All I've Ever Wanted (4 page)

“You're not even going to tell me your name?”

The man smiled and her knees buckled.

“Why? Are you arresting me?” She clamped her jaws shut and wanted to kick herself.

He crossed his arms. “Not unless you give me a good reason to.”

His tone was serious, but his eyes were mischie
vous. Kennedy struggled to appear impervious to his charms. “I really have to go.”

“Then it's my loss.”

She answered his comment with a nonchalant smile. “I'm afraid so.”

This time instead of storming away, she was convinced that she was floating away from the dashing detective.

 

Max's gaze remained focused in the direction that the beautiful waitress had gone. In the back of his mind, he questioned his attraction and couldn't come up with a logical explanation for it.

“So, Detective Collier, what brings you here?” Aaliyah asked, cradling her hands against her hips.

Max turned and couldn't force himself to smile. “I would imagine the same thing that brought you here—lunch.”

With amazing grace, the reporter shrugged off his sarcasm and got straight to the point. “How is the Underwood investigation going?”

“Slowly.” He paid the cashier for his carryout order.

“Any leads?” Aaliyah persisted.

He wanted to laugh at the woman's audacity. “Do you honestly think I would share any information with you?”

“Surely, we can let bygones be bygones?”

This time he did laugh. “You know, I'm not really known for saintly qualities like forgiveness. You burned me once. You won't get a second chance.”

 

Once inside the break room, Kennedy decided that she'd had enough for the day. She was leaving.

A second later, Tyne, one of her coworkers, flew in behind her. “Girl, what's got into you today?” Her sentence ended with an annoying pop of her bubble gum.

“I'm fine.”

“You sure don't seem fine to me. Hell, you have to be insane to turn that fine brother down.”

Kennedy rolled her eyes heavenward as she snatched her bag from her locker. “Look, I just have a lot on my mind, okay?”

“I'll say.” Tyne crossed her arms and drummed her fiery-red fingernails as she stood blocking the doorway.

Kennedy jerked on her jacket and tried to ignore her nosy friend.

“You know, you'd feel better if you talked about it.”

I wouldn't even tell the pope about this one.

“There's nothing to tell.” She met Tyne's bold stare with one of her own. “I'm just tired.”

Their gazes remained locked for an awkward moment before Tyne relented and tossed up her hands in surrender.

“All right. Suit yourself. I guess we all have our little secrets.” She laughed. “Frankly, I've never liked that uppity reporter anyway.”

“Reporter?”

Tyne's expression turned incredulous. “Girl, where have you been, under a rock or something? Everyone knows Aaliyah Hunter is from Channel Eight.”

Glancing at the door, Kennedy suddenly remembered the reporter's reference to the A.D.A.'s murder. In retrospect, she wondered how she'd forgotten it.

“Hello?” Tyne stepped into her line of vision and frowned. “Maybe you do need to go home and get some rest. You're acting strange.”

Bennie poked his head around the door. “Anytime you two feel like working, just let me know.”

Tyne sighed. “Here I come.”

Kennedy shook her head. “I'm out of here, Bennie.”

He stared at his watch for a moment, then moved farther into the room. At a robust six foot three, Bennie often made Kennedy think of a club bouncer. “You still have another hour left on your shift.” His broad face reddened.

“I know, but I have to go. I'm sorry.” She moved around him.

“What kind of business do you think I'm running here? Who's supposed to cover your station?”

“Look, Bennie. I've never done this before, I just need to get away for a while and think.”

“Well, I'm doing some thinking myself. Like whether your services are needed here anymore.”

Teeth clenched, she called his bluff. “You do what you have to do.” She stepped around him.

He mumbled under his breath, but spoke up as she touched the door handle. “I expect you to come in here tomorrow with a better attitude.”

With her back still turned to him, she smiled. “Deal.”

 

It was dark when Max returned to the crime scene. Again he questioned what person in their right mind would perceive these eerie, desolate woods as a romantic hideaway. But carrying a high-beam flashlight, he hoped to see or find something that they'd overlooked—something that might only be revealed in conditions similar to the time of the murder.

He reviewed his notes and considered several possible scenarios. The case was definitely a puzzle. He didn't mind that, since he loved challenges, but this one was missing a few pieces.

A quick glance at his watch confirmed that it was getting late and his frustration increased. At the rate things were progressing, the case could easily remain unsolved.

Max turned on his heel and had started to make his way back to his car when the beam of his flashlight illuminated an object nearly buried in the fallen leaves.

He walked over and knelt to extract a long silver
chain. The first word that came to mind was
dainty.
Maybe it belonged to some brave teenage girl who had ventured out here with her Romeo.

Max's curiosity heightened as he examined the uniquely designed locket that dangled from the chain. He turned it over to read the inscription:

As he admired the piece, he suddenly wondered if he'd stumbled onto the first break in the A.D.A. murder case.

K
ennedy tore through her bedroom, overturning clothes baskets, crates—anything she could get her hands on. All to no avail. “Where the heck is it?” She grumbled angrily. She stopped to touch her neck, halfway hoping that her locket would reappear.

It didn't.

Discouraged, she plopped down onto the edge of the bed and racked her memory, but she drew a blank. Her frustration rushed out in a long sigh. Nothing had gone right since…

She froze at the thought. “Since the night of the murder.” She propped her forehead against the palms of her hands and tried to concentrate, but details of
that night danced just outside the realm of memory. Then, suddenly, she remembered twirling the locket on the bus while listening to Leroy as he recounted Mrs. Russell's woes.

Panic seared through her as her thoughts returned to that time in the woods. “Dear God, no.” She stood, squeezed her eyes closed, and searched every crevice of her mind to remember whether she'd had the necklace anytime since that dreadful night. Again, nothing.

The doorbell rang and Kennedy nearly jumped out of her skin. Who would be visiting this time of morning?

The bell rang again and its sound was followed by an insistent, but melodious knock. She calmed immediately at the sound of that familiar rap, and even managed to smile.

She wasn't disappointed when she opened the door and saw her best friend. “Hey, Wanda,” she said.

“Hey, girl.” Wanda limped into the apartment without waiting for an invitation, which was the norm.

Kennedy frowned at the heavy cast on her friend's foot as she closed the door. “What happened to you?”

“That damn dog, Levi, is what. I tripped over him while cleaning the house. I don't know why I agreed to let Reece have one.” Wanda eased onto one of the dining-room chairs, ignoring the way it creaked beneath her hefty weight. “I swear, that mutt doesn't
do anything but piss all over my carpet and chew up what little furniture I own.”

Kennedy laughed as she dashed into the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. “Why don't you just take him back to the pound?”

A cigarette magically appeared in Wanda's hands, soon followed by the customary billow of smoke. “I'd love to, but every time I even think about it, he looks up at me with those big, sad, brown eyes and I find myself forgiving him for another smelly stain or rip on the sofa.”

“I don't believe it. You're puppy whipped.”

“What? That's not a real diagnosis.” Wanda's face twisted with disdain as she reached to flick ashes into the only ashtray in the house.

“Sure it is. Levi has you wrapped around his paw and you know it,” Kennedy teased, grateful for the opportunity to laugh and forget her troubles.

“You know, there's an upside to me being in this cast.” A slow smile crept across Wanda's lips, and her eyes got a mischievous glint.

Kennedy smelled a rat and proceeded with caution. “Like what?”

“Like I met this wonderful doctor. You're going to just love him.”

Kennedy quickly held her hand out in front of her friend's face like a wall. “Forget it.”

“Hear me out.”

“No.”

Wanda extinguished her cigarette, but not her prepared speech. “Come on, come on. This man is
perfect
for you. Now, I don't want to alarm you, but he
is
a little older.”

“How much older?” She couldn't help but ask.

“Age is nothing but a number.”

“How large
is
this unimportant number?” Kennedy shook her head when she realized what she was saying. “Forget that I asked. It doesn't matter, my answer is still no.” She stood and returned to the kitchen to finish making the coffee.

“Girl, what are you waiting for?” Wanda called after her. “Prince Charming isn't going to just pop up and ring the front doorbell. And Lord knows that you never go anywhere to meet any eligible bachelors, so I'm giving you a hookup.”

Briefly, Kennedy remembered the sinfully attractive detective she'd met at work. She smiled and then quickly erased the expression. “My Prince Charming is currently in Pre-K.”

Her friend shook her head. “You're going to turn Tommy into a mama's boy.”

Kennedy's mouth fell open in shock. “That's not true.” Yet, her guilt increased with the accusation. She returned to the table and offered her friend a cup.

“Oh, yes, it is, and you know it.” Wanda's expression turned sympathetic. “Look, don't get me wrong.
At times, it's sweet how you dote on him, but how fair is it for you to hang all your hopes and expectations on a four-year-old? Face it, you need a man.”

“Why do all married women think that single women need men to make them happy?”

“Because they do.”

“They do not.”

Wanda lit another cigarette. “Don't forget that I do have some experience with singlehood. I wasn't born married, you know.”

“You could have fooled me.” Anyone who knew Wanda and Walter Overton knew that they often behaved as if they were joined at the hip. It was sickening how they would finish each other's sentences or laugh uncontrollably at each other's stale jokes.

“Whatever, girl.” Wanda reached into her breast pocket and produced a black-and-white business card and waved it in front of Kennedy. “It won't hurt you to go on one measly date.”

For a moment, Kennedy actually reconsidered her position on the matter. She took the business card and studied it. “Dr. Anson Ward.” She twisted her lips into a half frown. “He sounds kind of stiff.”

Wanda's smile widened. “What else would a girl want in a man?”

 

Dossman relaxed as he watched his boss, Lieutenant Kelly Scardino, read and then reread his re
port. She drummed her fingers and the expression in her pale blue eyes reflected her disappointment. He smiled despite himself.

She looked up and pushed back a few graying blond locks before meeting his gaze. “Where's your partner?”

“He'll be right in. He was handling a few calls from the press when you called us in here.”

Scardino flipped the report closed and tossed it onto a nearby stack of paper. “I'm not sure I want us taking any more calls from the media regarding the Underwood murder case. The press is already starting to make this investigation look like a circus.”

Dossman bit back a cynical response and substituted a more politically correct one. “We're doing the best we can with what we have.”

“It's not enough.” She fixed her cool gaze on him. “Look, I'm getting a lot of pressure on this one. Then again, I don't know what the powers that be expect from us. We don't pull rabbits out of hats and we sure as hell don't perform miracles.”

“Amen.”

Their gazes locked and this time she smiled.

A quick rap on the door drew their attention a split second before Max entered. “Sorry about that, boss.”

“It's okay,” she said, pushing her chair back. “Have a seat, Collier.” She stood.

He took a seat next to his partner. “What's up?”

“Well, for starters, I just finished reading
Dossman's colorful report and I wanted to discuss where this investigation is heading.”

“Into the toilet, if you ask me,” Dossman said, crossing his legs at the ankle and staring up at his boss.

Scardino dismissed his sarcasm with a wave and directed her attention to Max. “What about you?”

“I think it's gang related, which, in itself, will make this a difficult case. Gang members don't usually roll over on each other. But, for the life of me, I can't imagine what kind of relationship existed between Underwood and a group like The Skulls.”

“You think it's The Skulls?”

“They are the dominant group in that area,” Max replied.

Scardino thought for a moment. “Have you shared any of this information with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation?”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe there isn't a relationship between them.”

“Come on, Lieutenant,” Dossman argued. “There had to be something.”

Scardino met Dossman's level gaze. “Maybe they were hired guns.”

Maxwell observed the scathing looks being exchanged between his partner and Scardino and wondered at the source of their hostility. A lover's quarrel, perhaps?

The thought stuck him as odd. He smiled and dis
missed the notion. Surely Scardino and Dossman weren't foolish enough to indulge in a forbidden and unethical affair. He shifted his gaze between them. Or would they?

“Okay.” Max spoke a little louder than he'd intended, but his booming voice succeeded in slicing through the tension in the room. “I can see your point, Lieutenant. Someone hired The Skulls to do their dirty work. Sounds reasonable.”

His brow shifted as he thought the scenario through. “It's going to be hard to find out who ordered the hit when we're not certain which members of the gang, if any, are responsible.”

“Maybe we just need to follow our instincts on this one.” Scardino crossed her arms. “Lord knows the facts aren't leading us anywhere.”

“Whoa. This is a large gang. There has to be hundreds of those punks running around the city. Not to mention the ones living in surrounding states,” Dossman reminded them.

“Then start at the top,” she suggested. “Who's their head honcho here in Atlanta?”

Both men's eyes darkened as they responded. “Keenan Lawrence.”

Scardino nodded in approval. “Find him.”

Dossman gave a mock salute before jumping up from his chair. “We'll get right on it,” he said, and left the office.

Max started to follow his partner to the door, but stopped in the doorway, feeling a need to apologize for Dossman's strange behavior.

Before he spoke, Scardino said, “Don't worry about it. I'm used to Mike's antics.” It was as if she'd read his mind.

The familiar manner in which she'd used Dossman's nickname heightened Max's curiosity about the pair, but he said nothing. He just smiled apologetically and shook his head.

When he returned to his desk, he retrieved the small plastic Ziploc bag containing the locket he'd found.

“I thought you were going to admit that into evidence?” Dossman said, plopping into the chair behind his own desk.

“It wasn't exactly discovered in the crime-scene investigation.”

“But I thought you had a hunch that it's connected?”

“I did…I do.” He threw his hands up. “I don't know what I believe, actually. I think I'm still searching too hard on this one.” He tossed the bag back down onto his desk.

Dossman lifted his brows as he studied his partner. Then, leaning his weight forward, he reached for the bag. “Pretty,” he said, extracting the necklace. “It could belong to one of the promiscuous teenagers we've heard hang out in those woods.”

“I thought of that, too.”

Dossman opened the locket. “Well, I'll be damned.”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘What'? Don't you know who this is?”

Max frowned. “Should I?”

“Come here.” Dossman stood and gestured for his partner to follow.

Curious, Max did so.

When they reached the awards case, Dossman pointed to a plaque toward the back.

Max leaned closer, and then blinked in surprise as he noticed a duplicate of the picture encased in the locket he'd found. “‘Lieutenant Preston K. St. James,'” he read off the card beneath the photo. He smiled as he pulled his large frame erect. “I think it's time to pay a little visit to the lieutenant's daughter.”