Held by You (11 page)

He handed her a thick blue towel and a toothbrush that was still in its package. “Just bought the toothbrush. Use whatever I have that you need.” He kissed her gently before closing the bathroom door and leaving her alone. She was glad for the privacy. She’d had none while she was in jail and it was beyond words how grateful she was to be out. She owed John more than she could ever repay. Now she had to prove herself innocent. She didn’t know how to do that and could only pray that John could.

A shower had never felt so good. As she soaped herself beneath the warm spray, the filth of the last forty-eight hours slid off her body. Even after she washed her hair, she still didn’t quite feel clean enough. It was as if the experience had tainted her in ways she couldn’t begin to express.

She realized she hadn’t been chewing her nails like she normally did. It was as if everything in her life had changed and not for the better. She felt too numb to chew her nails.

After she got out of the shower and turned off the water, she dried off with the blue towel John had handed her before he left. She dressed in the T-shirt and boxers, both loose on her but comfortable. She gratefully brushed her teeth and then combed the tangles out of her wet hair.

When she was finished, she opened the bathroom door. Steam escaped the room as she walked into the bedroom. She looked at the bed that invited her to slide between the sheets like a lover beckoning to her. Without consciously thinking about what she was doing, she headed straight for the bed and crawled into it.

The bed smelled of John, a scent that wrapped itself around her and made her believe for a moment in freedom.

She rested her head on one of the pillows and drifted off to sleep.

John gritted his teeth as he almost slammed the phone receiver into its cradle. He was sitting at his desk in the police station, following up on whatever leads he could generate.

Hollie was innocent. He wanted to beat the shit out of whoever had killed Carl Whitfield and left Hollie to take the blame. It had to be Freddy Victors. The man had been missing, likely had gone into hiding, after murdering Carl.

When John had left this morning, Hollie had still been sleeping. He’d had to get to work, so his mother had come over to stay with Hollie so that she wouldn’t be alone when she woke up. His mother was to alert him if anyone came near the house.

He thought about how exhausted Hollie had looked in her sleep, the dark circles under her eyes, and her pale, bruised features. He’d wanted to stay there and hold her until she woke, to be there for her. But he had to find the real killer and he couldn’t do that without the resources he had at the station.

God, he’d never felt this way about any woman. He’d known he was getting in over his head when he’d asked her to dance at the Highlander. He’d only gotten deeper and deeper from that point on. What happened to staying away from relationships while he was a cop? What happened to waiting until he was ready to walk away from the police force and start his ranching career?

Because women like Hollie only come around once in a lifetime.

John’s gaze moved to his computer monitor and he stared at the mug shot of Hollie. She looked tired, frightened, and as if she was about to cry. His gut clenched as he scrolled through her vitals and the evidence against her. He didn’t think for a minute that she was guilty, but things sure looked bad. He had to prove her innocence before she went to trial. Hell, he needed to do it now. Her life, her career, could be destroyed by this if it weren’t already ruined.

Killer Kindergarten Teacher.

Fuck.

He dragged his hand down his face, over the rough stubble, as he leaned back in his chair. He had to find Freddy and soon.

Jamie Cruz, John’s young new partner, was back and doing well considering how deep the dog bite had been. Jamie looked up from the report he was filling out via his desktop computer. “No luck?”

“Not one damned clue.” John had put everything he’d been investigating on hold to work on Hollie’s case. Captain Johnson was allowing some leeway, but there was only so much time that John could spend on it.

His cell phone rang and he un-holstered it, hoping it was his brother Reese, or his stepbrother Garrett, with good news.

Instead he saw Nadia’s name and number on the display. He frowned. This was the fourth time she’d called. She’d also sent several “call me” text messages. This was new behavior for her and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Maybe she was in trouble.

Still frowning, he answered, “Nadia?”

“Why haven’t you been answering or returning my calls?” she asked in such an angry tone that it took him back for a moment. “Why haven’t you responded to my text messages?”

John blew out his breath. “I don’t have time to talk. I’m at work and I have a heavy caseload.”

She ignored his statements and cut through what he’d said. “It’s been three weeks since you were here last. When will I see you again?”

Hair at the base of John’s neck pricked. “I’m at work and I can’t talk. I’ll call you later.” He disconnected the call before she could respond.

With a grimace, he shoved his cell phone back in its holster. Nadia had apparently become attached to him despite her agreement that their relationship was strictly “friends with benefits.” He should have known better, damn it. Should have known better than to believe a sexual relationship with one woman wouldn’t lead to expectations he wasn’t ready for and hadn’t wanted. When he got off work he’d have to give her a call and end it.

“Everything okay?” Cruz asked, drawing John’s attention to him.

“Fine.” The word came out clipped and rougher than he’d intended, but he didn’t make excuses for his sharp bark.

Cruz just nodded and went back to his report.

John picked up the receiver for the landline and dialed Garrett’s phone number. Garrett was one of John’s stepbrothers and a damned good PI. What a difference between his own stepbrothers and Hollie’s. They couldn’t be more different.

“What’s up, John?” Garrett answered, clearly looking at his caller ID screen.

“Any progress?” John asked.

“I’m calling in every favor that’s owed to me.” Garrett made a frustrated sound. “So far, not a damn thing. Freddy Victors might as well be a ghost.”

“He’s not that good,” John muttered. “He must have someplace close where he’s hiding out. I doubt he’d leave Prescott. He’s just laying low, waiting for Hollie to be put away for Carl’s murder.”

“Could be,” Garrett said. “I take it that you haven’t had any luck finding Jesus Perez.”

“As soon as I locate Perez, I’m going to haul his ass down here.” John scowled. “I’d like to know where the fuck these bastards are hiding out.”

“John, I’ve got Reese on the phone.” Jamie Cruz held a cell phone as he interrupted John’s conversation with Garrett. “Speaking of that sonofabitch, Reese and Carter located Perez.”

“About damned time,” John said. He repeated the information to Garrett before he added, “I’ll call you back.”

To Cruz, John said, “Do they have Perez in custody?”

Cruz shook his head. “They’re waiting for backup to go in.”

“What’s the address?” John asked and Cruz gave it to him.

John gave a nod. “Tell Reese and Carter we’ll be right there.”

Cruz raised his cell phone to his ear and started speaking to Reese again while John disconnected the call. He pushed back his chair and surged to his feet, knocking over his chair in the process.

Brad Johnson, a rookie and a nephew of the captain, gave John a look that said, “What the hell’s going on?” without voicing it aloud.

Narrowing his eyes, John glared at Brad who shrugged and went back to whatever it was that he’d been doing.

Cruz’s legs weren’t as long as John’s but he kept up with John’s pace. They reached the cruiser at the same time and climbed in, John on the driver’s side. He drove out of the parking lot and headed toward the address Reese had given Cruz.

It took them ten minutes to reach the street the duplex was on. Reese and Carter were parked a few car lengths down the street.

Cruz accompanied John to the front door. Reese and Carter went around back. John knocked on it and said, “This is the Prescott Police Department. We’d like to talk to Jesus Perez.”

A huge crash sounded inside and then a man jumped out the side window, dropped to the street, and started running.

“Oh, hell no.” John took off after the man who was wiry and fast. The man’s build was about the same as Jesus Perez’s, but John couldn’t be sure it was him.

Cruz joined in the chase as they jumped over fences, sped across streets, dodged vehicles, and ran through yards.

The man started to slow just enough that Cruz was able to come up on him from the left, and John from the right. John saw that it was definitely Jesus Perez. Before Perez could go any farther, John tackled him.

Perez fought but John had the man’s wrists behind his back and cuffed him within seconds.

“I didn’t do it,” Perez said.

“Why do they always run when they’re innocent?” John said to Cruz as he dragged Perez to his feet. To Perez, John said, “We’ve been looking for you. We’ve got a few questions.”

Perez scowled. His nose was bleeding and he had road rash on one half of his face from being taken down in the street and landing facedown. “What do you want with me?”

“What don’t we want to question you about?” John said dryly.

He jerked Perez along by his upper arm, marching him back to the house where the others waited. He brought Perez to a halt in front of Reese and Carter.

“The house is clean.” Reese looked at Perez who smirked. “Why did you run? You must be guilty of something.”

“Just hate cops,” Perez said.

“Running is a surefire way to get you on Santa’s naughty list.” Reese and John escorted Perez to John’s cruiser. Reese opened the back door and John pushed Perez’s head down, forcing him to slide onto the seat. Reese shut the door firmly behind Perez.

A short time later, Perez was in an interrogation room, waiting. John, Reese, and Carter stood on one side of the one-way glass and looked at Perez.

“What are the chances that Perez murdered Carl Whitfield or had one of his men do it?” Reese said. “For all we know he could have had Freddy Victors murdered, too, and that’s why we can’t find him.”

“It would no doubt be in retaliation for his brother and two of his men being murdered.” Carter said. “I think that the working theory is right, that it was most likely Victors who killed Perez’s men.”

“Could be that Perez killed Whitfield and maybe Victors.” John folded his arms and stared at Perez. “It’s crossed my mind more than once.”

“He’s all yours,” Reese said to John as he gestured toward the man sitting on the other side of the one-way glass. “Find out if that sonofabitch did it.”

John entered the room. He reached the table, braced his palms on the surface, and leaned in close to Perez’s face. “Did you kill Carl Whitfield or did you have one of your men do it for you?”

“No, but I’d like to shake the hand of the man who did.” Perez grinned. “Or the woman, right? That kindergarten teacher who blew him away?”

John wanted to slam his fist into Perez’s face, knocking the grin right off. But John kept his cool. Barely.

“Where’s Freddy Victors?” John asked in a slow, measured tone.

“Hell if I know.” Perez was still grinning. “Why don’t you ask Carl Whitfield? Oh, yeah. He’s dead. That pretty little bitch did it.”

John’s self control snapped. The rage that had been building inside him exploded outward and he lunged for Perez, grabbing him by his collar.

The door burst open and Reese charged into the room just as John was dragging Perez across the table toward him.

For a moment John saw Perez’s terrified face, as if he were a mouse about to be ripped to shreds by a tiger.

Carter moved between Perez and John, forcing John to let go of Perez’s shirt.

Reese held John back. “Not worth it, John.” Reese nodded toward the open door. “Let us take care of this sniveling piece of garbage while you go take a breather.”

Perez grinned.

Barely reining in his temper, John clenched his fists and stalked out of the room. He closed the door hard behind him.

“Don’t let the bastard get to you,” Cruz said as John walked into the room where they watched Reese and Carter interrogate Perez.

John said nothing, just watched with his eyes narrowed. Here they were with another worthless thug in the interrogation room and not getting a damned thing out of him. Yet another piece of garbage that was proving impossible to break.

When they were finished, Carter and Reese came out of the interrogation room. “He’s hiding something,” Reese said. “But I don’t know if it’s about Carl Whitfield’s murder, Victors’ disappearance, or something altogether different.”

John nodded. Yeah, Perez was hiding something. But then Perez no doubt had a lot to hide.

Without saying anything else, John went to his desk and threw himself in his chair. He dragged his hand down his face. He had to find the bastard who killed Carl Whitfield, and he had to do it before he ran out of time.

Before Hollie ran out of time.

John’s phone rang and he un-holstered it and checked the display screen. Garrett.

“Tell me you have something now,” John said.

“I’ve tracked down the woman Freddy Victors has been sleeping with,” Garrett said.

“How the hell did you find that out?” John shook his head. “We haven’t come across one damned thing to indicate he has a girlfriend.”

“Let’s just say I have my ways.” Garrett’s tone was one of grim amusement.

“Ways that a cop can’t use, no doubt.” John leaned back in his chair. “What’s her name?”

“Linda Solomon.” Garrett gave John the woman’s address and he typed it one-handed into a form on his computer. Linda lived in a much nicer part of town than where Freddy’s trailer was located.

John gripped his phone more tightly. “Have you been in contact with her?”

“Just got the information and called it in to you,” Garrett said.

“We’ll get right on it and put her under surveillance,” John said. “Thanks, Garrett. I owe you.”