Pole Dance (29 page)

Jake was just pulling in as they were getting ready to head back downstairs.

"Anything?" Ram found it funny that Jake asked the same question in the same way as Dale had.

"Nothing yet, Buddy, but we're narrowing our search."

"What about the ones that have moved on?" Jake asked.

"Have Paul and Ted setting up appointments for tomorrow at the station," Ram replied as he glanced towards Jeff and Tim. "Ready?"

"Ready, boss," Jeff replied speaking for both of them.

Ram hung back and matched his pace to Jake's. "Something up with Dale?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"No, why?"

"Still looking like something the cat dragged in."

"I'll check on it, yeah? Somethin' you need to know, we'll talk," Jake answered hoping that there was nothing going on with his partner that would be worth telling the police chief about.

Dale was able to deliver what the police wanted and the interviews with Fuego's current personnel went smoothly even though their questions didn't disclose any further leads or suspicions.

Dale was still seated behind the desk when Jake had thanked the officers and escorted them outside. When he returned to the office, he dropped into one of the visitors chairs and watched as Dale, chin on hand, drew loop after loop on the pad before him. The only sound in the office was the muted thump-thump-thump of the music from the club above them.

"Something goin' on?" Jake asked crossing his legs as he settled further into the chair.

"Nothing to be concerned about," Dale replied on a sigh. "Think I saw Sara yesterday and today."

Oh, shit. Jake felt his stomach drop to his knees. Sara had been the love of Dale's life, the one he was going to marry much to his father's chagrin being as she was half-black and the daughter of a single mom. She was the exact opposite that Dale's wealthy family had envisioned for him as a wife but was everything that Dale had ever wanted. Sara had left abruptly a couple of years back. Jake thought it was because she had finally taken the money Dale's dad had continuously offered her, upping the amount each time he had made the demand that she leave his son alone, although Jake could never be sure. And Dale, sure as fuck, never gave a reason when anyone had asked.

All Jake really knew is that Sara left behind her a broken man that had taken a long time to heal. And for Dale to have thought he saw her…

"I glanced in Buxby's when I was going to meet with Jean and I thought I saw her standing in line waiting to order her coffee." Dale's voice was muted as he kept his head down, eyes on the loop-to-loop design he made on the pad. "Saw her again in Skeet's on my way to the club this morning. Thought the sighting at Buxby's was a trick of my imagination, but knew it wasn't when I saw her in the forecourt. She was laughing with Ernie and standing next to her mom's old Toyota."

"Fuck." was all that Jake could say as he watched his best friend, the one person that he knew so well and who knew almost everything about him confess to seeing the girl that had broken him and not just his heart. Sara and Dale had been so entwined with one another that her leaving had left Dale with only half of himself: his personality, his hope, his soul.

"Anything I can do?" Jake asked softly but knew against knowing, especially now that his heart was so caught up with Caitlin, that there was absolutely nothing he could do, offer or say that would help his friend. And that portion of his heart that held Dale hurt at the knowledge that he was powerless to help this man that was part of his heart's family.

"Nope," came the expected reply.

"Here if you need me, man," Jake rumbled as he rose and stepped away from the desk. If he were Dale, he knew that he would want to be alone.

So he left his friend to it.

*.*.*.*.*

Ram wearily climbed the step to the second level of the building that housed the police station. At this time of night, there were little to no officers in the bullpen as they were either out on patrol or home in bed sleeping. Or like Lester on the front desk, feet up to the counter counting the holes in his eyelids as his throaty snore gave his game away. Ram swatted at Lester's size elevens causing the older Desk Sergeant to jump about two feet off his chair before recognizing his boss and offering some inarticulate, mumbled apology.

Ram planned on checking just a couple of things on his desk before going home to get his own sleep and he yawned just thinking about his own bed. Christ, but it had been a long day.

Seemed like every day was a long day on this job. But, he was working hard, going down in the trenches, to show the good folks of Grantham that he was a good Chief, a better chief than ol' Walt Saltzman who had gotten caught with his hands in many cookie jars that he shouldn't have been touching. But he didn't go down alone. Two detectives and Judge Everett were also indicted but no one knew if one of them had copped a plea to expose the other three or if there was that much evidence against them all.

But Ram had only been working the job for three months and was on the job, at least, fourteen hours a day between working the cases and keeping on top of the paperwork. But with the murders the fourteen hours a day had been expanded to eighteen hours a day, seven days a week,

He turned on the overhead fluorescents in his office and shuffled through the phone messages that had accumulated throughout the day. He saw a couple of print outs but nothing of importance, nothing to keep him from his bed.

Until he saw the missing person's report.

Renee Jamison, Layton Jamison's daughter, had been reported missing since Wednesday. Ram scanned through the details and decided to hand it off to one of the detectives in the morning. Then remembered the voicemail that he had gotten earlier from Jamison but he hadn't listened or responded to assuming it had to do with the drunken spectacle he had made of himself at the club.

"Aw crap," Ram mumbled as he turned out the lights in his office and headed back to his car. "When it fuckin' rains, it pours

Chapter Thirteen

"Hey, pretty girl," I heard Jake start on my voicemail. "Gotta stick around the club tonight. Dale's having…uh, Dale's got something going on and I think I need to stick around tonight. Know you got the valet thing this evenin', so I'll think of you but catch up tomorrow. Be good, Darlin', yeah?"

I was already dressed in the pre-requisite uniform of the valets for The Roses, our town's most prestigious restaurant, in black jeans, black polo shirt and black jacket with a huge red rose apply on the back. Of all my jobs, parking cars on Friday and Saturday nights was the one job to guarantee me the most bucks in the shortest amount of time. I could, between the two evenings from seven to midnight, make between $75 - $100 bucks in hourly wages and tips. There was no way I was giving up a shift at The Roses as it was such easy money for the short amount of time I had to work. Money that I counted on; money I desperately needed.

I wished I could say that it was just another typical Friday night when I returned home. I cuddled Floyd and fed him his treats, puttered around doing small cleaning as I waited for my body to signal its tiredness. But I missed Jake. After only four nights together, I missed his presence, his heat next to me as I tried to find sleep in the yet unfamiliar full-sized bed. I tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, the right temperature of cool or heat, but sleep still wouldn't come. It wasn't until I dragged the other pillow and held it close to my stomach that I was finally able to discover a comfortable position and drift off. My last thoughts were, 'This is bad. This is very, very bad.'

I awoke the next morning to a gentle but steady knocking at my door. Glancing at the tangled sheets and waking to the loud, angry mewl of Floyd as I displaced him when I moved to get up, I realized that my sleep hadn't been as restful as I had hoped.

I grabbed my threadbare robe and made my way to the door. Peering through the cloudy lens of my apartment's tiny peephole, I spied Jake on the other side of the door.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said as I let him into the apartment. "Brought coffee and doughnuts to start the day."

I watched as he took the two steps needed to drop his purchases on the bar before moving back to me for a hug.

"You gonna close the door, Darlin'?"

My body was running about ten steps behind my brain as I closed and locked the door before stepping back into Jake's arms. Recognition came slowly, but my heart told me that I was really there when I tucked my head underneath his chin as my arms wove around his waist. Safety, at last. "Mmm…" my throat expressed the all over satisfaction I had being at encased against his body and smelling his fresh clean scent.

Our breakfast consisted of sweet kisses, feeding each other the gooey bakery food and sipping on our individual cups of coffee as I slowly woke up.

"Missed you last night, Darlin'," Jake said in one of the breaks between kisses and bites. "Had a helluva time findin' sleep without you there."

"Me, too, baby," I admitted still not quite fully awake as I snagged another portion of the chocolate glazed donut.

"What's on for today, then?" Jake asked. I was grateful that he had turned the conversation from the mushy stuff to more important things like my schedule. I moved to the far wall of the kitchen that had a calendar showing the covered bridges of Cape Cod. "Uhm, looks like I'm clear until The Roses at seven," I answered.

"How about a motorcycle ride with a picnic?" Jake suggested.

"It's kind of the middle of winter, Jake. Won't it be cold?"

"Dress warm and instead of a picnic, we'll hit the best place for wings this side of the Missouri River," Jake countered with a lift of his eyebrows.

"Give me a few minutes and I can be ready." I didn't need to do much since I'd taken a shower last night when I got home from my stint at The Roses. Ronny, one of the other valets, was a chain smoker and even though we were outside, the smell of his cigarettes always seemed to settle in my hair.

"Take your time. I'll just hang out here with Fred."

"It's Floyd, Jake. My cat's name is Floyd," I called over my shoulder as I moved to my closet to try and pick out clothes for the day.

"Oh yeah. Floyd," Jake said. I saw Floyd scramble away from where I'd seen Jake standing so I knew he had tried to pet him. My damn cat was very persnickety about who he allowed to touch him and Jake had yet to make the cut.

I was trying to do something with my hair, when Jake came to lean against the bathroom door jam and told me about the night at the club when he fired Fiona and poured a very drunk Jamison in a cab. We both were laughing and holding our sides as he finished his story.

"Received a call the next day, Jamison threatened both me and Dale ranting he was gonna destroy us, run the 'smut peddlers' out of town," Jake finished shaking his head at the memory.

"Can he do that?" I asked adding the last bobby pin to the chignon I'd fashioned in the hopes of preventing helmet head from our planned ride.

"Dunno," Jake said and finished with, "Don't care."

I saw his eyes warm with approval as he did a hair to boots, back to hair eye roam. "You look good, gorgeous. Now let's ride."

*.*.*.*.*

Detectives Tim Bell and Jeff Trusdale were on the road, thankful they could be out and about instead of cooped up like yesterday. They had been able to go through a lot of interviews at the club, but they had come up with a whole lot of nothing.

"Who's next on the list?" Tim asked.

"Uhm, Fiona Preston." Jeff read from the list of the women that were working or had worked at the club but had moved on. There were still more open spaces than those that had been crossed off but they had been able to make good time this morning.