Kitabı oku: «Hostage At Hawk's Landing», sayfa 2
Still, he couldn’t help himself. He rubbed Melissa’s back again, savoring the feel of her in his arms for another minute. She was alive. She appeared unharmed, at least physically.
Time to do his job and talk. Not lose himself traipsing down memory lane.
“You okay, darlin’?”
She nodded against him and gave a deep sigh. “Thanks.” She patted his chest, then eased from his embrace and lifted her chin. “Sorry.”
“No apologies,” he murmured, his chest squeezing with emotions again. Damn, she had that effect on him. The thought of anyone hurting her made him want to pound something.
He swallowed hard, forcing his mind back on track and his eyes away from her beautiful face. The sight of that unruly dark auburn hair that had driven him mad when he’d run his fingers through it taunted him to touch it again.
He had to resist.
“I saw the story about your father. I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Dexter ground his teeth, the pain back. “I want answers,” he said honestly.
“He died in an automobile accident?”
He nodded. Thankfully, the paper hadn’t revealed that he was inebriated at the time. “I found a card from another homeless shelter in his truck.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, a frown marring her heart-shaped face. “He was living in a shelter?”
“I don’t know,” Dexter said. “But I’ve been visiting some of them to see if anyone knew him. I’m curious as to what he was doing all this time.” And why he never came back.
Lamar’s voice as he spoke to the officer guarding the scene echoed from the front stoop, jerking Dex back to the reason he’d come.
“You were involved in a shooting tonight?” Dex asked.
Her face paled, and she wrapped her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together. He wanted to draw her back into his arms.
But if he did, he might never let go.
Something he’d have to do. He’d walked away from her before because she deserved better.
She still did.
Chapter Three
Melissa rubbed her arms to erase the chill invading her. Dex’s warm embrace reminded her of feelings that had never really gone away.
Dex exhaled. “What happened here?”
“We were locking up for the night when this man burst in the back door. He had a gun and grabbed me, said he wanted Jim Smith.”
“Did he say why?” Dex asked.
She shook her head. “No, it happened really fast. He pushed me toward the common room, then Jim appeared. Jim offered to trade himself for me, then the gunman told Jim to tie me up. He tossed him a rope. Smith grabbed the rope, then charged the man with the gun.”
Detective Lamar stepped outside, his voice carrying in the slight breeze that stirred. “I want an APB out on this man. Name is Jim Smith. Approach with caution. He’s already killed one man tonight, and is armed and dangerous.”
Melissa tensed at the detective’s tone. She crossed the space to him as he hung up. “Detective Lamar,” she said. “Jim isn’t dangerous, at least not in the way you’re suggesting. He acted in self-defense. He wasn’t armed when he came here.”
Dexter had followed her over to the cop, his arms crossed as he listened.
“How do you know Smith didn’t have a gun?” the detective asked. “Did you search his belongings?”
“Well, no,” Melissa admitted. “But I didn’t see any signs of a weapon. In fact, he was almost gentle at times. He tried to talk the gunman down, then he wrestled with the man and the gun went off.” Her voice cracked as the memory returned. “He was a hero, not the enemy. He saved my life.” And she wanted to thank him for it, not see him hunted down like an animal.
“You certainly are defensive of him.” The detective narrowed his eyes. “Exactly how well did you know Mr. Smith?”
Anger shot through Melissa at the insinuations in the cop’s voice. “He was a welcome guest here just like all of the other men who seek housing with us at Lend-A-Hand.”
“What was his story?” Detective Lamar asked. “Did he have a family?”
Melissa bit the corner of her lip, a habit she had when thinking. “I don’t know. He’d only been here a couple of days and didn’t share much about himself.”
“What did he share?” the detective asked.
Melissa searched her memory banks. “Nothing really. He was quiet, and kept to himself. But he was always polite at mealtimes and respectful of the other men and our volunteers.”
“So you’re defending a man you know virtually nothing about,” Detective Lamar said flatly. “His name sounds fake. He could be a criminal hiding out.”
She had considered that. “I don’t think that’s the case.”
Detective Lamar raised a brow. “What do you think?”
Dex cleared his throat. “Lamar, why don’t you lay off? Melissa told you all she knows. It’s her job to help the men who come here, not interrogate them.”
Officer Whalen, who’d been questioning the men inside, stepped to the door. “I’m finished here.”
The detective shrugged. “You get anything useful?”
Officer Whalen shook her head. “No one seemed to know anything about Smith. General consensus was that he didn’t want to talk. One guy thought Smith was hiding something. Another said Smith hinted that he didn’t have family. But Smith didn’t elaborate so we don’t know if he was married, divorced, had kids, or if he did, what happened to them.”
“What about a job?” Detective Lamar asked.
The officer shook her head. “Didn’t mention one.”
The detective turned back to Melissa. “Did he tell you what kind of work he did?”
He’d thrown that rope lasso-style, like a pro. Maybe ranching? Then again, most men in Texas knew how to rope and ride. “I’m afraid not.” She lifted her chin. “Instead of investigating Smith, why aren’t you looking into the dead man on the floor in the shelter? He’s the one who broke in here and put a gun to my head.”
* * *
DEX COULDN’T DRAG his eyes from Melissa and that tangled mass of hair. She had a heart of gold. But was she naive? Was Smith a criminal, using the shelter to hide from the law? Or...perhaps he was in trouble and the gunman was a bad guy chasing him?
Various scenarios bombarded him. Smith might have owed the man or someone else money. The shooter could have had a personal vendetta against Smith for some transgression against him.
“Listen to me, Ms. Gentry,” Lamar said. “We have to close down the shelter until we’re finished processing it. The men staying here will have to leave, at least temporarily.”
Melissa’s eyes flickered with unease. “How long will we have to be closed?”
“I can’t say for sure. I’ll let you know when we release the space and you can use it again. Meanwhile, I’ll have Officer Whalen escort the men outside.”
Lamar went to speak to Whalen, and Dex gave Melissa an understanding look. Knowing Melissa, she’d worry about the men they’d have to turn away.
“If you find a place for the men to stay tonight, I’ll provide transportation,” he offered.
Melissa’s look of gratitude suggested he’d read her correctly. She was more concerned about Smith and the men at the shelter than she was about herself. “Thanks, Dex. I will do that. I don’t like the idea of putting anyone out when it’s so hot.”
Melissa removed her phone from the pocket of her jeans and stepped aside to make a phone call.
Lamar walked back to him, his expression grim.
“Don’t you think you were a little hard on her?” Dex asked, annoyed at his friend.
“I’m just doing my job.” Lamar grunted. “How do you know her?”
Dex didn’t intend to share details of their relationship. “We met in college.”
“I didn’t think you went to college,” Lamar said.
Dex gritted his teeth. He had gone but not finished. Brayden was definitely the most educated of the Hawk men. Still, he loved his work. “I did, but just one semester. College wasn’t for me. I did take business classes at a local school though before I hung my shingle.”
Lamar worked his mouth from side to side. “I take it you and Ms. Gentry were...involved?”
Dex shrugged. “It was a long time ago. But I can vouch for her. Melissa’s the most honest, caring person I’ve ever met.”
“Caring enough that she’d cover for Smith?”
“You heard her story,” Dex said. “You can believe her.” He gestured toward the inside of the shelter. “Dr. Hudson in there?”
Lamar nodded. “They should be bringing the man’s body outside to transport to the morgue any minute.”
Dex shoved his hand in his pockets. “What do you know about the gunman?”
“Not much, yet. Name on his ID is Clark McTruitt.” Lamar shifted, putting his body between Dex and Melissa as if he didn’t want her to overhear what he had to say. “He had a PI license on him, Dex.”
A tense minute passed. “He was a PI? Where?” He would recognize his name if he worked out of Austin.
“Amarillo.” The door opened and two medics carried a stretcher with McTruitt’s body encased in a body bag on it. “He obviously had reason to come after Smith,” Lamar said. “Finding out more about Smith is key.”
Dex agreed with him on that. “I’ll go to McTruitt’s office and see what I can dig up.”
Lamar’s deep frown of disapproval coincided with a firm shake of his head. “Listen, Dex, this is a homicide investigation. I have to play it by the book.” He slanted him a warning look. “If I need you, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, go home and be with your family, and let me do my job.”
Dex clenched his jaw as Melissa strode toward the homeless men being escorted from the shelter. She could have died tonight.
That thought sent fear crawling through him. He didn’t give a damn what Lamar said.
There was no way he could walk away without answers.
* * *
MELISSA DIDN’T KNOW why the detective rubbed her the wrong way, but he did. She had been defensive of Jim Smith, but rightfully so. Although she had wondered about his past and what he was hiding from, he’d saved her life and she owed him.
She phoned her friend at Another Chance Shelter about forty miles away and explained the situation. The volunteer had enough beds open for the men to stay with them for a few nights if needed.
Several of the men went their own way, although three agreed to move to another facility.
She had a soft spot for Gunther and was glad he accepted the offer. He’d had a hard life. Had been injured in the Gulf War. With a bad leg and PTSD, he’d lost his job when he’d become addicted to pain meds. And he had no family.
An awkward silence filled the car as Dex drove them to the shelter. When they arrived, he parked, climbed out and met her at the passenger side. The men congregated a few feet away, the night taking its toll in the way they spoke in hushed tones about what had happened with the gunman.
“Wait here while I introduce them to the volunteers,” Melissa told Dex.
Dex hesitated, shifting on the balls of his feet. “Actually, I wanted to go with you, ask if anyone in there knew my father.”
He removed a photo from his wallet. She’d expected to see the picture he’d shown her when they’d met in college, but this photo was of an older man, the one he must have buried.
“Did you ever meet him?” Dex asked.
The pain in his voice ripped at her heartstrings and reminded her that Dex had been lost when they’d first met. She’d wanted to save him, but later realized she couldn’t save everyone. She’d learned that with her own father when he’d died with one hand around the bottle, the other holding a pistol.
He hadn’t cared enough about her to stick around. That had hurt the most.
Water under the bridge.
She had to move on, do what she could to help others.
She studied the photo, mentally tapping into the decade of homeless men she’d met on the streets or in various shelters, but she didn’t recognize the one in the picture. “I’m sorry, Dex, but I don’t recall seeing him anywhere.” She squeezed his hand, a warmth stirring inside her that triggered emotions she’d once felt for this strong, hurting man.
Dexter clenched his jaw. “All right. But I’d like to ask inside.”
She nodded in understanding.
Sadly, she’d heard similar stories from other families before. One family member left, leaving the others full of questions, pain and guilt. God knows she’d had her share of that over her own situation.
It was a complicated problem and could only be dealt with one family at a time.
Heartbreak City, if she let herself get too involved. The reason she needed to keep her distance from Dex. She had her own demons to slay.
And she’d barely survived the first time he’d left her.
She didn’t want to revisit that kind of pain again.
* * *
DEX JAMMED HIS hands in his pockets. A faint breeze stirred, bringing the scent of cigarette smoke and the hushed voices of the homeless men.
Melissa rolled her shoulders, fatigue showing on her face. “Let’s get the men settled.”
She texted her friend that she’d arrived, and he followed her to the door. A few minutes later, the men accepted cots in the back of the shelter, and she and Dex stood talking to Edgar, the volunteer.
“I heard what happened,” Edgar said with a worried look. “I’m so sorry, Melissa. Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Melissa said. “But it’s a reminder of how quickly someone can break in.”
Dex showed Edgar the recent photograph of his father and another shot of him around the time he’d disappeared.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Edgar said. “But he hasn’t been here.”
“You’re sure?” Dex asked.
“Edgar has a near photographic memory,” Melissa said.
Dexter eyed the man. He was late forties, wore big chunky brown glasses, had a wide nose and a missing front tooth. The way he picked at his fingernails indicated nerves, maybe a habit from living a hard life himself. Everyone had a story.
He just wanted to know what his father’s was.
Melissa lapsed into silence as he drove her back to Lend-A-Hand. When they reached the facility, she snagged her keys from her purse. “Thanks for driving us to Another Chance.”
“No problem.” He spotted a beat-up minivan in the parking lot and guessed it was hers. Melissa had never valued material things. “I’ll follow you home,” he offered.
“That’s not necessary.” Her voice took on a stiff ring.
He knew she was shaken, but he wasn’t ready to let her out of his sight. “Melissa, you could have been hurt tonight.” Killed, but he couldn’t allow himself to voice that awful thought aloud. “I’ll see that you get home safely, so don’t argue.”
Melissa rubbed a hand over her eyes. She was obviously so exhausted she simply nodded and slipped from his SUV. Just as he thought, the beat-up minivan belonged to her.
She jammed her keys in the ignition, the engine taking three tries to sputter to life.
Anger that she sacrificed so much for others mingled with worry that she might have died doing just that.
She deserved so much better. To have diamonds and pearls. At least a car that didn’t look as if it had been rolled twice.
He glanced back at the shelter before he pulled from the parking lot. Melissa was no doubt worried about the men she’d had to move tonight. But worry for her raged through him. He didn’t like the fact that Melissa put herself in danger by trying to help them. Tonight’s incident proved the facility wasn’t secure.
The thought of losing her bothered him more than he wanted to admit as he followed her through the streets of Austin. His gut tightened when she veered into an area consisting of transitional homes. A couple had been remodeled, but most looked as if they were teardowns. The street was not in the best part of town, either, and was known for shady activities, including drug rings and gangs.
Her house was a tiny bungalow with a sagging little porch and paint-chipped shutters, and sat next to a rotting shanty where two guys in hoodies hovered by the side porch, heads bent in hushed conversation as if they might be in the middle of a drug deal.
He gritted his teeth as he parked and walked up the graveled path to the front porch. She paused, her key in hand. A handcrafted wreath said Welcome Home, which for some reason twisted his gut even more.
Melissa had never had a real home, while he’d grown up on the ranch with family and brothers and open land.
She offered him a small smile. “Thanks for following me, Dex.”
“I’ll go in and check the house,” he said, itching to make sure that at least her windows and doors were secure. From his vantage point now, it looked as if a stiff wind would blow the house down.
She shook her head. “That’s not necessary, but I appreciate it.” She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”
She opened the door and ducked inside without another word and without looking back. An image of her crawling into bed in that lonely old house taunted him.
He wanted to join her. Hold her. Make sure she was all right tonight.
But that would be risky for him.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in danger as he walked back to his SUV.
Chapter Four
Melissa closed the door, shutting Dex outside and hoping he left immediately. She had come close to allowing him to come in. But if she had, she might have asked him to stay all night.
And that would be a mistake.
It had taken her months to get over him when he’d walked out of her life in college. She’d dreamed about him for even longer. Worse, she’d compared every date she’d ever had to Dex and no one had come close to measuring up.
Eventually she’d just stopped dating. Had accepted the fact that marriage wasn’t for her, that her family was the people she served. They needed her.
Worse tonight...the shelter she’d given so much of her heart and time to was a crime scene.
She dropped her keys and purse on the side table, flipped on the light and scanned the living room. The faded blue couch and rocking chair that had come with the rental house were simple, the walls decorated with a few flea market finds from the owner. Nothing that held any sentimental value to her. And certainly nothing fancy. But she didn’t need fancy things.
Just a safe haven to lay her head at night.
Not having personal items made it easier to pack up and move on when she felt the urge.
And she was starting to feel that urge. She’d already been at Lend-A-Hand nearly a year, longer than most places.
Nerves clawed at her stomach. She could have died tonight. And she had watched a man lose his life. She’d seen bad things before, but never death so close-up.
With the temperature soaring outside, she opted for a glass of wine over her cup of nightly hot tea and carried it to the bathroom. She filled the tub with bubble bath, undressed and climbed inside to soak away the stench of blood and death that permeated her skin.
Dex’s handsome face flashed behind her eyes. Once they’d shared a bath, had loved each other the way young lovers did.
She wasn’t young and innocent anymore, though.
And she couldn’t entertain fantasies of Dex again. For all she knew, Dex might be involved with someone else.
She had to focus on work, which made her wonder about Jim Smith. Why had that PI been willing to hold her at gunpoint to get to Jim?
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING Dex met his family at the main house for a big country breakfast his mother had prepared. Honey and Harrison and their baby, little Steven, were already there, the baby cooing from the high chair where he banged a spoon on the tray.
Lucas and Charlotte arrived as he did, Lucas steadying a very pregnant Charlotte as they joined the family in the large dining room off the kitchen. Brayden and Mila and Mila’s little girl, Izzy, were talking to the foster girls their mother had taken in after they were rescued from the human trafficking ring that Lucas had broken up.
As chatter, laughter and hugs floated between the family members and the ones who’d joined the family, a warmth spread through Dexter. For years after Chrissy disappeared, the family had suffered from guilt and the uncertainty of what had happened to her. Learning she was dead had been a blow, just as learning about their father had been. But at least they had closure.
Love for his family overcame Dex as he thought about Melissa. When they’d dated, she’d confided in him her feelings about losing her mother, about her father moving them from place to place. They’d lived in shelters all her life.
No wonder she was at home there.
It still wasn’t fair. She deserved to have more.
“Let’s eat,” his mother called over the noise.
The next few minutes were hectic as everyone grabbed a plate and served themselves from the buffet. Platters of sausage and bacon, eggs, grits, homemade biscuits and roasted potatoes made Dex’s mouth water. One by one, they found seats at the giant farmhouse table the brothers had built to house their growing needs, then his mother tapped her spoon on her coffee mug to indicate it was time for a prayer. The family joined hands and bowed their heads, the voices quieting as their mother gave thanks for all they had.
As the prayer ended, the conversation began again.
The baby squealed as his mother drizzled a biscuit with honey, then tore it into small bites and put it on the tray. Izzy sidled next to the baby and began to talk to him, and the foster girls joined at the opposite end, jabbering about the pool his mother had decided to build so they could cool off in the hot summer.
Charlotte was excited about putting the finishing touches on the nursery for their baby girl who was due any minute. Brayden stood and gestured that he needed everyone’s attention.
He motioned for Izzy to join him and Mila, then grinned at Izzy. “You want to tell them, sweetie?”
Izzy bobbed her little head up and down. “I’m gonna be a big sister!”
The family cheered and stood, hugging and congratulating the couple. Dex slapped Brayden on the back. He still couldn’t believe his little brother was married and had a stepdaughter. And now he was going to add another child to his new family.
Pulling away, Brayden asked with a grin, “When are you going to settle down, man?”
His mother looked at him, and Dex shrugged. “Not going to let anyone tie me down.”
Lucas pounded him on the back. “Because you haven’t found the right woman.”
Dex chewed the inside of his cheek as an image of Melissa taunted him. She was beautiful and sweet and the most selfless person he’d ever known. She’d invaded his dreams and fantasies since college. She would love his family and would fit right in.
But...losing his sister and father had nearly destroyed him. If he gave his heart to Melissa, she might crush it, too.
So he simply laughed off his brothers’ teasing. As they finished breakfast, he asked his brothers to join him in the study. Their mother didn’t allow work talk at the table.
Harrison eyed him with a frown. “What’s going on, Dex?”
Dex crossed his arms. “Did you hear about the shooting at the Lend-A-Hand Shelter last night?”
“Yeah,” Harrison said. “Someone broke in and one of the homeless men shot him.”
Lucas pulled a hand down his chin. “Police are looking for the shooter. They suspect he was using an alias, that he was on the run from the law.”
Brayden raised an inquisitive brow. “Why are you asking, Dex?”
“I know the woman who runs the shelter,” Dex admitted. “Went to college with her years ago.”
“You dated her?” Brayden asked.
Dex cursed himself. Why had he shared that he knew her? “Yeah, but that’s not the point. She claims Smith wasn’t dangerous, that the shooter broke in and put a gun to her head.”
Harrison scowled. “What else do you know about Smith?”
“Nothing really,” Dex said. “But the shooter was a PI, name was Clark McTruitt.”
“Maybe McTruitt knew why Smith was on the run and that he was dangerous.”
“But why hold a gun to Melissa?” Dex asked.
“Melissa?” Brayden said with a tease to his voice.
“That’s her name,” Dex said, irritated. “Anyway, after we found Dad, I asked around at a few shelters to see if anyone had seen him.”
“Dex,” Lucas said with a warning note to his voice. “Dad abandoned us. No need to ask anything else.”
Harrison’s jaw tightened. “He’s right. You have to let it go.”
Brayden twisted his mouth to the side. “Did you find out anything?”
Dex shook his head. “Not yet. But in visiting the shelters, I discovered that three other transients have gone missing the past six months. That started me thinking—”
“That maybe Dad’s death wasn’t an accident,” Brayden said.
Lucas made a sound of disgust. “He was drunk. Loaded, according to the medical examiner’s report.”
“Transients go missing all the time,” Harrison added. “That’s nothing suspicious, Dex. It’s their nature. They roam from place to place. These three may have just moved on to another shelter.”
“Not to any that I’ve found,” Dex said. “And now a PI breaks into this one and tries to kill another homeless man. Don’t you think that warrants an investigation?”
Harrison sighed. “Do you have any evidence suggesting all this is related?”
“Or is this just your imagination looking for problems that aren’t there?” Lucas asked.
Anger seized Dex. Granted, he’d been the hothead of the bunch, and had seen his own share of trouble. But sometimes his instincts had been right.
Like it or not, he had to follow his gut.
And that gut told him something was wrong.
* * *
MELISSA RUBBED HER hand over her bleary eyes as she sipped her morning coffee. Nightmares of the break-in and shooting had plagued her all night. The feel of the gun against her head...the blood spattering...Smith’s shocked face as he stared at her afterward, pain and regret and worry in his expression.
When she’d finally drifted back to sleep, she’d woken up an hour later because she’d thought she’d heard a sound outside. She’d imagined someone breaking into her house. This time she’d been shot and was dying.
A wariness spread over her like a gloomy fog. She was going to turn thirty this year. She was too young to die, especially alone.
Maybe she did want more than work and saving others. Maybe she wanted to carve out a little bit of a life for herself. She’d just been afraid of getting hurt again the way she had with Dex.
She finished her coffee and poured another cup, then phoned April. April offered to contact the volunteers about the center being closed.
“I’ll call the detective and see if he’ll release the shelter for us to go in and clean up today,” Melissa promised. “Then I’ll let you know.”
She ended the call, then punched the detective’s number. The call went straight to voice mail, so she left a message. A knock sounded on her front door just as she finished.
Maybe the detective had come to update her? Or interrogate her again? She hoped it wasn’t bad news about Jim Smith, that some overeager cop hadn’t gunned him down.
Another knock sounded, and she headed toward the front door to answer it. She checked the peephole, always wary that a stranger might come knocking thinking she was the drug dealer they were searching for. There were at least two on the street that she was aware of.
Her breath caught. Not the detective or a stranger. Dex.
For a moment, she drank in the sight of his handsome face. He wore his cowboy hat, jeans and boots, and the brooding expression that made him look even more mysterious and sexy.
She took a deep breath and opened the door, her heart stuttering as their gazes locked.
“You didn’t sleep, did you?” he asked in a gruff voice.
Awareness of his sexuality jolted her nerves. He’d always been intuitive and been able to read her. Maybe that was the reason he’d walked away. He’d sensed she was getting too close, starting to imagine a lifetime with him.
“Not much,” she admitted as she motioned for him to come in.
“I’m sorry.” He stopped in front of her, his breath huffing out. His six-two frame towered over her. He had big broad shoulders and muscles that had probably made every woman’s mouth water when they met him.
She didn’t want to think about how many there’d been.
“It’s not your fault,” she said softly. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about Jim and if he was okay. That detective talked like they’d shoot first, then ask questions later.”
“You really thought he was a good guy?”
Melissa bit her lip. “Yes. Sure he had secrets. But not everyone who does has a criminal past. Some have just suffered life, and are trying to manage the best they can.”
“Like my father,” he said, a trace of bitterness to his voice.
Sympathy filled her. “I don’t know, Dex. I’m really sorry you didn’t have a chance to talk to him and sort things out.”
“Me, too.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and she realized he was still wrestling with pain and guilt.
She wanted to comfort him. But she clenched her hands by her sides instead. She’d run him off once by becoming too emotional.
She wouldn’t do it again.
* * *
DEXTER PROMISED HIMSELF he wouldn’t make this visit about him and his father, but Melissa had a way of getting to the heart of the matter.
And into his heart.
Focus, man.
“I should have stayed last night,” he said.
Melissa shook her head. “Don’t be silly, Dex. I’m fine. Now why did you come? Did you hear something from the detective?”
Dexter shook his head. “Afraid not. I’m on my way to McTruitt’s office to see if someone there can explain why he was hunting Smith.”
“You’re investigating this for Detective Lamar?”
“No, but I like mysteries.” Or rather, he couldn’t let them go until they were solved. He’d always been that way. Always would.
He removed a card from his pocket and offered it to her. “I wanted you to have my number in case you needed something.”
