The Green-Eyed Doll (14 page)

“Give what?” JC wiped the bar down and worked his way closer.

“Our girl and the sheriff are doing the nasty, but I can’t get details from her.”

“Goddammit, Marty. Get your mind out of the toilet. Give the woman a break.” JC scowled and moved on down the bar.

“Really. We’re not.” Catherine held up her hands in surrender.

“I don’t get it.” Marty patted the barstool next to her. “Matt is drop-dead, God, I-can’t-believe-you-haven’t-slept-with-him-yet, gorgeous. A blind man could see the sheriff had the hots for you the first night you worked here. Girl, he all but stuck a sign on his forehead. What’s the problem?”

“That’s such an exaggeration,” Catherine protested. “We’re friends.”

Marty coughed, sputtered over her swallow of beer. “That’s wrong on so-o-o many levels. A fine specimen of a man like him was born to be more than a ‘friend.’ For you to not have sex with him...the idea hurts my heart.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t want more. Sex leads to demands and expectations. The first thing you know, everything goes sour. Trust me. I know.” Catherine wished she hadn’t spouted off. Marty’s expression had sobered. Her chin dropped, and her mouth hung open.

“Oh, honey. I’m forty-six-years old. If anybody has a negative opinion of relationships, it should be me. But I’m here to tell you, you’re crazy if you don’t sleep with Matt.”

“It’s not an opinion. It’s a fact.” Catherine tapped her watch hinting that the break was over.

“Go back to work. But you and me, we’re getting drunk one night and having a long talk. Making love between two grown people, sharing without strings, I’m living proof it can be done.”

Catherine made the rounds, checking on her customers. Whenever Marty caught Catherine’s eye, Marty would shake her head, making her ponytail flop wildly.

****

Sunday, August 20th, 9:00 a.m.

Ash Hunter answered on the third ring. His groggy hello followed by a softer more feminine sound confirmed Matt had disturbed something. “Man, you’re such a whore-dog. Want to call me later?”

“Hell no. I don’t remember the last time you dialed my number. You’re not getting away that easy. What’s up?”

“Seriously, if you’ve got a lady with you, and we both know how seldom you have one, I won’t keep you.”

“Jealousy doesn’t become you. Don’t make me come to the boonies and kick your ass.” Hunter’s smartass tone shifted to serious. “What’s up? How’s the head?”

Matt’s decision to ask for expert help had been easy. His old partner had an uncanny skill for sniffing out homicide clues. Ash’s training in the field far surpassed Matt’s or any of his men. Asking for help didn’t hurt his pride, he had a murderer to catch.

“Just peachy. The ‘boonies’ are what I want to talk to you about.” He skirted Hunter’s question about Matt’s brain-crushing headaches—the ones the shrink had assured him would go away when he dealt with his self-induced stress and misplaced guilt. “I have an offer to make.”

“Couldn’t be better than the one I got last night.”

“Yeah, right.” Matt chuckled and envisioned the smirk across his buddy’s face. “I need your help.”

“Talk to me.”

In work mode, Hunter was possibly the coldest- hearted bastard alive.

“What are the odds of your boss loaning you out on temporary assignment? Could be a few weeks—a couple of months.”

“Makes no difference. If he says no, I’ll take time off. You need me—I’m there. Is this about the missing woman you mentioned a few weeks back?”

“Yes and no. She’s dead. Found propped up on the side of the road naked except for a red bow tied around her neck.”

“Sorry to hear it.” The rustle in the background said Hunter was out of bed and on his feet. “Keep talking. I gotta fix some coffee.”

“A second woman went missing five days ago.” Matt refused to utter the word serial, but his mind had no qualms about screaming it inside his head. “She didn’t come home after work. No trace of her.”

“You think it’s the same perp. Don’t you?”

“Yeah. I’d bet good money. And we’re pounding our heads against a wall. How many times can I interview the same people? Nothing’s breaking loose.”

“What have you got in mind for me?”

“I’m running out of time. Annie Travers is running out of time. Maybe I overlooked something.”

“I don’t have to tell you, the chances of finding her alive after this long...”

“I know the odds aren’t good.”

“You think you’ve got a serial killer.”

“One who kidnaps, rapes, then kills. I tried to find some commonality. Hell, the only thing I’ve seen they have in common is eye color.” Matt ran his hands through his hair and tried to block out the picture of Julia Drummond’s dead body. Her image haunted him day and night.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. Nothing else matches. You’ll understand when you see the crime scene pictures. The poor woman was naked, with her face powdered and lips painted. Ash.” Matt paused, swallowed hard. “He glued her eyes open. She looked like a porcelain doll.”

“Bastard. Where do you see me fitting in? I don’t want a pissing match with your men.”

“I have six deputies spread out over almost a thousand square miles with nearly twenty-seven-thousand people to watch over. Two of which are working this case. The rest are spread thin because none of the small towns can support a local police department. Have no doubt, the seven of us will welcome your big city expertise.”

“Pretty sparse territory you got out there, with people spread out few and far between. You’re sounding stressed.”

“You need a bigger word. And to answer your earlier question—yes. I’ve had a couple of killer headaches.” Matt pressed the heel of his hand against his temple. “Satisfied?”

“Easy, big fella. I’m on your side.”

“That’s where I need you to be.”

“We just wrapped up a case. Want me to talk to Captain Banks?”

“Leave Banks to me.” Matt had a thought he hadn’t considered. “You gonna stay at my place?”

“Oh, hell no. Put me in a hotel. Better yet, a corporate apartment. You do have those in the boonies. Don’t you? If your budget can’t afford it, mine can. Hang on.”

Matt listened while Hunter and his lady friend discussed who’d call whom and when. After a few seconds of silence, a door closed.

“Ask the honey in your office to check around. She’ll find a place for me.”

“I don’t have a ‘honey’ in my office.”

“Don’t get stingy. I talked to her a few weeks ago. Remember? Thanks to her, I have your cell number.”

“You spoke to Sue. She’s the day shift dispatcher and my right arm. I’ll ask her to start looking first thing in the morning.”

“Is she single?”

“I appreciate your help.” Matt couldn’t resist the temptation to have fun with his old partner. He baited his friend by ignoring his question. “If I can ever...”

“Nice try, buddy,” Hunter interrupted. “You want my help, don’t be ignoring me. I repeat. Is. She. Single?”

“Yes.” Matt intentionally huffed out a loud sigh. “But she’s not for you.”

“Why? She yours?”

“No. Listen to me. This woman will chew you up and spit you out.” This conversation was getting better and better. Everything Matt had said was the God’s honest truth.

“Hot tempered. I like ’em hot. Talk to me tomorrow after you’ve spoken to Banks.”

A small part of the load eased from Matt’s shoulders. He hung up and squatted down in front of Benedict Arnold. The dog stood at a distance and sniffed at the extended hand. “Be that way. If you were nicer to me, I might’ve taken you with me to see Catherine.” He punched buttons on his cell while he held the door open to put the mutt outside. “Join me for lunch?”

****

Sunday, August 20th, 11:30 a.m.

Catherine pulled into the parking lot, and her jaw dropped. Leaning against the hood of his pickup, wearing jeans and a blue shirt, legs crossed at the ankles, Matt waited. Hatless, which was unusual, his jet black hair stirred in the breeze and fell across his forehead. He slipped off his sunglasses and smiled. Mesmerized, she bumped into the curb, having failed to mash hard enough on the brake pedal.

His fingers were on her door handle by the time she killed the engine, and seconds later, she was in his arms. She’d never have expected him to kiss her in public, but his arms folded her to his chest, and his lips captured hers. She stood on her toes and briefly surrendered.

“There,” he said with conviction. “That didn’t hurt. Did it?”

“Not at all,” she agreed, urging her jumpy stomach to calm down.

“You okay? You almost plowed into the curb.”

“I’m great. To quote Marty, ‘If it got any better there’d have to be two of me.’ I think that’s how she says it.”

He frowned and placed his hand on her back again. He shifted his gaze to her car then back. His behavior struck her as odd.

“What’s wrong?”

“My grandfather would’ve said, ‘I’m makin’ sense of the situation.’” The corners of his mouth lifted. The smile changed his handsome face to heart stopping beautiful. “Aren’t your windows rolled down a tad too low?”

“Not really.” Catherine crossed the street. “I leave ’em cracked on purpose.” Damn, the detective in him was showing.

“That’s further down than cracked. Your car could get stolen.” He stepped between her and the door to the café. His gaze pinned her in place.

He had cop eyes when he glared. He was goading her, fishing. “I’m not that lucky.”

“How long’s your air conditioner been on the fritz?” His brows furrowed.

“Not long.” She slid her hand in his and pulled him inside the café. “Aren’t you the smart cop? How did you know?”

He rolled his eyes. “Duh. Didn’t take a genius.” He reached behind her, pulling the wet blouse away from her back.

“Eewww.” She scooted away from him and dodged further discussion by becoming engrossed in the menu on the wall. The Pizza Stop was a small order and pick-up-at-the-counter café, but the food was quick and good. Catherine let Matt order their food while she got drinks from the self-serve station. She followed him to a table and sat across from him.

“If we were at Antonio’s, Mama would insist you sit next to me.” Matt’s eyes glistened with mischief while he rubbed the thumb and fingers of his hand together.

“Sitting close is wonderful, but the view’s great from over here.”

Color rushed up over his sculpted chin to his cheekbones. He bolted from the booth to pick up their lunch. When he returned, his color had returned to normal.

“I didn’t mean to make you blush.”

“I don’t blush. Let’s talk about your car.”

“Let’s not,” she mumbled behind a slice of pizza. “I want to know what’s wrong with your hands.”

Confusion furrowed his brow. “Nothing’s wrong with them.” He wiggled his fingers to demonstrate.

“Then why do you rub your thumb and fingers together like they’ve gone numb?”

Matt’s gaze shifted from her to his hands and back. For a second he appeared either confused or undecided. Then he rubbed them together and raised one eyebrow in question.

“Yes. Like that.” She mimicked his movement.

A sensuous smile spread across his face. This wasn’t an ordinary smile. It stripped away her last ounce of resistance—said he had a secret and wasn’t about to share—and made the back of her blouse damp again, along with an assortment of other places.

She blinked a couple of times to clear a sudden onset of double vision. “Well?”

He leaned forward and whispered. “I don’t know you well enough to answer.”

“What does that mean?”

He dismissed her question with a wave of his hand and a couple of gulps of iced tea. “I have a personal question for you. Money’s keeping you from having the AC in your car fixed. Right?”

“If you’re planning on offering to pay, don’t.” Their relationship meant a lot to her, but she paid her own way now and was damn proud of it. Being indebted to any man, including Matt, wasn’t an option. She hoped they weren’t headed for an argument.

“Catherine, I admire how independent you are. Accepting help from a friend isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of trust.”

“Trust is one thing, money is another. I can’t. Won’t.”

“There weren’t any strings attached. Wouldn’t keep you from getting a ticket. My help does not come with a price.”

“I appreciate the offer. I’ll put my car in the shop soon. Until then, well, I’ve made it this far into the summer.” She stretched out her hand. “Friends?”

The second he touched her, a blast of heat shot through her body. He was harder on her than the weather.

“Always.”

Catherine kept the topics light for the rest of lunch. Time spent with Matt was limited. She understood why. His mind never strayed far from work. On the way back to her car, she mentally chastised herself for not noticing how tired he looked.

“Why don’t I fix your supper tomorrow night?”

“I’m always available for free food.”

“Good. Come around seven.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, leaning into his solid chest when his hand cupped her chin. She’d never been this brazen. And out in broad daylight.

Maybe Marty was right. Maybe two people could enjoy each other without things getting ugly. Maybe it was time to shorten the
Never
list.

Along with regaining her pride and independence, a bolder, passionate woman had emerged. She liked this version of herself more every day. She pulled up to the stop sign and glanced back over her shoulder. What she’d have given for a camera.

Standing exactly as he’d been when she’d arrived, Matt had leaned against his hood. He’d crossed his legs at the ankles and was rubbing his fingers and thumb together. It was her turn to smile. She had a mystery of her own to solve.

Yep. He was officially off the
Never
list.

Chapter Eleven

Monday, August 21st, 10:00 a.m.

Matt finished off a piece of Sue’s apple pie. “You’re too good to me. Nobody’s ever fed me like this.”

He’d mark today down as successful. Minutes ago, he’d finished an open discussion with his small staff. He’d listened to their comments and was satisfied Ash Hunter would be welcomed.