Play It Again (16 page)

Certainly not the kind of woman I would
expect to hook-up with Chad Miller, a low life druggie who’s spent
more time in county lock-up than out of it since he became an
adult.

Trixie looks apprehensive, holding the door
only partially open with half of her tiny body shielded behind it,
her eyes shifting from me, to Jase, to Wes, to our vehicles sitting
at the curb at the end of her driveway.

I smile at her, hoping the gesture will put
her at ease. “Ms. Starr, I’m Vance Rutherford, and these are my
partners Jason Pierce and Wesley Gates. We’re looking for—”

“I know what you’re looking for,” she says,
cutting me off. Her voice is short, but soft with a subtle southern
lilt. “Chad isn’t around. He hasn’t been home in a few days.”

I stall at her abruptness, wondering just how
often this woman has to put up with strange men coming to her house
looking for her boyfriend.

Probably far too regularly.

She doesn’t seem all that surprised that
we’re here, almost as though she’s been expecting us. But then, I
guess when you decide to play house with a man like him, you’re
always expecting something or someone.

Raising a questioning eyebrow, I ask, “You
happen to know where we can find him?”

“That depends.” She opens the door a little
further, her eyes narrowed, scanning us over. “What do you want
with him?”

Huh.

Perhaps I misjudged her timidness.

I consider how to respond to her question,
wondering how much of the situation I should divulge. I have a
feeling she’s not going to be surprised to hear that her boyfriend
has a warrant out for his arrest, but I can’t get a solid read on
how far she’s willing to go to protect him.

“He’s a person of interest in a case we’re
working on,” I say after a moment. “Just hoping to ask him a few
questions, is all.”

She eyes me skeptically, not believing me for
a second. “Are you the police?”

“No, ma’am,” Wes says, shaking his head.
“We’re private investigators.”

His words make her laugh. “Well this is new,”
she says and opens the door the rest of the way, stepping out onto
the porch. She shakes her head, amusement flashing in her wide blue
eyes. “Private investigators.”

“Not quite sure why you find that funny,”
Jase says, scowling down at her. “But yeah, we’re private
investigators, and we’d really like to find Chad before the police
do.”

“Sorry,” she says laughing again. “It’s not
really funny, it’s just ...” She shakes her head. “Never mind, it
doesn’t matter. I don’t know where he is. Chad comes and goes
whenever he wants. When he goes, he doesn’t check in. He doesn’t
tell me where he’s going or how long he’s going to be gone. He just
vanishes.”

She’s lying, I think, as I watch her turn
away and pull the door closed, locking it. I think she knows
exactly where he is, or at least she has a pretty good idea of
where to start looking.

“I really wish I could help you guys,” she
continues, “but I can’t. I have no idea where Chad is.”

Jase snorts out a laugh. “I call bullshit.
You know exactly where he is.”

Trixie shrugs. “Believe me or don’t, I really
don’t care, but I’ve got to run, so ...” her voice trails off as
she turns away from us and starts for the steps.

I just stand there, watching her for a tick,
not sure what to say or do. I don’t know if I should tell her
anything, because anything I say she could use to tip off Chad. But
if I say nothing ...

Fuck.

I cut my eyes at Jase and he nods, silently
agreeing that we need to lay it all out for her.

“He’s been vandalizing my girl’s house and
freaking her out for a couple weeks now,” I say quietly, and her
footsteps stall immediately. “Friday night he loosened the bolts on
the back tire of her truck. I was driving when it came off. The
truck flipped and she wound up getting a concussion and stitches.
She landed back in the hospital because of that concussion on
Saturday and was kept overnight.”

“Who’s your girl?” she asks curiously,
turning back to look at me.

I cock an eyebrow, folding my arms over my
chest. “Does it matter?”

She shakes her head. “Not really, but I’d
like to know.”

“Her name’s Piper Owen,” Jase says, before I
have a chance to make up a name. “She’s a sweet girl, keeps to
herself. She sure as fuck doesn’t deserve the bullshit your man’s
been dishing out.”

Trixie says nothing, but her eyes widen,
recognition flaring within their depths.

“You know her,” Wes says. It’s not a
question. He caught the recognition in her gaze as well.

“No,” she says quickly, backing up a step.
“Sorry, but I really can’t help you guys and I have to go or I’m
going to be late for work.”

“If you change your mind, then give me a
call, yeah?” I say, fishing out my wallet and retrieving a business
card, handing it to her.

She doesn’t say a word, but she accepts the
card before she walks away, not bothering to look back. I stand on
her porch, watching as she gets in her white Honda Civic, starts it
up, and pulls out of the driveway. Shaking my head, I turn back to
the house, scoping it out.

“He hasn’t gone anywhere,” Wes says. “My
guess is he’ll be back at this house tonight.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Guess we’re in for a long
night.”

“Wonder how Piper’s gonna feel about a
stakeout instead of a steak dinner?” Jase asks, his voice full of
amusement.

I groan, thinking about how much she wanted
to come with me this morning, and briefly, I wonder if there’s any
way I can get her to stay home without flat out lying to her.

Not likely.

Piper

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with
us?” Kim shouts over the sound of my hair dryer as she comes into
the bathroom. I’m bent over at the waist, blow-drying my wet hair,
with a plush orange towel cinched around my chest. She hops up on
the countertop across from me, her legs swinging in my line of
sight. “It’ll be fun.”

“I’m sure it will be,” I shout back, not
looking up as I work the dryer over my hair. “But I think I’m just
going to stick around here for a bit.”

She’s heading out for a drink (or ten) with
Jimmy, a kick-off celebration of the start to her vacation. After
my Saturday night stay in the hospital, Kim pulled some strings at
work and managed to secure two weeks off. She claims it’s so she
can help find Chad Miller, but I’m pretty sure it’s an excuse to
get out of work. Her boss is an ass and he creeps her out, always
hitting on her, making her uncomfortable, and she’s had enough. I’m
certain she’s going to spend some time job hunting over the next
couple of weeks, since she’s already been hinting at becoming my
assistant.

“If you’re worried about Vance, you
could—”

Before she can finish that sentence, I turn
off the dryer and straighten up, looking at her. “Why would I be
worried about Vance?”

My response makes her laugh as she starts
fiddling with my various body sprays and scattered hair products,
lining them up along the mirror. “Because it’s Vance and you’ve
worried about him in one way or another since you first met
him.”

I cringe inwardly at her flippant statement,
because this (unfortunately) is true, but it’s more than that,
too.

The truth is, this new
hanging out
thing I’ve been doing with Vance is driving me insane.

He pushed his way into my life, forcing me to
look at him as a possibility—not just some fantasy—and I don’t know
what to do about it.

Half the time I don’t even believe it’s
really happening.

More often than not, I find myself wondering
what will happen when he finds Chad and life goes back to normal.
Will he get bored with me? Will things just go back to how they
were?

Ugh.
I hate this. Hate the
uncertainty. Hate the not knowing. Hate all of it.

“I’m not worried,” I say, thoroughly
impressed that I manage to sound semi-confident. “He said he’d be
late, not that he wasn’t coming.”

She makes a face at me, somewhere between
excitement and pity. I’m sure she’s feeling both. Kim is an all-out
advocate for me and Vance making a go of things, but she doesn’t do
well when people around her are stressing. And I’m sure she doesn’t
believe I’m not stressing.

I don’t blame her. I don’t believe me
either.

It’s seven-forty, and I haven’t heard a peep
from him since his last message. So far, he’s only ten minutes
late, which really is nothing, but the silence, the not knowing, is
stressing me—just a little.

“He’ll be here,” she says. “You said he found
that girl from that jerk’s tattoo, right?”

Her serious tone startles me. “Uh, yeah,
that’s what he said.”

“Then he’s working,” she continues. “He’s
probably talking to her right now, finding out everything he needs
to know about that Chad guy.”

I nod again, not sure what else to say, and
flick the switch on my hair dryer, bending back over. She’s right.
I shouldn’t be stressing. I have no reason to worry. Vance will be
here at some point and we’ll go out.

He isn’t going to change his mind.

He isn’t going to get bored.

He isn’t …

Okay, enough.

Enough doubting.

Enough stressing.

Enough.

Kim finishes straightening up my cosmetics
and hair products, lining them by size along the edge of the
mirror. She’s stalling, I think, waiting around so I won’t be here
alone.

It’s pointless, but sweet.

Things have been relatively quiet since
Sunday and aside from Vance hanging around and the constant updates
on Chad, life’s been moving on, getting back to some semblance of
normal since the tire incident.

But even if it weren’t, Vance is still
monitoring my house. There’s no need for her or Jimmy to wait
around, just in case something happens.

“You don’t have to hang around,” I say,
turning off the hair dryer once more and setting it down on the
countertop beside her. “Go have fun. I’m fine here. Promise.”

“I know you are,” she says and lets out a
deep, theatrical sigh, before she hops down and wraps her arms
around me in a tight hug. “Try not to stress too much, okay?
He’ll—”

A shrill ring echoes through the room,
stopping her mid-sentence. I snatch up my phone, catching sight of
Vance’s name on the screen before I hit the button, answering it
tentatively. “Hello?”

“Piper,” he says in a low voice, “something’s
come up. Gonna have to postpone dinner.”

His words slam into me, and I stiffen,
turning away from Kim so she won’t see the sudden disappointment
climbing up my throat. I knew it. I just knew something like this
was going to happen.

“Oh, uh ... okay, sure,” I say quietly. “No
problem, maybe another time or not, whatever.”

“Hey,” he says sharply. “What was that?”

I freeze.

From behind me I hear Kim shuffle a step, and
then mutter something as her hand squeezes my shoulder. I shrug it
off and stick a finger in my ear, ignoring her and focusing my
attention on Vance.

“What was what?” I ask hesitantly.

“Another time or not, whatever?” he says and
sighs. “Not sure what you’re thinking right now, freckles, but
don’t think you can get rid of me that easy. I’m not going anywhere
anytime soon.”

I laugh nervously, not sure what to say to
that. “Uh, I just ... I thought that ...” I sigh, frustrated.
“Never mind.”

“Good,” he says. “So aren’t you going to ask
me what came up?”

I stall at those words. “Uh, okay … What came
up?”

“I talked to Trixie, and I think she’s hiding
Chad,” he says. “Jase and Wes are positioned by her house now,
watching for him. I should be there, too, but I thought you might
be up for a stakeout. I know it’s not the steak dinner I promised
you, but how do you feel about hanging out with me in my truck
tonight?”

My response is immediate. “Are you kidding
me? Of course I want to.”

He lets out a light laugh, the sound making
me smile. “I figured you’d be on board, but I gotta warn you, it’s
gonna be a long night, and probably boring as fuck.”

I laugh. Boring? I doubt that. I can’t
imagine any time with Vance that could possibly be boring. “I’m in.
When do we leave?”

“Right now,” he says, laughing again. “I’ll
be in your driveway in less than ten minutes. Be ready, yeah?”

Less than ten minutes? Before I can respond,
the line goes dead. Call disconnected. I stand there hesitating,
contemplating, clutching my phone tightly.

Holy crap. A stakeout. Right now. With
Vance.

This is ... exciting.

I’m excited.

“What’s going on?”

I jump, turning to face Kim. Her brow furrows
as she looks at me.

“I forgot you were here.”

She makes a face at me, waving a hand
dramatically. “Seriously? How can you possibly forget all of this?
I’m hurt. I’m totally hurt.”

“I’m going on a stakeout with Vance,” I
blurt. “He’s going to be here to pick me up in less than ten
minutes.”

“Sounds fun,” she says, laughing dryly. She
regards me curiously for a moment, her eyes scanning me from
head-to-toe. “Um … you might want to get dressed then, Pipes.”

My eyes widen as I look down at the towel
wrapped around my body. Less than ten minutes. That’s all I
have.

Oh, crap.

Tearing out of the bathroom, I’m vaguely
aware of Kim following, and snickering, behind me as I lunge for my
closet, yanking it open. I rummage through my clothes, pulling out
shirts and holding them up, only to toss them aside, searching for
… I don’t even know. What do you wear for a stakeout? Comfy or
sexy? Something in between?

I don’t have a clue.

“Skinny jeans,” Kim says as she comes up
beside me and pushes me out of the way. She shifts through the
hangers, pushing items aside. She knows exactly what she’s looking
for, and seconds later, she tugs a pair of jeans off a hanger,
turns back to me, and holds them up with a satisfied smile on her
lips. “These ones.”