Small Town Spin (11 page)

It was time to suck it up and call Kyle.

11.

Torn between two hotties

I made it back to the freeway before I dialed Kyle’s number. We’d been to dinner several times over the winter, and it was fun, getting to know him again. But I had blissfully not had to talk to him about work in months. And I didn’t want to start again.

“Hey, you,” he said when he picked up.

“Hey, yourself,” I said. “You have a few minutes?”

“For you? Sure I do.”

I checked the clock on the dash. Almost nine, and it would be another hour before I got back to Richmond. But I’d rather talk in person. I had a way better chance of convincing Kyle I might be onto something if I could look him in the face.

“Are you going to be up for a while? I’d kind of like to come by.”

“Oh, yeah?” His voice dropped a full octave. “From dinner and drinks to booty calls? I mean, not that I’m complaining.”

“For the love of God, Kyle. Way to jump to conclusions. Because a booty call is so me. I need to talk to you.”

“I know I’m irresistible. Waiting for you to catch up.” He paused. “Nothing? Okay. Talk about what?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there.”

“I’ll open a bottle of wine.”

“You’re impossible.”

I clicked off the call and spent the rest of the drive to Kyle’s apartment mentally rehearsing five different ways to keep him from blowing me off. I stopped in front of his building still unsure any of them would work.

Tapping my foot through the ride up the rattly old elevator to Kyle’s loft, I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm my jangled nerves. At least I didn’t still sound like death.

He opened his front door before I knocked, a smile playing around his lips.

“I saw you park the car.” He slid one hand into the back pocket of his well-worn jeans, flexing his impressive upper arm as he did so. My eyes widened at the way his red t-shirt hugged every line.

“You sure you just want to talk?” he asked, watching my expression.

I cleared my throat and tore my eyes from his shoulders. “I’m sure.” My voice hitched between the words.

“No, you’re not.” He grinned. “But come on in.”

He waved me toward the big olive sectional that dominated the living room space, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with two glasses of white wine.

“Kyle.” I tried my best to sound like I was giving him a warning, but wasn’t sure it worked. Dammit, he looked good.

“No means no. Got it.” He handed me one glass and retreated to the corner of the sofa with the other. I put three cushions between us, just in case, and sat down, kicking my copper Manolo peep-toes to the polished wood floor.

“What are you into now?” Kyle’s smile went from sexy to intrigued as he studied me over the rim of his wine glass.

“Why do I have to be into anything?”

“Because you’re sitting way over there. Which means you didn’t call and invite yourself over at ten o’clock on a Saturday night because you’re lonely. So you’re working. I know you.”

I laughed. “I guess you do.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve been following this story out in Tidewater,” I began.

“I’ve been reading it. Teen suicides.”

“Well...” I drew the word out. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Oh, yeah?” He sipped his wine nonchalantly, but his ice-blue eyes were interested. “Why not?”

“The whole thing has seemed off since the first time I went out there,” I said. “Why does a kid like TJ Okerson kill himself?”

“It happens more often than you’d think,” Kyle said. “Especially with kids involved in sports at that level. It’s a lot of pressure.”

Just like Aaron. And Sheriff Zeke. Was all of law enforcement so jaded?

“I thought about that. But I don’t think the Okersons were putting crazy pressure on TJ. His baseball coach doesn’t, either. And Grant Parker from our sports desk is good friends with Tony Okerson. He says no, too.”

“Girl trouble?”

“The girl is the second victim.”

“I saw. I’m saying, maybe it was guilt? They fought, he killed himself, she couldn’t live with it?”

I sighed. Kyle was a great devil’s advocate. “The parents say no. That’s actually my strongest argument. I just came from talking to both moms. They say they don’t buy it. The girl’s mother says the note the sheriff is pinning his ‘suicide’ label on wasn’t in her daughter’s handwriting.”

He set his glass on the table and leaned back into the deep cushions. The expressions playing across his face said he was trying to figure out how to convince me I was wrong.

I raised one hand when he opened his mouth. “I get it. You think I’m nuts. But can we consider, just for a second, that I might not be?”

He raised one eyebrow. “I’m reluctant to encourage you. You have a history of getting yourself hurt.”

“Only when I’m right,” I said. “Which, can I just point out, I was last time. And you didn’t believe me then, either.”

“Nicey, I’m not sure what you want me to do about this even if you are right. Which I’m not conceding. This is so far from my jurisdiction your dead kids might as well be in Constantinople.”

“I’ll get to that in a second.” I needed to ask him about the moonshine, but I was pretty sure he was going to palm that off on the ABC police, and I’d gotten nowhere there. If he believed me about the kids, he’d want to help me with the moonshiners. “For now, can I just bounce this off you? You’re Captain Supercop. I need to know if I’m missing something.”

“It sounds to me like you’re seeing something that’s not there, not missing anything. Of course the mothers don’t want to believe their children took their own lives. I don’t have kids and I get that.”

“Stop judging and just listen for a minute,” I snapped. The words were sharper than I intended, but he was making me regret calling him in the first place. The mental tug-of-war between that irritation and my apparent inability to ignore the sliver of his toned abdomen I could see where his shirt had ridden up was making me testy. I gulped my wine and tried to steady my voice. “Sorry.”

“You have the floor.” He spread his hands, staring at me with a casually curious look.

“Thank you. So, the mothers say there was a girl. Another girl. Who was creepy-stalkering TJ and hated Sydney.”

He tipped his head. “You know anything else about her?”

“She’s a cheerleader at the high school. Used to move in the same social circle, but she got blackballed last year when she kissed TJ at a party.”

Kyle’s hand moved to his chin, raking over the bristles of his barely-there auburn goatee. “Being demoted to social outcast is a powerful motivator for a high school girl. But it takes a certain kind of person to be capable of murder.”

“I know. I want to talk to this girl, but she’s not exactly going to sit for an interview, especially if she did do something. Which is where you come in.” I widened my eyes and smiled earnestly.

Kyle blanched. “I can’t go out to Tidewater flashing my badge and haul a teenage girl in for questioning. Are you kidding? I’ll end up in a manure truckload of shit. I don’t care how cute you are.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Stop looking at me like that.”

I sucked my cheeks in and batted my lashes, and Kyle laughed.

“I’m not asking you to question her,” I said seriously. “Not officially. But there’s a big town street dance next weekend. I want you to come with me. Help me chat up the locals. In that kind of a setting, people will talk, right?”

“Like, on a date?” He leaned forward, putting himself in arm’s reach, and let his eyelids drop halfway.

I sipped my wine. Oh, why the hell not? I wasn’t committed to anyone. Joey was hot in a different way than Kyle, and I liked him a lot, but there were no promises on the table. Besides, I had never once in my twenty-nine years played the field. Maybe I should ask Parker for pointers.

“Sure.”

“Yeah?” He grinned. “All right. I don’t know how close we’ll be able to get to teenagers without looking fairly creepy ourselves, but I’m game.”

“We’re younger than most of the people who play teenagers on TV,” I said.

He chuckled. “I don’t feel old. You ever wonder how the hell we got to be almost thirty?”

“Dude, a reporter mistook me for Sydney Cobb’s mother tonight,” I said. “I’ve wondered about nothing since.”

“You don’t look a day over twenty-one.” His eyes locked on mine, a sexy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

I leaned toward him, my hair falling into my face. Kyle reached up and brushed it away, his fingers trailing electricity across my cheekbone. His touch was thrilling and familiar at the same time. Like coming home to fireworks. I leaned my cheek into his palm, and he drew the pad of his thumb across my lips. My breath stopped.

“Nicey.” He slid toward me.

I let my eyelids fall. “Kyle,” I whispered.

The couch cushions shifted as he leaned in. Just as my Blackberry erupted into the theme from
Peter Pan
. My eyes snapped open. Kyle slumped into the sofa and let his head fall back, his breath coming like he’d been for a run. I knew the feeling.

“What?” I grouched at the phone, yanking it from the side pocket on my bag. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Kyle’s head popped up.

“Hey.” I put the phone to my ear.

“You sound better,” Joey said.

“I feel better.” And a little like a jerk. I shot a guilty look at Kyle.

“I think I might have a friend who knows a guy who knows something about your moonshiners. But you’re not going to talk to him alone. When are you free? I’ll set it up and come along for the ride.”

“Really?” I grinned. Kyle’s eyebrows shot up, and I tried to calm myself. Talking about going to a meeting with the Mafia in front of the ATF. I had some titanium cojones, too.

“Who is that?” Kyle mouthed.

I shook my head. Good Lord, what a can of worms. I turned my attention from the hunky guy on the couch to the one on the phone.

“I’ll make time on Monday or Tuesday. I’m going with Parker to TJ’s funeral, but that’s all I have in stone right now. Er. You know what I mean.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“I’d like that.”

“Sweet dreams.”

He hung up and I turned back to Kyle, the spell broken. “Tell me what you know about moonshine.”

He laid one arm along the back of the sofa and sighed. “Why?”

“That’s my other theory. I think TJ was drinking it the night he died. I’m pretty sure Sydney was, because I saw the jar in the stuff the cops retrieved from the scene. They said it was near her. I did some reading, and it seems improperly made moonshine can kill people.”

“It can. That’s one of the reasons it’s illegal to sell it unregulated. People think the government just wants their cut of the money. But the laws are there to keep people safe, too.”

“So how is it that people still get away with making and selling it in the twenty-first century?”

“Funnily enough, the same kind of crafty evasion that has been in place for a hundred years. That, and there are aspects of the law that protect them. Or that they hide behind. For example: agents can go right up on a still, but if it’s not running, there’s nothing we can do. Moonshiners know that.”

“But why not stake them out?”

He shook his head. “First, that’s expensive, and a lot of resources going into cracking what’s usually a small operation. We have a budget just like everyone else. Second, it’s harder than it sounds. Most of that stuff is made out in the country. You can’t scratch your ass without everyone in three counties knowing. An unmarked sedan full of strangers with crew cuts? They’ll keep everything shut down until it rusts before they’ll run a still if we send a team out there. The best way to work moonshiners is to get undercover. But that takes for-bloody-ever. It’s hard to get those folks to trust new people.”

“But what if that’s how these children died? What if more people die if you don’t do something? Is it worth the money then?”

“Possibly. But slow your roll, Lois. There’s also the whole business of placing an agent undercover. You’re talking more money, time away from the guy’s family. An operation like that can take months—hell, years—to infiltrate. And, it’s not my jurisdiction unless it’s crossing state lines. It’s an ABC police matter unless I can prove that. “

“Of course it is. That’s like, the one police agency in town where I don’t know anyone. I don’t suppose you have a friend over there who might talk to me?”

“I haven’t been here long enough to make any good friends over there, but I know a couple of guys. I can vouch for you and see if they’ll give you a few minutes. Does it have to be on the record?”

I bit my lip, considering that. It would help. Especially with new cops I didn’t have a history with. Not everyone is a solid source. Ashton Okerson’s gaunt face flashed through my thoughts. I wanted the information more than I wanted an attributable quote.

“I’d prefer it, but if the only way you can get them to talk to me is to tell them it’s not, go for it.”

He nodded. “Are you even considering the possibility that you’re wrong about this?”

“About there being moonshiners in Mathews? Nope.”

“Nicey.” His voice had a warning edge.

I sighed. “Yes. But what if, Kyle? What if there’s a moonshine outfit poisoning kids? What if one of these jealous little creeps spiked their drinks with something? The open-and-shut doesn’t feel right. And no one else is listening to these people. Hell, even Aaron White at the PD told me it was probably nothing more than what it looks like. They deserve to know why they’re burying their children. So what if I’m wrong? I’m out a few evenings and a couple of Saturdays. But if I’m right—if they’re right—how could I ever close my eyes again if I don’t try to help?”

His face softened. “You have a good heart. It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about you. But you know you can’t get emotionally invested in every case. You’ll burn yourself out.”

“I don’t. But this is different.” My voice broke, memories I’d held at bay for two days crashing through my defenses.

“I know, honey.” He reached across the sofa and grabbed my hand. “Have you even talked to your mom?”

“No.” I bit my lip, telltale pricking in the backs of my eyes a warning that tears were coming. I closed my eyes against the flood, but they fell anyway. I pulled in a hitching breath. “I keep hoping she won’t read it. It’s April. Weddings are dropping from the sky. She barely has time to eat.”

“Probably a good thing.” He stroked the back of my hand with his thumb, and I fell across the cushions, burying my face in his shirt and sobbing until the tears were gone. Kyle stroked my hair and made soothing noises at intervals, but mostly he just held me and let me cry.

When I finally sat up and dragged the back of one hand across my face, he was ready with a tissue box and a smile.

“I figured this would get to you,” he said.

“Then stop giving me shit and help me.” I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. “Parker asked me to help. Their parents asked me to help. I can’t let it go, Kyle.”

He nodded, a long sigh escaping his chest. “I guess I knew that when you called.”

“So you’re in?”

“However I can be, but I’m not sure how much that is unless you can prove the moonshine is leaving Virginia.” He held my gaze for a long minute, his mouth pressed into a tight line. “Just because the parents don’t see what the cops see doesn’t mean this is the same story, Nicey.”

“Maybe. But my mom was—is—” I threw my hands up. “What if it is? No one would help her. Well, except for your dad. I will always love him for trying. But what if we can help the Okersons?”

He squeezed my hand. “Whatever you need.”

I smiled and returned the pressure on his fingers, wincing at the damp circle on his shirt. “Sorry about that.” I waved my other hand toward the spot.

“Eh. It’ll wash.” The look in his eyes was so sincere I almost lost it again.

“Thanks, Kyle. I’ve tried so hard to not remember. To make this be just a story.”

“We all have cases that get to us, honey. But watch yourself. You’re not helping the Okersons if you get yourself shot by a pissed-off redneck who doesn’t want to lose his moonshine money.”

“Noted.” I stood and turned for the door and he followed, leaning on the frame as I stepped into the hallway. I said goodnight, then spun back and pulled him into a hug, landing a soft kiss on his stubbly cheek.

“It’s nice to have you around,” I whispered as his arms tightened around me.

“It’s nice to be here,” he said into my hair.

I stepped away and opened the gate on the elevator. He was still watching when I disappeared toward the lobby.