by Destiny Ford
His lips slid into a sly grin. “If you’d wanted me to cause trouble, you should have said something. I could have caused a lot more.”
The girl at the counter called my name as every head in the room swiveled to look at me and Hawke. “I have no doubt about that,” I said, and walked to the counter for my food.
I sat back down and offered Hawke half of my sandwich and some fries. He took some of the food and leaned back in his seat with a smile. “Did you really tell everyone to go to hell?”
I shook my head. “I’ll never live that down.”
“It seems like a lot happened after I left the restaurant and before you got in my car.”
“Drake and I don’t always agree on things.”
Hawke stared at me. “You and I have something in common then.”
“How do you and Drake know each other anyway?” I asked, dipping a fry in my shake.
“We work in the same circles sometimes,” he said, smothering a fry in a Utah condiment staple: fry sauce, a mixture of mayonnaise and ketchup. “Drake doesn’t like my profession, and I think he’s a pretentious ass.”
“Speaking of your profession, what exactly do you do?”
He ran the tip of his tongue over his top lip. “Anything you want me to.” He took a bite of his half of the sandwich. Though his answer was vague, I had a feeling it was honest. “Drake was pretty mad when I decided to move to Branson Falls. I think part of me did it just to tick him off.”
“Sounds like something I’d do,” I said, putting a spoonful of cold, chocolate cookie shake in my mouth. Hawke watched me lick the spoon clean. When I finished, he locked eyes with me and reached over to gently take the spoon from my hand. He dipped the spoon in the shake, a heaping pile of ice cream weighing down the plastic. He lifted the spoon to his mouth and the tip of his tongue slid over the cold treat in circular motions. He shaped the outside of the ice cream lightly with his teeth and then swallowed, licking his lips. He finished the spoonful off with several long strokes of his tongue, all while keeping his eyes welded to mine.
My mouth fell open and I swallowed. Hard.
I noticed the restaurant had become eerily quiet. I wrenched my eyes away from Hawke’s and glanced around the room to see everyone staring. As soon as they noticed me watching them, they all turned back to their food. But it didn’t take long for them to get out their cell phones and start texting. I was sure the phone-tree would be busy for the rest of the day.
Hawke also noticed the flying fingers, and gave me his trademark naughty grin before continuing our conversation like he hadn’t just had a sexual experience with a spoon. “Were you able to find anything else out this morning?”
I pushed the image of the milkshake and Hawke’s tongue to the side of my mind and told him about my conversation with Drake the previous night. I also told him what the other representatives and senators had said regarding Governor Wallace.
“I don’t think we should rule the governor out,” Hawke said, “but I’m not sure he’s the guy we’re looking for either.”
“What about you?” I asked. “What have your “resources” told you the last couple of days?”
Hawke smiled and moved to get up from the booth. “There are a lot of ears here; walk with me?”
“Sure.” We’d finished the food, but I still had part of my shake. I threw the trash away and took the shake with me as we walked down Main Street.
“I read the autopsy.” I stopped walking and stared at him. I really didn’t think he’d be able to get it.
“Are you surprised?” he asked.
“To be honest,” I lifted a shoulder and cocked my head, “a little.”
“You shouldn’t doubt me, Kitty Kate; you’ll always be disappointed if you do.”
Interesting. I guess he really did do all the things he said he would. I filed that information in the front of my mind so I could easily access it the next time he said something overtly sexual. “What did the autopsy say?”
“The coroner listed the death as an accidental drowning.”
I nodded, swirling my shake in the cup before taking another bite. “Right, we knew that.”
“But, we didn’t know Chelsea also had blunt force trauma to her head.”
I stopped the spoon mid-way to my mouth and put it back in the cup. “What?”
Hawke took the cup from me, scooping up some ice cream for himself. “The autopsy listed the cause of death as drowning, but I’m friendly with the Coroner and he told me Chelsea had blunt force head trauma as well. However, people higher up in his department told him not to include it in the report.”
“Who asked him to leave that information off?”
Hawke lifted a shoulder. “He wouldn’t say, but I can think of a few people who wouldn’t want anything suspicious showing up on the coroner’s report.”
I nodded, thinking of a few people myself. “So how did she get the head trauma?” I asked. “And what really killed her, the head trauma, or the drowning?”
We walked a few paces while Hawke thought. “There was water in her lungs so she had to be breathing when she went into the lake, but the head trauma is definitely suspicious.” Hawke kept walking and thought some more.
“Did the report say when the head trauma happened? Was it close to Chelsea’s time of death?”
Hawke threw the shake cup into a trash can on the street corner and took a drink from the water fountain there. “Yes, it was.”
“So we’re looking for someone who hit her until she was unconscious and then dragged her into the lake?” I asked.
“Yep, that’s what it seems like.”
“We have suspects, motives, and even know how Chelsea was killed, but we still aren’t sure who did it, or why. We’re missing something.”
“We just have to keep searching.”
We’d walked up Main Street and were now in front of the Tribune office where Hawke’s Mustang was parked. “I’ll call you if I find anything else out,” I said.
Hawke hit the button on his keychain that disarmed his car alarm. “I’ll do the same.”
He got in and drove off.
I turned around to walk into the office and jumped, my heart racing. Ella was standing in the middle of the picture window, watching me like the ghost of a Golden Girl.
I pushed the Tribune door open. “Geez, Ella! You scared me to death. Why were you staring at me?”
“I wasn’t really starin’ at you. I was starin’ at Hawke. He’s as good lookin’ as Clark Gable!” I was pretty sure that was the first, and only time, I would ever hear Hawke compared to a 1930s actor. “I like the sporty, noisy car he drives too. I wish I had one.”
I snorted a laugh. “Ella, if you had a car like that, you’d have to spend every spare minute making key lime pies.”
She put her index finger to her lips, wrinkling her brow. “It’d be worth it.”
I laughed and started to walk back to my desk. Ella followed me. “What were you doing eating lunch with Hawke?”
I just stared at her.
“There’s a video message going around of him taking your spoon and eating your milkshake. From the video, it looks like he’s more interested in eating you.”
Of course some asshat took a video of that. Dammit! And it hadn’t been more than thirty minutes since it happened! I was just digging myself a deeper hole.
“I haven’t had a man look at me like that in at least twenty years,” Ella said with a wistful expression.
“Jay only died ten years ago, Ella,” I pointed out as I sat at my desk.
“I know,” she said. “If you decide to sleep with Hawke, you better give me all the details.”
“Right,” I smiled. “So you can pass those details along to The Ladies through your phone-tree?”
Ella looked incensed. “If you say it’s off the record, I won’t tell a soul. It’ll just be you and me who knows, like I’m the reporter and it’s locked in a safe.”
I laughed. “Okay, Ella. If a
nything ever happens with my sex life, I’ll keep you informed.”
She gave me a huge smile back. “I have to live vicariously through someone, you know.”
“Glad I can help.”
“Speakin’ of the phone-tree, you should know everyone’s sayin’ your wedding with Drake’s off because you’re sleeping with that criminal Hawke.”
I closed my eyes, pressing my fingers against my forehead as I took a few deep breaths. “Of course they are.”
“Don’t you worry though, I’ll set them straight.”
I was about to ask how she was going to do that—Ella’s story might end up being worse than the rumors going around—when Spence came out of his office. “Are you and Hawke planning dates every day now?”
“No,” I said. “I was just eating lunch and he stopped to talk to me about Chelsea’s autopsy.”
“Did you learn anything interesting?”
Yes. Lots of interesting things. Hadn’t Spence seen the video? But then I realized he was talking about Chelsea. “Yeah. We now know that Chelsea was hit in the head with something that caused blunt force trauma. It happened right before she died.”
“So, the hit knocked her unconscious, but the water is what killed her?”
“That’s what we’re thinking.”
Spence pursed his lips. “Hawke sure seems to be able to get a lot of information without a problem.”
I grinned. “He’s a pretty good friend for a reporter to have.”
Spence frowned. “Maybe. Maybe not. Be careful, Kate.”
By the time I was finished with the layout and leaned back in my chair to stretch, I looked at the clock and realized it was six-thirty. Within a few minutes, I got a call from my mom.
“Kate? Where are you? You’re supposed to be here for dinner. What are you doing? Did you get called away on a story? You’re still coming, right?”
There were way too many questions in that greeting to even attempt to answer, so I focused on the last one. “I lost track of time. I’m still at work, but I’ll be right there.” I shut my computer down and started to gather my things. “Is there anything you want me to bring?”
“No! Just get here!”
“Okay, okay!” Geez! What was the rush?
“And I heard about the corner booth,” she half-whispered, half-hissed into the phone, “and the milkshake! I thought we talked about this.” Great, I could only imagine what the story had morphed into by now. Just wait until she watched the video instead of only hearing about it.
“I’ll see you soon, Mom.”
Spence was walking out at the same time as me. “Thanks for staying late. I know you’ve been working like crazy on all of these stories.” He gave me a genuine smile. “I really appreciate it.”
I stared at him with an assessing eye.
He stared back, a nervous expression settling on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I smiled slowly, nodding my head. Spence would make an excellent corner booth / milkshake question deflector. My mom wouldn’t ask questions like that with a guest present. “You’re coming with me.”
“Where?”
“To my parents’ house.”
Spence followed me to the back yard where my dad had the fire going. “Hi, Dad,” I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
My dad looked from me to Spence as an amused smile flitted across his face. “Hi, honey,” he said, putting his hand out in Spence’s direction. “Spence, it’s good to see you.”
“You too, Damon. I don’t think I’ve talked to you since Sophie’s car rolled into the lake.”
My dad nodded, dropping another log on the fire. “She’s a scary woman to be married to.” He turned to me. “Kate, your mom’s in the house. I think she needs help bringing everything outside.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll help you,” Spence offered.
My dad put his hand on Spence’s shoulder. “They won’t be long,” he said, directing Spence to the garage. “And this way I can show you my new project.”
Spence followed my dad around the side of the house. I walked over the red and orange flagstone patio and opened the French doors. Hot dog buns, condiments, and chips were on the table. My mom was in the kitchen mixing some Sprite-spiked fruit punch—Utah’s version of a mixed drink. “Kate! You’re finally here,” she said with more enthusiasm than usual.
“What can I help you with, Mom?”
“You can start taking the food out to the patio table.”
“Okay.” I looked down and noticed four plates and glasses. She must have seen Spence outside with me and added the extra dishes already. “Thanks for getting a dish for Spence.”
My mom stopped stirring abruptly and looked up. “Who?”
“Spence,” I said, addressing her blank stare. “From the Tribune. You know, my boss.”
My mom’s face fell as she turned a shade of ghostly white. “You asked Spence to come with you to dinner?”
“Yeah. He’s in the garage with Dad. We were working late. Neither of us had eaten, so I decided to bring him along. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”
My mom pursed her lips and I could see the anger building on her face. She clutched the towel hanging over her shoulder, and put her hands on the granite countertop to steady herself. “Kate! What’s going on?” she asked in an angry whisper. “First I hear you’re dating Dylan and making out and fighting with him in the corner booth of the Mexican restaurant. Then I find out some mysterious guy named Hawke has been seen at your house and there’s this . . . this . . . porno video with the two of you eating a milkshake. And now you bring Spence to dinner?” Her breath was coming in gasps and I thought she might hyperventilate.
She burns down a field, destroys a truck, kills a cow, and crashes her rental car, yet she’s as calm as a yogi. But I spend time with a few guys, and that’s what she chooses to get upset about?
“Mom, calm down! You’re overreacting.”
“You’re going to get a reputation, Kate! It’s one thing to date one man, but dating three? People are going to say you’re a . . . a . . . hussy!”
I burst out laughing. The only time I’d ever heard the word ‘hussy’ was when my mom and dad used to make me watch old western movies with them.
She hit me with her shoulder towel. “This is NOT a laughing matter.”
“Mom! Stop!” I put my hands up trying to shield myself from the towel lashing. “I’m not sleeping with any of them.”
She stopped and stared at me. “Kate Violet Saxee! Don’t you lie to your mother.”
I also couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard anyone use my full name. I felt like I was five again. “I’m not lying! I think Drake and Hawke both kind of like me—or something—but I’m not sleeping with either of them. I’m not even dating them! As for Spence . . . trust me, I’m not his type. He’s my boss. That’s all.”
“What about The Ladies? They all think you’re dating Dylan.”
“I told you not to listen to The Ladies, or any rumors for that matter. I told you Drake was helping me with a story. That’s it.”
Mom suddenly bit her lip, worry lines forming on her forehead and at the corners of her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Mom hedged, her eyes growing softer and more concerned.
I narrowed my eyes. I knew that look from her. “What did you do, Mom?”
“Oh,” she slapped the towel down on the counter, a gesture that let me know just how bad it was. The towel rarely left her shoulder if she was in the house. “I thought you really were dating Drake, so I invited him to dinner.”
I clenched and unclenched my jaw. “You did what?” I asked through my teeth.
“In my defense, you weren’t very convincing when you said you weren’t dating him. As soon as I mentioned condoms you turned as red as a beet.”
I fought to keep myself from screaming. “Because it was the first time you’d ever discussed my sex
life with me!”
She looked down at the counter, absently brushing off non-existent crumbs. “Well, he’ll be here any minute.”
“Great. Just perfect,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “Drake is the last person I want to see right now. We got in a huge fight last night. I don’t want to deal with him.”
“That’s what Mrs. Johns said, but I didn’t believe her. What were you fighting about?”
I stalked around the room trying to figure out what to do. “Stupid shit, that’s what.” I could see my mom’s jaw tighten. She was fairly liberal but she hated swearing, which made it difficult to talk to her since I’d become a doctorate level profanity user in college. “He doesn’t agree with some of the investigations I’m doing for a story I’m working on. He thinks I’m going in the “wrong direction” and doesn’t like the people I’m working with. It’s none of his business.”
Mom leaned against the counter. “I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t know all of this was going on. I shouldn’t have invited him.”
I took a few deep breaths to calm down. “It’s fine. I’ll get through it. It’s just an hour or so, right? I can handle it.” I was trying to convince myself more than my mom.
She smiled and was about to say something else when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” she said.
I swore some more and took another plate and glass from the cabinet.
It didn’t take long before Drake strutted into the kitchen. “Hello, Katie.”
I looked at him as I grabbed some napkins. It was the first time I’d seen him in jeans and a tee shirt since high school. The clothes fit him in all the right places. I took a deep breath, determined not to let my hormones override my anger. “Drake,” I said in acknowledgment as I looked past him for my mom. She got me into this mess, she better be here to offer small talk. She wasn’t. “Where’s my mom?”
Drake folded his arms over his chest. “In the garage talking with your dad—and Spence.”
