consideration but couldn’t shake off the foreboding I felt. I ordered some hot tea at the counter and the detective joined me, ordering himself a fancy coffee and something to snack on. I took my drink to the table he’d claimed and sat down, my back solidly against the wall, limiting the ways I might be surprised.
When he joined me at the table, he tried to make conversation. He worked his way through the small talk checklist, finally apologizing for our meeting earlier in the day. He needed to get the real story and the best way to do that was to catch me off guard. Surely I could understand that.
I held up my hands for him to stop. “Listen. I’m almost done with my tea and I don’t like small talk. So, I’m going to the counter there to refresh my drink and when I come back, you’re going to tell me what was so damned important that you made me come meet you here. If I don’t have the answer by the time I’m done drinking my tea, I’m leaving, and you will not contact me again.” I didn’t let him say anything, just got up and did exactly what I said I would. By the time I was ready to sit back down, he’d chewed his way through the fruit bar he’d purchased and was nervously jiggling his leg.