Death Stretch (14 page)

“Flash has a motive. I've heard she was really pissed Morgan dumped her for Ginger.”

He sat back in his chair and leaned his head on his hand. “Brandi Wells doesn't strike me as a woman who'd dirty her hands.”

“If she hired someone, you could still get her for conspiracy to murder, right?”

His lips quirked. “You really don't like Ms. Wells, do you?”

Why did people keep asking me that question? “Do you?”

He tried unsuccessfully to hold back his smile. “I keep my distance from murder suspects. Just a little trick I learned over the years.”

“So that means I'm not a suspect?” I clapped my hand over my mouth. My high school teachers told me to engage my brain first then speak. Something I’ve never learned.

Dirk's eyes looked sad. “Sorry, my boss still has a soft spot for your guilt. You didn't happen to go to school with him, or maybe date him, did you? It's almost like he has a vendetta for you.”

“Funny man.”

Dirk did his waiting for an answer thing, so I obliged. “What's his name?” I waited until he opened his mouth and then spoke over him. “No, I don't know your boss. Give me a break. Am I that big of a disaster?”

I hoped his response, unfavorable to the disaster appellation, would go unvoiced. Allen walked in followed by Matt. “We've got a lead on those tracks.” Allen noticed me and halted. “Sorry, I didn’t see Katie with you.”

Dirk escorted me to the door. “I think we're finished, Ms. Sheridan. Thanks for your insights.” His next sentence was under his breath. “Stay out of this and don't forget to lock your damn door.”

He turned and addressed the two officers. “So what did you get?”

Dirk didn't close the door fast enough. Just before it clicked shut I heard, “Mid-sized bike.”

Crap. Just when I thought Rob couldn't be involved. Parked in Ginger's garage stood a mid-sized Ducati motorcycle. Even though Rob had morphed into super asshole, I hoped he didn't kill Morgan. If only for Ginger's sake.

Chapter Twelve

Dirk waited at my door. Tantalizing aromas of hot cheese and sausage wafted from the cardboard box he held.

“What are you doing here?”

He pushed the pizza box toward me like a sacrificial offering. “I came to apologize.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Too little, too late, Buster. Besides, it's kind of late.”

“Just got off work.”

His exhausted demeanor primed me to nurture him. I got over the urge. My Mama taught me to restrict my mothering to the boys I birthed.

“I brought ice cream.” He held up a plastic grocery bag jammed with pint-sized containers. I could see the distinctive Ben & Jerry’s covers. If he brought Chunky Monkey, he was in.

“There's Chunky Monkey, Cinnamon Buns and Cherry Garcia. And another one I can't remember.”

I grabbed the bag. “I guess you can come in.” Moving down the hall, I finalized my decision. “You can have the Cherry Garcia.”

The dead bolt clicked home and I felt a bout of warm and fuzzy come over me. I pulled out my two best plates—no chips—and I took the one with a slight crack. A longneck came out of the fridge for Dirk, but I stuck to water. No telling when he'd go into cop mode, and I still hadn't caught up on my sleep.

“So do you want to chit chat or eat?”

Dirk's eyes glazed over. “Eat.” He packed away three slices of pizza before coming up for air and a pull at the beer.

“Feeling better?”

He leaned forward. “I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I knew you'd leave this case alone. It's screwy. The pieces aren't coming together, and I've got a gut feel the murderer is biding his time.”

The pizza I’d eaten threatened to make a repeat appearance. “What do you mean?”

He put his hand over mine. “I mean the murderer isn't done. He's after you or Ginger or both of you. I can't figure why, but that’s how it feels to me.”

His thumb drew lazy circles over my wrist. He lifted his gaze to mine. “I'd hate that, Katie. More than I can say.”

“Does your boss still have me pegged as the killer?”

“Not now.”

“What changed his mind?”

Dirk shrugged.

A breath I didn't know I held slipped out between my lips. “Good.” I had to ask, though I didn't expect an answer. “Do you think the blackmailer will send another note?” A more important question surfaced. “Could the blackmailer and murderer be the same person?”

He hesitated. “You're not a suspect, but I can't discuss anything else with you. I stopped by to apologize, but also because I want you and Ginger to be on your guard. Always. Don't cross the street without looking both ways four times. Keep your doors locked. Be aware of the vehicles around you on the street. All that and more. This isn't over.”

I shuddered. Dirk grasped my hand. He leaned forward while pulling me toward him and we met in a savory tasting of pizza-flavored lips. Sounds kinda yucky, but boy, oh boy.

“We're keeping someone outside your house, but the department can't afford that much longer.”

What Dirk didn't say was that his boss decided I'm not a suspect, so the guard they had on me to prevent flight wasn't needed.

He wrapped his fingers in my hair. “Enough about the case.”

His actions in bringing pizza weren't totally altruistic. I decided to confront him before he distracted me. “Dirk, why are you here?”

“I told you. I'm apologizing for being rude today.”

“Don't think so.” We leaned back and stared at each other across the table.

He blew out a breath. “Okay, out with it.”

Taking a big breath, I jumped in with both feet. “You've made references to women not getting hurt while you're on the job. What happened? Why does this subject eat at you?”

He chugged some beer and I figured he bought time while deciding what to tell me. It's what I'd do in his place.

Dirk cleared his throat. “I worked in Charlotte before moving here. My familiarity with big city crime made me attractive to the chief.” He tapped his fingers against his lips. “That same experience was my reason for moving here.”

Raw pain flashed across his face in a quick spasm. Warm gestures are not my thing, but I moved to put my hand over his. He grasped it like a safety line.

“You look a little like her, my last partner in Charlotte.” Our gazes met. “Amy Porter. Not long out of the Academy, and paired with me when my former partner retired.”

“We had what we thought was a routine call. Domestic disturbance, but everyone knows those can get ugly.” He interlaced his fingers with mine.

“Took a little while, but we got the husband and wife separated, relieved their weapons and talked until they cooled down.” He contemplated our intertwined fingers then sipped at his beer. I committed to giving him all the time he needed, but he continued almost at once.

“Amy was perfect. Her defusing technique was awesome to watch, especially impressive in a rookie.”

His hand trembled. I squeezed his fingers and he gave me a faint smile. Dirk sipped beer then pushed the half-empty bottle to the side.

“It all fell apart. The husband came charging back into the kitchen, grabbed Amy by the hair and pulled a knife from the counter, all before I could make a move.”

My throat closed and my eyes were sandy. I felt out of control, like watching a car accident.

Dirk swallowed. “I thought I'd confined him, but the damn lock didn't work.”

His grip tightened. My physical discomfort couldn't match his emotional hurt.

He rubbed his crooked nose with his free hand. “Amy didn't make it. Our backup unit pulled me off the guy before I killed him, but it was a near thing. I took a leave, and then I left.”

We sat quietly, or at least I did. No telling what roiled through Dirk. I hoped I helped by being with him. I couldn't ever understand his experience, but when he told me to lock my damn door, I would. A little part of me questioned whether he was attracted to me because I reminded him of Amy. I didn't want to examine that idea.

He took a quick sip of his beer and set it aside. “I didn't mean to tell you all that.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice, but that seemed to suffice.

“Your turn. You're gorgeous. You had a polite divorce. Why do you store your fancy wine glasses?”

My eye roll and snort didn't seem to count as an answer he'd accept. Too bad, because I wasn't ready to say more. Trust people? Not hardly.

“Okay, fine if you don't want to tell me.”

His hurt tone put me over the edge. “I'm an orphan.” I kept my head down. Crap. I was telling a story I didn’t discuss with many people. My curiosity got the best of me and I peeked at his expression.

His steady gaze held not a hint of pity and that helped me continue. “I bounced between relatives until Aunt Myrtle accepted guardianship.” I gulped. “Took me awhile to figure out she wanted the insurance money my folks left.”

Dirk's quiet presence and his total concentration on me made me realize I could get through the telling. “She moved into our house here in town and took over everything.” I pushed my familiar anger down. “Myrtle could have been the prototype for Jabba the Hut. She sat her fat butt in my mother's favorite chair like a malignant spider. If I got too close, she'd smack me upside the head or pinch me.”

I felt like a babbler, like a jackhammer punched my heart and all the anger and pain surged out. I caught his gaze and level regard. Good thing he didn't show sympathy. I'd have crawled in a hole for the next twenty years.

My throat closed and I cleared it. “She was clever, my aunt. Told me if I reported her hitting me no one would believe a kid over an adult. She knew how to hit and pinch so the marks didn't show. I learned to keep my distance, but that only infuriated her.” I tried for humor. “Did you know I have eyes in the back of my head?”

His lips quirked, but he didn't smile.

“I ran away, but the cops brought me back.” More than once, which is why I never warmed to the men in blue. Not to mention they’d been the ones to take me to Protective Services the night my parents died.

“How old were you when you ran the first time?”

Smart man. Not only did he figure I ran, he knew it had to be more than once. “Fifteen.” I paused to swallow a lump. “Ginger was my friend before my parents died, and she knew what was going on. She's always known everything about me. She got her mom on my side, but you know how it was. Years ago, kids didn't have the protection they do now. And Myrtle knew how to suck up to people in power.”

Dirk's growl surprised me. “Is your aunt still alive?”

“No, she spent all the insurance money, died and went to hell, I hope.” My energy faded and I sagged against the back of my chair. I felt lighter, even though I didn’t admit to all the hurt Myrtle had inflicted. That'd be too much.

He ran the back of his hand across my cheek. “We're carrying around a lot of baggage, aren't we?”

Boy Howdie. He didn’t whistle Dixie.

He reached for his ringing cell phone. A quick number check and he walked away, flipping open his phone. I couldn't hear words, but knew from the tone the call had to be business.

“Look, I'm sorry, but I gotta go.” He pulled me close, grasped the back of my neck and kissed me like he really was sorry about leaving. As if the message wasn't clear, he nibbled at my bottom lip before pulling away at snail speed.

“Save me some dessert, will ya? If it's not too late, I'd like to come back after I finish up at the office.” His tongue in my mouth told me didn't lie.

He lifted his mouth to change the angle of his kiss and I took the opportunity to answer his question. “Like I said, the Cherry Garcia is all yours. If you're good, you can have the Cinnamon Buns too.”

“Is that all you're willing to give?”

Dirk's talented digits moved south. Under his fingers, my ass didn't feel too big at all. I wasn't ready to answer his question, so I let my hands do a little roaming of their own.

We were both breathing hard and broke apart to inhale.

“So you're strictly a chocolate loving woman?”

“In some things, yes.”

With that out of the way, we got back to swapping saliva.

He brushed my hair back, leaving his palms cradling my face. “I shouldn't be here, but I can't leave.”

“It's not a good idea to kiss a witness in an open case, is it? Or am I a person of interest?”

“Some things are worth breaking the rules.”

I ignored my hormones, and his non-answer. I did the smart thing and stepped out of his embrace. Damn it. “Go answer your call. We've got time.”

Dirk's disappointed look inflamed my ego. “Yeah, you're right.” He walked to the door, me following every delicious move of his tush. He struck a pose and with a bad Schwarzenegger imitation said, “I’ll be back.” He winked and sauntered out the door then stuck his head back inside. “And lock the damn door so I can hear it happen.”

Be still my rampaging heart.

****

“You sound out of breath. Did you run for the phone expecting a call from Dirk, or did you drag out your kickboxing DVD again?”

Ginger's tone sounded almost normal; a welcome change from her silent cookie-eating meltdown. I turned off the muted TV and slid the exercise video out of the DVD player. “Damn, you interrupted us.”

“Really? Sorry, I'll call back.”