Pole Dance (31 page)

I saw him nod. But he still didn't say anything.

"What else do you know, Baby?"

"You sure you want to hear this?" he asked softly and I could tell that it was painful for him to watch me hurt. I tucked that bit of info into my 'Jake file' to review later. For now, I could only nod in reply as I steeled myself against the next information he had to give.

"Sam found that your parent's estate was worth over $450,000 including both their house and the apartments as well as your dad's tools and equipment. The insurance paid off the mortgages on both houses and satisfied the liens on the contracts your dad had in process. Your parents had life insurance that were for $50,000 each and the cars and trucks had already been paid off. From what Sam could find, you were only allowed the furniture in your room and your Gram's house slash apartments plus a $5,000 annuity that you can have when you turn twenty-five." Jake was silent as he allowed me to take it all in.

He reached across the small table and captured one of my hands. I felt my body brace, instinctively knowing that his touch was meant to steady me through his next words.

"Babe. Asshole stole almost a half a million dollars from you."

"Holy shit!" I yanked my hand from his and was half out of my chair before I realized the noise in the restaurant had stilled at my exclamation. "Sorry," I mumbled to the tables sitting adjacent to ours as I reseated myself.

I was quiet as I let this knowledge settle inside me.

It hurt.

It hurt to know that I had been struggling for almost two full years while that swarmy bastard had taken what had been
mine
, that my parents had planned on
me
having, giving
me
a chance to succeed.

"How do I…," I swallowed, feeling the tell-tale tickling in my eyes that signaled tears. I swallowed again around the boulder in my throat and forced myself not to cry before I continued on a whisper. "How do I get that back, Jake?"

His large hands covered mine, which had a death grip on my coffee mug as he studied my face.

"Per Sam, a lotta complaints been filed against Jamison. Same reasons. Said you need to look into filing one. Seems a couple of half-hearted investigations happened back in the day. Thinks with Patel in charge, the investigations are gonna be more thorough, yeah? Says the thing we can work on right away is why you're fuckin' paying a mortgage on apartments when your folk's insurance should've paid it off."

"Something to think about then." While it hurt like hell to think of how I'd been swindled, it wasn't something that I could control or take care of this minute. And going after my money wouldn't bring my parents back, though I would've given all the money to Jamison, to anybody, who could bring them back to life, back to me.

I glanced up at Jake and knew he got it, he understood. There was sympathy in his eyes as he rumbled, "Yeah, Darlin', something to think about."

*.*.*.*.*

"Now, Mr. Davidson," Jeff began.

"Hank, please."

"Okay, then, Hank," Jeff continued. Where were you on the nights of February 8th, 14th and 20th?"

"Well…" Hank moved his head backwards to gaze at the ceiling as if it would help him find the answers. "I work most nights at the club. So unless those days were a Monday or Wednesday, I was working."

"Okay. And what were you doing on the 8th and the 20th, then?"

"Probably with my lady."

"And do we know this lady? Does she have a name?"

"I don't understand why you need her name." Hank shifted his gaze from the ceiling to his hands that were tightly clenched together on the tabletop.

Tim studied Hank as he formulated his reply. If he were to describe Hank in two words it would be as a 'Gentle Giant' as Hank was one of the nicest guys you could meet, in spite of his massive build. He couldn't imagine Hank using his strength to hurt anyone much less the girls from the club, especially when it was his job to protect them.

"'Cause we'll need to check with her to confirm you were with her on those nights." Jeff explained.

"So I'll need an alibi is what you're saying." Hank's eyes were now firmly on the white knuckles of his hands. "You think I'm guilty, then? Do I need to get a lawyer?"

"It's okay, Hank. We're just talking here." Tim said. "We're just checking into everything and everybody. We want to nail the sick piece of shit that's killing these girls. You worked with them, right?"

Hank answered with a soundless nod of his head.

"So I know you want us to do everything we possibly can to get these girls the justice they need, right?" Again, Hank just nodded.

"So what's the lady's name that you were with on the nights of the 8th and the 20th?"

"Fiona," came the soft reply.

"Fiona Preston?"

"Yeah."

"So you were with Fiona the nights of the 8th and the 20th? Were you with her all night?" Tim pushed.

"We usually go to dinner or a movie and then wind up at her place."

"Did you usually spend the night, Hank?"

"She won't let me. We'd get done--ah, being together and then she'll tell me to leave." Hank admitted.

"And what time do you usually leave her place?"

"I don't know, midnight? Maybe. One or one-thirty at the latest, I think."

"Do you know if Fiona is seeing anyone else?"

"Huh?" Hank raised his eyes to the detective for the first time since the interview started. "You think she's seeing somebody besides me?"

"We don't know, Hank. Just asking questions." Tim found it fascinating that Hank was unaware of Fiona's alleged private dances for the town's elite.

"She wouldn't do that to me," Hank said softly, pulling his huge hands through his blonde hair and sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than he was the detectives.

Figuring he had gotten as much as he was going to get, Tim left the room and joined Ram out in the bullpen.

"What'd you get?" Ram asked watching his lead detective cross the floor.

"He says he was with Fiona the nights he wasn't working which we'll check out. Don't think Hank's aware that his honey is giving private dances on the side. It's fuckin' with his head to imagine her with someone else."

"Get enough to hold him?"

"Don't think so, Chief. Enough to dig further but not enough to hold him. But not even enough for a search warrant."

"Shit!" Ram exclaimed rapping his knuckles on the nearest desk before turning and angrily making his way back to his office.

"My thoughts, exactly," Tim murmured making his own turn back toward the hall and going back into the interrogation room to cut Hank loose.

*.*.*.*.*

"My house or yours?" Jake asked as we made our way back across the parking lot to his motorcycle. When I didn't answer right away, he snagged me in his signature neck-hug and pulled me close to plant a kiss against my temple. "Your choice, pretty girl."

I mentally reviewed my schedule for the rest of today, Saturday, was pretty light and that I'd always considered my 'get stuff done day' that included laundry until I had to be at The Roses at seven. Since I'd done the few dirty clothes from the basket in my tiny bathroom when I washed the sheets yesterday, that was one less chore I had to do today.

But my thoughts went a different direction as I watched a man standing close to, and admiring, Jake's motorcycle. "Excuse me?" I said, obviously interrupting his perusal. "Could you do us a favor?" I turned and looked at Jake trying to keep my lips from grinning at his confusion.

"Could you take our picture?"

I glanced again at Jake and saw his eyes light up. He had done this with his cell phone at Enrique's and I think we must've looked at that one picture about eighty-three million times.

We needed another shot to capture this moment, our moment. The guy, biker-bad in his boots, well-worn jeans, t-shirt and vest covered in patches, took three quick photos before handing my phone back.

"'Preciate it, man," Jake rumbled shaking the stranger's hand before bumping fists.

"Nice subject," the man growled, pointing his chin in my direction, though I couldn't have told you if it was me or Jake's bike since I was standing next to it scrolling through the pictures he had taken.

I saw Jake's smile as his eyes captured mine.

"Thanks."

We were standing next to the bike after Jake had reviewed the photos over my shoulder, as I scrolled through them again. I pointed my chin up at him and caught a soft, sweet kiss.

"So, where are we tonight, gorgeous?"

Jake repeated himself with no irritation, no impatience.

It was a miracle.

"I have to be at work by seven and am off at midnight," I said watching him. I was finding it interesting that Jake never showed any surprise at my weird-beyond-words schedule, almost like he was aware of it before I told him.

"Traded with Dale because he…" Jake's voice wound down as his eyes skittered, wandering around the parking lot. "Be doin' nights for a couple of days, yeah? Won't get free until two. That too late for you?"

I thought about it for a moment remembering how awful it had been last night without Jake curled behind me, holding me tight around my waist and projecting that tonight would be even worse. Especially with all the food for thought he'd given me today.

"Do you know of a key shop we can stop at on the way home?" I asked arching my neck up and shielding my eyes from the late day sun that was reflecting off the patches of snow that still lingered on the ground. I caught Jake's slow smile, which was just as bright as the reflected glare of the snow. He handed me my helmet and draped his long leg over the bike.

'Guess we're off to make keys.' I thought as I slipped the helmet on and straddled the seat, gripping Jake's hips with my thighs and shoving my hands in his pockets.

I felt Jake's hands reach back to grip and stroke my thighs before he returned them to the handle bars before gunning the low-rumbling engine.

*.*.*.*.*

"Let's get this done," Dale said firmly. "You wanted to talk to me, so talk. I've got to be at the club so let's get on with it."

Ram looked at Dale's crossed arms and clenched jaw which gave evidence that Dale was more than a little upset at being at the Police station. Ram asked him the same questions that he had been asking everyone from the club over the last couple of days. Questions he thought he could recite even in his sleep. Watching Dale as he answered, Ram again noticed that the co-owner of the club, who was usually dressed to the nines and groomed to a fault, was just as much of a mess as he had been the day before.

"I'd have to check my day-timer but if I wasn't closing the club I was probably out. I can get you that info, along with who I was seeing, after I get back to the club, all right?" Dale stood up obviously thinking the interview was over.

"Sit down, Dale."

"We're done, right? I said I'd call you with my whereabouts and with whom when I get back to the club."