Dirty Deeds (8 page)

"Maybe some food and cough medicine?" Jamie suggested.

At first, the kid didn't move. His narrowed gaze seemed to assess Jamie's face. He didn't look at the money Jamie held out. Slowly, a hand came up and took the offered cash. "Thanks." The hand and the cash disappeared into the folds of what Jamie could now recognize as a grimy plaid jacket.

Jamie nodded and walked away as the echo of the man's cough faded. He hoped the money would give him a little comfort. He was already responsible for the loss of one life; he didn't want another one on his conscience.

With his head down, he walked west with no particular destination in mind until once more he stood on the overpass. He gazed down at the traffic on the bridge. The morning commute was gearing up. Hands stuffed into his pockets, he once more stared at the cars zipping north and south on Maple Street. Everything around him continued in a business-as-usual fashion. He wished his own life could be the same. Wishes didn't count for much.

The only upside was he'd made it through the night, but now he had to come up with a plan. He had to figure out how to stay alive.

* * * *

When Louie left the house, it was still dark, and barely light by the time she pulled up to the office. She wasn't surprised to find another car in the lot. By the looks of him, Paul hadn't gotten much, if any, sleep. His red hair was damp and it curled around the collar of his shirt. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he walked closer. Damn but he looked fine, and he sent a flush of desire washing through her.

"Did you hear from your brother?" She didn't see the point of niceties or of giving him any idea that her fingers itched to run through his curly damp hair. Instead, she lifted her chin and got right to the point.

He stopped a couple feet away and shook his head. "No, but I didn't expect to. Like I told you yesterday, I'm really the last person Jamie'd come to."

"Come on." She unlocked the rear entrance to the offices and held the door open. She caught a whiff of cologne as he walked by. Not bad. "I'll make us some coffee."

He made a face. "Thanks, but I don't drink coffee. It about killed me in that restaurant last night."

She stopped and stared. "How you can live in this part of the country and not drink coffee? That's just wrong."

He shrugged. "Never acquired the taste. Now beer is another story altogether, even your wimpy American beer." He smiled and raised his eyebrows.

She shook her head as she led him into her section of the office. A smile pulled up the corners of her mouth. She bypassed Harry's door, went right to her office and flipped on the overhead lights. Harry, a night owl, wouldn't show his face for hours. Of course, it seemed as though most of the calls for his services came during either the late night or wee hours of the morning, so it was probably a good thing.

Louie, on the other hand, was a morning girl. She liked nothing better than the early hours of the day when the sun kissed the hills with golden light. She adored the quiet and the solitude, the hope that came with the dawn of each day. For a person who often saw the worst side of people, she was perpetually hopeful.

And, speaking of solitude, she'd been counting on a couple hours of it when she rolled in. A few calls to friends who were still with the Spokane Police Department might provide the edge she needed. She even had a friend or two with the feds and hoped to tap them as well. She might've walked away from a promising career in law enforcement, but she was bright enough not to have burned any bridges. Not that she went out under any kind of cloud or had even wanted to burn bridges. Her reason for leaving the job was one-hundred-percent personal.

Pretty much everyone had understood her decision, and for the most part supported her. Her hands would've been tied if she'd stayed on the force. Independence provided her all the freedom she required these days. She still earned a living with the time she needed to investigate. Oh, she knew no one had really given up on her brother's case, despite its status as a cold case, and that was all fine and good. If they found the bastard who left Christopher for dead before she did, great. If not, she'd be the one to take the son-of-a-bitch out. She'd take great satisfaction in doing it, too.

In meantime, she worked on jobs like the search-and-return mission of young Mr. McDonald. She wasn't above hauling him back by the ear if necessary. Usually it wasn't a tall order. After last night, she wasn't so sure about this one. Normal hunts didn't include dead bodies. At least not here in Spokane.

After she and Paul had left the house last night, she'd called 9-1-1 with the location of the murder. At the time, that was about all she could do. Today was a different story. Later she'd call her brother's former partner and see what info she could pry out of him. She really wanted to know what, if anything, the techs found during their sweep of the house. Not now, but after Paul left. Some conversations didn't need to be overheard.

Reaching into the small refrigerator next to the counter, she pulled out a bottle of water and tossed it to him. "Kind of boring but it's the best I can offer besides coffee."

He caught it and nodded. "Thanks."

"Did you sleep at all?" All things considered, he looked and smelled pretty good. Except around his eyes. Most people probably wouldn't even notice. She did.

He sighed and tipped his head back. "No."

A note in his voice caught her attention. When she first approached him yesterday he'd sounded irritated. A big brother who was sick and tired of little brother's annoying antics. This was different. Now she heard fear.

"Look." She came around from behind her desk to crouch in front of him, her hand on the arm of his chair. It was better to keep her hands on the furniture and not on the man. "I'll find your brother. It's what I do and I'm very good at it. You go home and rest. Be there in case he calls you."

He turned the bottle of water in his hands, his gaze downcast. "He won't call."

"You can't be certain of that. He's in trouble. He's in a lot of trouble and people do odd things when they're backed into a corner. I've seen it more than once."

His hands stopped and he brought his gaze up to meet hers. The bright green of his eyes sent a little thrill through her. "No, you don't understand. He won't call me. Not now. Not ever."

Maybe he was right. The McDonald brothers may have had a gulf between them too wide to cross. Even so, at the moment Paul needed some rest if he was going to be any help at all. Fatigue was not a friend when it came time to think and act sharp, especially for someone not in the business.

"Then go home, get some rest and after that, call his friends. Talk to your parents again. Talk to anyone you think he might go to." So far, so good…she'd managed to keep her hands off of him.

He sighed. "I feel like I should be able to do more."

She lost the battle and reached up to lay her hand against his cheek. His skin was cool and clean-shaven. Her body tingled in places it hadn't for a very long time. She wondered what his lips would taste like. With sheer force of will, she kept her voice calm and even. "I'll find him, I promise."

His green eyes, tired as they were, held hers with a steady gaze. "He's my brother."

"I understand." And she did. Her voice was tender as she told him, "Go home, Paul. Get some sleep and then come back. We'll find him together."

He continued to study her face. His gaze fell to her lips and for a flash of a second she wondered if he also had the crazy urge to kiss her. A second later, his eyes met hers again and the moment was lost. He pushed out of the chair and walked to the back door. "I'll be back later."

She watched him through the window as he walked to his car and drove away.
Finally.
Alone at last. Time to turn away from wild thoughts of what it would be like to kiss a man she barely knew and work on finding James McDonald. She swiveled to face her computer, powered it up, and began to work. Over the next four hours, she only moved away from the computer to fill up her coffee mug. Unlike Paul, she thrived on good, strong, black coffee. And concentrating on something besides his hot body and kissable lips didn't hurt either.

"Hey good-lookin', find my boy yet?"

Harry stood in the doorway to her office, his big bulk filling it to capacity. Today he wore an indigo shirt with his standard blue jeans and boots. The dark circles under his eyes were just about the same color as the shirt. More and more over the last year, she'd noticed those circles darkening his face. He always seemed to look tired but when she'd ask, he'd blow her off saying he was sleeping just fine and feeling great. She didn't believe him.

He wasn't fine and she worried a little more every day. If anything happened to Harry, she'd essentially be alone. Both her parents were gone and with Chris locked in a silent world, she'd have no one without Harry. The thought made her shiver.

Theirs was a special relationship. She could talk to him about things she couldn't share with others. Her friends were willing to listen, but they had no way of relating. Most of them didn't know Chris very well; some had never even met him. Not one had ever faced life with a sibling who lay in a rehab center locked away from the world, courtesy of a gunshot wound to the head.

With Harry it was different. Chris and Harry had been in the Rangers together. They'd passed the grueling training together and that had linked them for life. When they'd left the elite corps and headed home, Harry had taken to the bonding business like a fish to water, while Chris found his niche with the Drug Enforcement Agency. Chris seemed to be born to a life as a fed. At the time, Louie's own career as a Spokane Police officer had been going great guns. She'd done her time on patrol and moved forward to work as a K9 officer. The training was incredible and her dog an absolute joy. Better than she'd ever imagined. Five years ago, everything looked great for all three of them.

One night, one moment, changed it all. A bullet in Chris's head had ended his career and hers. The day the SPD gave her brother's attempted murder a cold case status was the same day she turned in her badge and gave up her dog. If they wouldn't continue to actively track down the sonofabitch who tried to kill Chris, she would. Harry'd been there to offer the perfect solution. Unlike her failed romantic relationships, he was the one guy she could always count on.

Now she was worried. Harry looked haggard and his weight concerned her more than a little. She wasn't ready, by a long shot, to be left alone in this world, so he better damn well get with the program. There'd be no heart attack on her watch. Louie was ready to tell him as much when he turned and walked away, his cell phone pressed to his ear. Well, so much for a motherly lecture. Just like Harry to wander off before even a hello came out of her mouth.

Her gaze shifted to the clock on the far wall. It was well past eleven. Where had the morning gone? She didn't have time to ponder that one either because the doorway just vacated by Harry was just as quickly filled with another man, equally tall but with far less girth. Paul McDonald stepped inside. He looked like a new man in a dark gray shirt tucked into a nice-looking pair of black jeans. A very nice pair of jeans. He turned to close the door, giving her a fine view of his backside. Off topic, she chastised herself. The last thing she needed was to get sidetracked by long legs and a great ass.

He made himself comfortable in the chair across from her desk. "What have you found?" he asked, leaning forward, his elbows resting on long legs.

Louie settled back in her chair and crossed her arms. "And hello to you too, Mr. McDonald."

"Paul." His reminder was given with a raised eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. "Paul."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, what've you found?"

"I know I told you to get some rest but if I'd known this is what sleep did to you, I'd have suggested you stay here."

He shrugged. "I do feel better and probably look better too, eh?"

Better didn't even begin to describe how he looked to her, but she'd be damned if she'd tell him. "If you're fishing for a compliment, you're fishing in the wrong pond."

He gave her a small smile that sent a spark rushing up her back. No wonder he had such a following. Damn, he was a looker. Maybe it was the red hair, a little long with a hint of curl. She wanted to touch it, to run her fingers through it, let it wind around her hand. Oh yeah, it was definitely the hair. Or the hot body. Or the deep voice. Or…hell, it was just about everything.

Again he shrugged. "No biggie. I'm really here to find my brother. I can find him by myself, I'm pretty sure of that. I just think you can help me track him down faster. I'm all for having a professional on the team."

"A professional? Is that a compliment?"

"Of course. You know, Ms. Russell, I wasn't born yesterday. I know a cop when I see one. Or in your case, an ex-cop, I presume."

"You figured that out all by yourself?" She didn't try to hide the skepticism.

He steepled his fingers beneath his chin and grinned once more. "Sort of. I had a hunch, and a friend who happens to be on the SPD confirmed it for me."

"Anybody I know?"

"Jason James."

"Ah yes, I do indeed know Jas. Tall, blond and usually pretty quiet." She would give him an ear full next time she saw old Jason. For a quiet guy, he certainly could tell tales when he felt the urge. Or maybe he was just bucking for box seats to a hockey game or two.

"Maybe around you. The guy talks trash non-stop on the ice. Rec league," he explained before she could ask. "A regular tough guy."

"All right, so you know who I am and I know who you are. Now that we're both on the same playing field, I'll get you up to speed. I made some calls of my own and talked to
my
friends on the force."

Her cell phone rang. She flipped the phone open and put it to her ear, recognizing the baritone of Fred Hawks right away. Fred was the lead detective on the murder of Kendall Stewart. As she listened, a frown pulled down the corners of her moth. Louie expected things could get weird or convoluted; this was a case with that kind of feel to it. Never in a million years did she expect what Fred told her. She was still reeling as she closed the tiny phone and set it slowly back down on her desk. Both of her hands shook as she gazed across at Paul.