In Her Sights (21 page)

“Let’s find a room. Now.” He thrust his erection toward her and she rubbed him again. He swelled against her hand.

“I can’t wait,” she whispered. “Let’s do it here.”

She turned away from him and leaned over the boulder, offering him a tantalizing view of her ass. “Come on. Pretend I’m her. Give her everything she deserves.”

“You’re insane, but I don’t even care,” he moaned.

“Then do it. Right here. Right now.”

He swore, his breath coming in uneven gasps. “Hard and fast, huh, babe? You got it.”

He moved behind her and shoved the sweatshirt up over her hips, then fumbled with his zipper and slid his pants down around his knees. “It’s gonna be good for you. I’m big, and I’m ready.”

He clasped her bare hips and kneaded the flesh she’d offered to him. She winced at his rough touch but gulped down the nausea. Lord spare her from men who thought they could make her want them. At least soon she would feel his touch no more.

“It’s going to be
very
good.” She slipped her hand into her hidden bag and grasped the crowbar. She shifted and swung the weapon at his head. Metal connected with bone, the sound sweet and wonderful.

Blood spattered across the sweatshirt and the grass beyond. He crashed to the ground, stunned and barely conscious. Smiling, she stared at the body lying face down among the pine needles.

“Was it good for you too, lover?
I
certainly enjoyed it.”

She slipped Jane’s sweatpants back on then turned to Tower. He’d started to stir, moaning. “Sorry, Deputy, but I have justice to serve, and for that I need a corpse.”

She smashed the crowbar hard on his skull to finish the job. Again and again and again.

Her breathing came fast and quick as sobs mixed with curses. He. Would. Never. Touch. Her. Again.

She pummeled his body with the metal until her arms lost their strength. She looked down at him. Good. He could still be identified. Just barely, but that’s all that mattered. Her own body throbbed with satisfaction.

“Soon,” she whispered. “Soon, Mama, justice will be ours.”

The night lights of Denver glared off Jazz’s eyes as she bounced in the loaner truck. Luke’s SUV had been more comfortable, but it hadn’t seemed right to keep his vehicle. The clunker was more her style anyway. And its battered body matched her mood.

Wexler had invited Tower in for a nice interview all right. Tomorrow morning. She knew the detective didn’t completely believe her theory. Twelve hours gave Tower—and his accomplice—way too much time to come up with an alibi. Jazz intended to corner Tower tonight and get his girlfriend’s name, no matter what. For Joy’s sake.

She gripped the steering wheel, her focus keen. First she had to find him.

She’d scoured the station house, the gym, his apartment, a few bars he’d been known to drop some bucks in. The last time anyone had spoken with him, he’d mentioned a hot date. With the redhead no doubt. The last sighting had been hours ago. Since then, nothing.

Jazz glanced at her watch. Ten p.m. Shift change at the precinct. Maybe one of the grave-shifters knew where he’d gone. If she had to, she’d bunk in front of Tower’s apartment until he showed.

Sirens blared behind her and she pulled over to allow two fire trucks to pass. Jazz hung a left and followed the engines to see if she could help. Several sets of emergency lights flashed a few blocks down. Her gut clenched. They were very close to her place. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

Smoke billowed into the sky. She drove closer. The orange flames engulfed the upper floor of her building. “No!”

Jazz whipped the truck to the curb, pulled the keys from the ignition, and jumped out. Had everyone escaped the blaze? She raced down the street and held up her badge to the uniforms cordoning off the scene surrounding the conflagration. Firefighters scrambled to secure hoses, and ladders lifted high into the sky, but red licks of flame raged from the third-floor windows. The old building had gone up like dry tinder.

She shoved through the chaos until she reached the fire command post and flashed the badge clipped to her shirt. “I live here. What happened?”

A cop frowned. “According to the witnesses, it looks like it started in the corner apartment on the third floor. A witness thought he smelled gasoline.”

Her
place. Her knees quivered, and she locked them in place. Someone had torched
her
place. Her neighbors had lost everything. Because of her. Unable to avert her gaze from the crackling inferno, she simply stared, bewildered. Everything she touched she destroyed sooner or later.

“Jasmine!” Luke’s voice roared over the crowd. He rushed to her and dragged her into his arms. He ran his hands up and down her back, as if convincing himself she was in one piece. Shoving his fingers through her hair, he fastened his lips to hers in a kiss of desperation. She clung to him, ashamed of her relief at his presence.

He hugged her close and kissed her forehead. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Why? I thought you were leaving with Joy.” Jazz pulled back. “What are you doing here?”

“Nick took Mom and Joy to our cabin in the mountains. They’re safe. I’m here to watch your back.”

“Luke, your place is with your family. I can handle finding out who came after Joy.”

“No way. Look behind you. This just escalated to a new level. I’d wager a year’s salary it’s arson. There is
no
way I’m leaving you alone.”

She should push him away. She couldn’t let him see how much it meant to her that he was here. “Someone said they smelled an accelerant.”

“Not a surprise.”

A crash reverberated behind them and they turned toward the fire. A side wall had collapsed. Jasmine’s heart broke a little as the life she’d known since she was sixteen collapsed. Mr. Peterson’s apartment was the first place she’d ever felt truly safe and secure. Not a home exactly, but certainly a haven. Now it was gone.

Wexler emerged from the crowd of gawkers, his face grim. “I should’ve known you two would be here. How long have you been on site?”

“Five minutes maybe,” Jazz said.

Wexler pulled out his notebook. “Were either of you in Apex Park or Heritage Square in the last few hours?”

“What’s going on?” The tension in Wexler’s back and shoulders, the aggressiveness of his posture set Jazz off. She didn’t like anything about the detective’s demeanor.

“Answer my question,” he rasped.

Dark apprehension flooded Jazz. “I was out looking for Tower to ask him some questions. I stopped in a few places, but never found him. Why the interrogation?”

Wexler turned to Luke. “What about you?”

“After the threat against my daughter, I packed her up and got her out of town. Then I heard about the fire and high-tailed it over here.”

The detective swore, sending Jazz a pointed glance. “So you have no alibi.” He turned to Luke. “And you threatened Tower directly in front of me a few hours ago. Are you two
trying
to get arrested?”

“What’s going on?” Jazz said.

Wexler shifted into an official stance. “Brian Tower is dead. He was murdered on one of the jogging trails nearby. This apartment building is visible from the crime scene.”

Jazz whirled to look at Apex Park. Sure enough, search lights glowed among the piñons and willows.

Wexler stepped forward. “With the bad blood between the two of you and Tower…I’m taking you both in for questioning. Let’s go.”

The gray walls of the interrogation room closed in on Jazz, and she struggled to maintain control. The godawful paint color and the confining walls reminded her too much of the closet her mother used to lock her in when customers came calling.

Jane had been trapped then.

Jazz felt trapped now.

Tower was dead. Their only solid lead.

Jazz’s head thudded with pain. She prayed Tower’s murder was just a coincidence, some cosmic bad luck, but she knew better. His body found near her apartment, her apartment burning to the ground, their confrontations. If she’d been assigned Tower’s murder, she’d arrest herself.

She hadn’t done it, but all the events of the last few days aligned to one possibility…a setup, but who was framing her? The woman? The mob that appeared to have infiltrated the sheriff’s office? Had she seen something she shouldn’t have and not realized it or terminated someone and triggered a vendetta? Was she paranoid?

She rose from the chair, catching sight of her haggard reflection in the two-way mirror. Well, she was only delusional if they weren’t out to get her, and someone sure as hell seemed to be.

Circles shadowed her eyes, her fatigue evident. They were watching her, hoping she’d break. She closed her eyes and focused, pushing back the tide of despair that surged through her. She wouldn’t crack in front of them. She’d survived Truth or Consequences, she’d survived the streets. She refused to cave now.

Jazz turned away from the mirror. She was more concerned about Joy and Luke. He was in one of these rooms being interrogated. He should be with his daughter, protecting her. Jazz should be finding the woman who’d threatened Joy.

Jane’s name had been on that ball. Why? Were her past and Luke’s investigation connected? Too many questions. She needed answers, and instead she was in nearly the same situation she’d been in twelve years earlier. Sitting in jail.

Except this was worse. She had more to lose. This time she wasn’t a juvie, and she wasn’t here for solicitation or petty larceny for the scam she’d run. This time the rap would be for murder of a cop, and there’d be no friendly sheriff stepping in to save her.

Unlike the last time around, however, she was innocent.

Wexler strode in and sat across from her. “I’d get an appointment with your rep, Parker. And soon.”

She flipped her chair around and straddled the seat. “I didn’t
do
anything. Can’t you see what’s going on? I’m being framed.”

“A few hours ago you believed Tower was the one setting you up.” Skepticism dripped from his voice. “He’s dead now. What’s your new theory?”

“Tower’s death doesn’t mean he wasn’t responsible. Talk to Luke. Tower was involved in something dirty. Maybe he pissed off an accomplice. Maybe he just got mugged.”

“Montgomery is answering some tough questions of his own. Worry about yourself.” Wexler pulled out a photo and laid it in front of Jazz.

She gasped at what was left of Brian Tower’s body. He’d been brutalized.

“This was not a mugging gone bad, Parker. He was beaten to a pulp. His wallet was still in his pocket, his service revolver still on him. This was a crime of passion. By someone who hated him. Someone like you.”

“I didn’t do this. I couldn’t,” she whispered.

“You’re a sniper. You kill people for a living.”

She winced. She only did what was necessary to protect the innocent. She didn’t pull the trigger for revenge. She’d never do that. “Why would I murder Tower? Or vandalize my apartment and torch the building? None of it makes sense. You think I used my own blood to write myself a message?”

“We know it wasn’t yours.” He slammed another file on the table. “This is a preliminary report. The blood on the wall was feline.”

“A cat?”

“Reported missing by a couple who lived on the second floor of your apartment building.”

Jazz could barely think through the disbelief. The cops she’d trained with and battled beside had abandoned her without any resistance as far as she could tell. “Do you honestly believe I’d do this? Wreck my apartment, butcher a helpless animal, kill a cop?”

“We’re receiving reports from all over town that a woman matching your description was looking for Tower tonight, and she seemed mighty determined to find him. Several witnesses placed you in the park near the time of death.”

“I wasn’t at Apex Park. I’ll admit I was searching for him, but I never found him.”

“You had the means, motive, and a questionable alibi. How about this theory? Tower discovered corruption in the department and pegged you. You lied about your past, so maybe you were blackmailed, but he had the goods on you. You killed him. Then you and Luke cooked up this little scenario to get you off. Hell, maybe
you
hired the redheaded woman in the first place.”