The Green-Eyed Doll (25 page)

“Forget being sorry. If Stevie won’t stand up to them, I need you to. I believe you said, ‘I want this stopped.’ Then step up and help make it happen.”

“Can’t. They’re all my customers. Every last one of them comes in here. They’re not bad men. They’re scared fathers and husbands.”

“Better to lose one regular than four. It’s good business, right?” He didn’t wait for her response. At three in the morning, he didn’t want to hear she felt sorry for the assholes. Matt waved Ernie over and had him take written statements from Stevie, JC, and Marty. Stevie was on his feet and moving around, leaving Matt to believe maybe he didn’t need medical attention. His busted lip had bled down the front of his shirt, making him look worse than he was. By morning one eye would be swollen closed.

“Charles Ray, I see Will Brooking and Vince Bradley in your cruiser.” Matt stepped back to get a better angle on the two men in Ernie’s car, but he’d parked away from the overhead lights. “Who’s in Ernie’s back seat?”

Matt spent an occasional night riding with the guys on the late shift, but hadn’t worked with them since the first murder. He respected Charles Ray in spite of his nicotine breath. His matter of fact way of speech left no doubt as to his opinion. His crooked nose, and the small scar on his chin came from hand-to-hand combat in Nam. He was a pull-no-punches kind of guy you could count on in a fight despite his years.

“Harvey Coleman and Eric Hadley. You ready for us to haul their asses to lockup?”

“Any reason to believe they’ve been drinking?”

“Vince, maybe. But we didn’t test them.”

“Do it. Neither Marty nor Stevie will press charges. Public intoxication entitles Will and his posse an overnight stay in a cell. The judge can fine them first thing in the morning.”

“Cowardly bastards. Will’s a Vet. Made me ashamed of him. Grief doesn’t excuse his behavior.”

Yeah. Matt liked Charles Ray a lot.

****

Tuesday, August 29th, 4:30 a.m.

Catherine woke when Matt’s head hit the pillow, and he blew out a long exhale. He rolled over behind her, his warm, solid muscles fit against her body like a glove. She reached back, captured his arm, and pulled it across her body.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Matt whispered into her hair.

“I’m glad you’re home.” She tucked his hand under her breast and smiled into the darkness. His voice, thick and husky with exhaustion, touched her. Lying next to him, feeling his naked body relax, and his breathing level off, she couldn’t remember her heart ever being this full.

She snuggled down to get back to sleep, but for some reason Sylvia Horning and today’s noon news crossed her mind. Catherine understood better why Matt had been pressing her to be cautious. A shiver raced across her skin. Her eyes were the same color as the two dead women.

She wanted to go straight to the TV station and test her martial arts training.

Despite Ash’s efforts at humor, Matt had been tense at supper. He’d never admit it, but Sylvia had said some hurtful things. He didn’t deserve her snide remarks. She’d spewed enough venom to bring most grown men to their knees.

Catherine’s very own John Wayne, whose muscular chest now rose and fell in a steady rhythm behind her, stood tall and turned a deaf ear.

Chapter Nineteen

Wednesday, August 30th, 7:30 a.m.

Matt stretched out his arm in search of her warm body, but the sheets were cool on Catherine’s side of the bed. He rolled over and allowed himself the luxury of breathing in her scent on the pillow. Damn, he might never wash the sucker. He smothered his laugh in the soft cotton. Maybe Ash was right. What was it he’d said? That Matt needed to cool his jets where Catherine was concerned, because he was barreling down that dark and dangerous road called matrimony. Marriage hadn’t crossed his mind, but having her in his house to wake up to certainly was nice.

He slipped on a pair of jeans and followed the aroma of coffee to the kitchen. Catherine wore one of his T-shirts and stood with her back to him. Benedict Arnold lay at her feet while she stroked up and down his sorry hide with a bare foot. She reached up to get a cup from the shelf, and the curve of her bare bottom peeked out. The sight sent his blood rushing south. The view was too good not to pause and enjoy. Something funny happened to his heart while he watched her. A nice easy peace settled over him.

Catherine looked over her shoulder and caught him staring at her. “How do you do that?”

He had trouble finding his voice. “Do what?”

“Sneak up on me? I didn’t hear you get up.”

Matt stepped over the dog that grunted but didn’t move. He pulled the hair away from her neck and kissed the soft spot right behind her ear. She chuckled her low sexy rumble but moved away from him right before he turned her.

“Not so fast, cowboy. I’m already a few minutes late. Coffee’s ready, I set you a cup down, you’re on your own for breakfast.”

“If you’d brought a change of clothes, the trip home wouldn’t be necessary,” he called out as she rushed past him to dress. He fixed her a to-go cup in Emma’s mug—the one he’d failed to return—and carried it to her. “You’re sure you don’t want to shower before you go?”

She finished snapping her bra before she answered. “There’s nothing I’d like better. But we wouldn’t shower. Would we?”

“Probably not.” Matt parked in the chair and watched as she finished dressing. “You had another nightmare. Will you tell me about it?”

“It was nothing.”

“You kicked the covers to the floor. Last night’s was a rough one.”

“Everybody has bad dreams. Don’t you need to be going?”

“I’m willing to listen.” No response came. “Then I’ll head to the jail. Will Brooking and his citizens group are sitting in a cell.” He walked her to the car, pulled her in for one more kiss. She grabbed a handful of his hair and devoured his mouth.

“That’ll hold me for a while.” Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

Matt and the dog stood out of the way while gravel flew from under her tires and a puff of black smoke curled around her taillights.

Damn, he wished she’d let him inside the dark part of her mind, maybe he could help chase her demons away. Some bastard erased her ability to trust. Was her ex a cop? It would explain her fear and refusal to confide in Matt. He’d have to prove to her not all men were bastards. A feeling of helplessness returned. Last night, all he could do was hold her until the tremors passed.

****

Wednesday, Aug 30th, 8:30 a.m.

“Comfy?” Matt found Ash sitting at his desk going over paperwork. “Are those the deputy’s reports from last night?”

“Yeah. Not much happened after the fight except for a few routine traffic stops. You about ready to let Will and his gang go home?” Ash moved over to the other side of the desk and settled down with a groan.

Matt punched in Jake’s number and asked him to arrange for Will and his friends to get in front of the judge. He’d make them pay public intoxication fines and send them home. Matt was surprised none of them had called an attorney.

Ash stood and headed for the conference room, but stopped in the doorway. Matt had known Ash for a long time, and the troubled expression indicated something was on his mind. “What? Spit it out.” Matt prepared for another lecture on slowing down with Catherine.

“I want the personnel files on your men. Then I need to know if any of them recently went through a death in the family, a divorce, or bankruptcy, anything traumatic. And I prefer to talk with them individually.”

The hair on Matt’s arms sizzled as if he stood in an electrical storm. “You’re going down the wrong road.”

“I might be. You brought me up here and set me on this road. Now let me do my damn job.” Ash stuffed his hands in his pockets and didn’t blink. “I want to know if any of them had to replace their handcuffs. I’ll start with Jake.” He spun on his heel and left the room.

Ash’s insinuation the killer might be one of Matt’s men sent his gut spinning. The cuff theory had already crossed his mind, but he’d dismissed the idea. He spent a few minutes considering the request. His relationship with his men was important. They had to know he trusted them and had their backs. He understood Ash was taking the responsibility of questioning them on his shoulders. Ash could take the brunt of their anger and not have to worry about damaging any long-term relationships. He was, after all, leaving when the case was solved.

Sue brought in the two local newspapers and waited while Matt opened them to the front page. “If Sylvia Horning wasn’t furious with you she is now.”

“Did you read the articles?”

“I did. They’re good. I thought you were as open as you could be. I don’t suppose you’re in the mood to speak with Doc Reinhardt?”

“I’m in the perfect mood. I asked him to keep a few facts under wraps. The most important one is now part of the killer’s nickname. The leak came from his office. I’m sure of it.”

She handed Matt a homemade muffin. “Well, he’s holding for you.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“Let him sweat. He’s bound to know you’re P.O.’d.”

P.O.’d barely got in the ballpark, but he liked her idea. Let the doc wait. Matt explained Ash’s new project to Sue and finished his snack. She’d be the one to furnish the records and files Ash would need. She agreed clearing the department from all suspicion was a good idea. Maybe the men would be as okay with Ash questioning them as she was.

“I’m ready. Put the ME through.”

A second later the phone on his desk rang. He wouldn’t lose his temper. He’d keep his voice level and breathe normally. Maybe. Nothing he hated worse than a liar or someone he couldn’t trust. “Tell me who leaked the information and you fired that person.”

“It was unintentional, I assure you. No harm was meant.”

“That’s bullshit. Only a handful of people knew my theory about the green eyes. Or the fact the killer left them looking like a made-up doll.”

“I’m aware of that, Sheriff Ballard.” Reinhardt’s tone of voice carried the sound of a defeated politician.

That the doc referred to Matt by his title and not his name told the tale. Pieces fell together. Blood shot to his brain at supersonic speed. The ME had leaked the information. Matt’s pulse pounded, roared through his ears like a freight train. Shit, he’d pop a vein if he didn’t pull his anger back.

“If my theory is true, the killer knows I’ve figured out he’s singling out green-eyed women. And you helped glamorize him to boot.” Silence on the line poured fuel on Matt’s already raging temper.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? I trusted you. I don’t do that lightly.” Matt didn’t forgive lightly either.

“Sylvia tricked me into believing it was off the record.”

“Nothing’s off the record with that ambitious bitch. What’d you get out of it doc?” He rubbed his forehead. The blood vessel between his eyes was as big around as his finger, and the headache got worse. “No. Don’t tell me.” Whether it was money or the sixty-something-year-old fool got a blowjob, Matt didn’t want to know.

****

Wednesday, August 30th, noon

Matt and Jake exchanged glances while Ash wolfed down the noon plate-lunch special. The waitress must’ve dished the food up herself. The difference between the sizes of the portions hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jake. Ash had the lion’s share. Matt could’ve cared less. Still pissed over the leak, the thought of food put a knot in his belly.

Ash looked up, a fork loaded with mashed potatoes a half-inch away from his mouth. “She likes me. What can I say?”

“I’ll bet he leaves a trail of broken hearts when he goes back to Houston.” Jake stirred sugar substitute into his tea and spoke as if Ash weren’t sitting in the booth.

“Which is why I’m against Catherine introducing him to Susan King.” Matt wasn’t in the mood for joking, but he made a lame effort. He hadn’t told either man the source of the leak. He’d been too pissed to let Reinhardt explain what happened. Trust and your word, two things Matt expected people to stand behind.

Two cell phones buzzed at the same time. Jake’s gaze met Matt’s briefly before they both answered. Ash with his uncanny second sense pulled out his wallet, tossed cash on the table, and stood, waiting.

“Bad?” Ash fell in step beside Matt when the call was finished.

“Worse than bad. Jessie Bradley’s missing.”

“Bradley. Any relation to—?”

“Yeah. Vince. One of the men I locked up last night.” Matt finished the sentence as they sprinted out of the building to the courthouse parking lot. “Jake,” Matt called over the top of his cruiser. “Call Rey. Have him meet us at the Bradleys’.”

Matt flipped on the lights and along with a surge of adrenaline, rolled hot. He cast a glance in Ash’s direction, understanding the smile.

“Been a long time since we lit ’em up, partner,” Ash commented. “Feels good. Even under these circumstances.”

Matt nodded, which sufficed as an answer. He understood completely. The relationship between partners couldn’t be compared with normal coworkers. Cops lived and breathed their work, existed in and for that world. In Houston, their only friends had been in law enforcement or one of the many related branches. The camaraderie, the trust, the dependence on each other, formed a bond never to be broken. Not by family. Not by women. Especially not by death.

While on the road, Matt gave Ash a run down on Vince and Jessie to refresh his memory. Ash’s ability to capture and retain data made keeping him informed an easy task.

Jake followed Matt and Ash. The two cruisers slid to a stop, and the three men started up the walk. The door flew open and Vince ran straight toward them screaming. Like a flamethrower laying down napalm, his fiery gaze was aimed at Matt.

“You sonofabitch. This is your fault.”

Matt spread his feet and braced himself. He grabbed Vince before impact, spun him around, and laid him on the ground with his hands behind his back. The entire thing was one smooth motion and carefully done to not hurt the man.

“Nice,” Ash said, grinning like a proud papa. “You didn’t forget everything I taught you.”