by Vanessa Vale
“We didn’t talk about her sex life.”
“What do you think?”
I shrugged. “Back in high school, her parents would get on her for guys she dated. Doing high school stuff like a movie or a dance. They pretty much vetoed every guy as not good enough. As you can imagine, she didn’t like that. What teenager did? So she adapted to that, never got serious enough for her parents to get involved. Also steered clear of high school boys. Moved onto older ones.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “These days, from what I can tell, she hung out. Fooled around. Did the casual thing. You could call them one-night stands, I guess.”
“It’s been said that you and Erin had a fight.”
I stared at her wide-eyed. Her topic switches were giving me whiplash.
“The other night?”
She opened a folder she’d set to the side, slid it in front of her and read something on the top page. “At The Gallows. Last week.”
The Gallows was a bar downtown. It was popular with locals, had good food and a happening ladies’ night. I’d been once with Erin, but I had only been there as her wingman, but obviously we’d been noticed.
“Yeah. We got into an argument about taking the Eddie Nickel account. Organizing events for the movie launch. It was a big deal. Big money. Erin wanted it because it would get the business name out there, to Hollywood.”
“You didn’t want that contract?” she asked.
“I did, but Erin and I, we have… had, different ways of thinking about some things.”
“Like what?”
I gave a little laugh. “Money. She had it. Lots of it. While she was trying to make the business a success, I think it was just a pastime for her. She didn’t have to work. I don’t have money. You know that, I’m sure from your investigating. I need to have a job, need a paycheck to pay the bills. To cover some of my mom’s expenses.”
“I’d think the Nickel’s account would be great for you then,” she replied.
“If it worked out, yes. The money would have been great and the connections would have really pushed the business. But if it failed, if the contract fell through, then we’d be out of clients. It was her plan to have that be our only client. She didn’t do anything small, including arguments.”
“But Saturday night, before Erin was murdered, you were working a wedding the company planned. The last time you saw Erin?”
“Yes, even though we were ramping up work for the Nickel’s movie, that event had been on the books for months, well before I returned. A baby shower, too, which fell through this morning.” I thought of the phone call, frowned. “Erin had a cushion of cash to take big risks. I didn’t. We fought about that because I moved back here to work with her, and if it fell through…”
“Then you’d be out everything.”
“Exactly. In all the time we’ve been friends, she never once made me feel bad for having less, but she also didn’t understand.”
She looked at me pointedly. “Keith Mills said you were friends with Erin for her money.”
Wow, that hurt. Even though I knew that’s what he thought to be true.
“I’ve known that since the seventh grade when he told me that to my thirteen-year-old face.”
“Oh?”
I flushed hotly. “I’d been invited with a bunch of other girls to a sleepover at Erin’s. I got my period. First time.” I flicked my gaze to Nix. “Ruined my jeans.”
Fortunately, being a woman, she understood. I wasn’t too thrilled to share the story with Nix listening in.
“Erin had been cool, lending me a pair of her pants to wear. Mr. Mills noticed I was wearing her hundred-dollar bejeweled sweatpants and accused me of using her to get better clothes. I was crushed and left instead of spending the night. That was the first time he made his feelings known.”
After all these years, knowing Mr. Mills still felt that way, that he’d told that to the police…
“In college, I dated Lucas Mills for a few months. Erin’s brother,” I added, even though she probably already knew. Based on her questions—and the fact that she wasn’t familiar—I didn’t think the detective had grown up in Cutthroat. “We did dinner, movies, the usual stuff.”
“And his parents didn’t like it?”
I frowned, remembering. “He was twenty at the time and wasn’t living at home. His parents didn’t find out right away. We ran into them one night at a restaurant. Mrs. Mills pulled me aside, called me trash. Said it was fine for her son to sow his oats with someone like me.” I used the little air quotes. “But he’d settle down with someone better.” I huffed out a laugh. “He was young and I doubt he was looking to settle down with me or anyone else. He left for the military shortly after that. While we hadn’t really broken up, we just… stopped. He stayed away for a few years. Got deployed. He’s not like his parents at all.”
“I see,” Miranski replied neutrally.
“Do I need to tell you more stories?” I asked.
She held up her hand. “Nope. Got the idea. Keith and Ellen Mills don’t like you.”
I offered a fake smile. “Pretty much.”
“Would Erin hire you just to make her parents mad?”
I stiffened, because it was definitely something she’d do. “She is… was twenty-six. I have no doubt she did things to snub her parents, and maybe having me work with her to mess with them was a side benefit. But that’s going a little far, even for her.”
I took a deep breath, set my hands on the table.
“Erin was the face of the company. She could sell ice to an Eskimo. What she couldn’t do was organize. That was where I come in. I’d say I’m a little OCD, liking things in the right place, which is great for an event planning business.”
The detective looked thoughtful for a moment. “If Mills Moments is shut down, what will you do now?”
I shrugged again, glanced up at Nix. “I’m going to go see if I can get my waitressing job back. Am I all done here?”
“For now,” she replied, standing.
I stood as well, tucked my hair behind my ear.
“You’d have arrested me if you thought I did it, right?”
Nix pushed off the wall. “If we had evidence that proved you did it, we’d arrest you.”
I frowned at his statement. “You think I did it but can’t prove it?”
God, I’d slept with Nix and he’d thought I’d killed Erin?
“Nix didn’t say that,” Detective Miranski replied. “We’re working all angles right now. So you’re aware, a judge has signed search warrants for your phone and bank records and the crime scene team went through your bedroom at Erin’s house yesterday.”
I had nothing to hide. They’d find that out soon enough, but I had no doubt they would look. Hard. I barely had cash in my bank and my phone was a pay-as-you-go plan and I didn’t use it much. Intentionally. As for my bedroom. I’d felt funny knowing Nix grabbed underwear for me. But crime scene techs pawing through it, or… god, my bedside drawer with my vibrator—”
I flushed just thinking about them finding it. I felt… violated. Judged. Like I was bad again. Trash. “I can’t be the only one you’re looking into.” I couldn’t be the only person whose panties were pawed over.
“No. We’re working—”
“All angles,” I finished for her, holding up my hand. “Got it.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Nix said, going to the door and opening it.
He followed behind me, through the station and with a hand on my elbow, stopped me in the hall front of the vending machines. Once I turned to look up at him, his hand fell away.
“You’re not the only person of interest, Kit,” he told me, tipping his voice low even though there was no one in the hall with us and the sounds of a busy station echoed off the utilitarian walls. “We’ve got warrants for Erin’s parents’ phone and bank records. Her brother, too. We’re looking at boyfriends, who she called, her credit cards. Everything. Okay?”
He offered probably more than he
should.
“Okay.”
As we headed to the front entrance, a man’s shouting couldn’t be missed. “Why is my bank calling me? My daughter was murdered and you’re digging through my financials? What the hell is wrong here? You should be looking for the killer!”
Keith Mills’ voice was easily recognizable. So was his anger. We came around the corner and I saw Mr. Mills. The policeman at the front desk stood, hands tucked into his utility belt, unfazed. “Sir, calm down.”
He looked the same as always, perpetually tan, perfectly groomed salt-and-pepper hair, pressed khakis and a blue golf shirt. The only thing that ever changed in his appearance was the shirt’s color.
“My daughter was murdered and you want me to calm down?” Then he saw me and his face shifted from anger to disdain. “Well, well. Kit Lancaster.” He looked me over as if I were still wearing Erin’s borrowed sweatpants from seventh grade. “Why aren’t you behind bars?”
I froze, all the hateful things he’d said to me over the years coming back. But wanting me in jail? It was a new low.
Mr. Mills glanced over my shoulder at Nix. “My life’s being picked apart and the woman who was in the house when Erin was murdered is walking around scot-free?”
Veins stuck out at his temples and spittle flew as he pointed at me.
With a hand at the small of my back, Nix urged me into motion. “I’m walking Miss Lancaster to her car. When I return, I’ll talk with you about the case. But only if you calm down.”
Mr. Mills sputtered as we walked away, Nix’s pace quickened, and I was outside and across the parking lot to my car within a minute. I realized that Nix hadn’t contradicted Mr. Mills or stood up for me.
“Do you think I killed Erin?” I whispered, suddenly weary. The lack of sleep was catching up with me. My emotions were like a rollercoaster.
“What?” His eyes widened. “No.”
“Then why didn’t you say that? Why didn’t you have my back in there?” I thought of the night before, being held in his arms. Holding me after my nightmare. God, I’d practically climbed him like a monkey after, desperate for him.
“With Keith Mills? Because I have to remain impartial.”
“Impartial?” I snapped. “He pretty much said I did it. And you didn’t tell him otherwise.”
He leaned forward so he could look me in the eye. “I want to go back in there and rip the asshole’s head off.” He stuck his arm out and pointed toward the station. “After what you said to Miranski about him, you think I liked letting him say that shit about you? Knowing he’s been doing it for years?” He raked his hand through his hair, his eyes filled with rage. “Punching a murder victim’s father in the face isn’t in my job description, Kit. In order to find Erin’s killer, I have to put up with guys like Mills. I’m just mad you do, too.”
“What about during the questioning? You barely said a word.”
His hand slid over his hair in obvious frustration. I’d held those silky strands between my fingers as he fucked me. “Because we were on record. Because what I said in front of Miranski is true. If we had evidence that proved you killed Erin, you would be in jail.”
I paused, waited for him to say more. “But…”
“But you didn’t fucking do it, therefore you’re free to go.” He took a step closer, all that dark intensity shifting to need. “Free to be in my bed.”
“Nix,” I murmured, checking out the embroidered police logo on his pec. I couldn’t look him in the eye. “I can’t do this hot and cold thing. I was in your bed all night and now you pretend you barely know me.”
“That’s right. Pretend. No one can know we’re together.”
That hurt. A lot. If they meant forever, then they should want to show me off, not hide me like a dark secret. But it wasn’t about what they wanted. It was about their jobs.
“Mr. Mills would lose his shit.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up, barely, but it wasn’t that much of a joke. It was actually true.
“The case could be compromised.” Yeah, that, too. What he didn’t say was their jobs would probably be at stake, too. I didn’t like the feel of that, the weight of that on our relationship. Their careers were at risk because of me.
“I want to kiss you,” he said, but didn’t step close to do so. He had about four feet between us, far enough to keep anyone who might look our way from thinking we were anything more than detective and witness.
“What about your job?” I asked, voicing aloud what I’d been thinking.
“I’ll worry about that. So… later?” He said that last word with so much intent, I knew it meant getting naked and screaming his name.
He growled and stepped close, set his hand on the roof of my car, penning me in. I loved the dominance of the moment. He didn’t have to say anything for me to know he wanted me and wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.
“Nix,” I whispered, looking around. Standing like this wasn’t a good thing. What if Mr. Mills saw us? Nix might say he would worry about his job, but I worried. I wasn’t worth losing all he’d worked for.
“Later,” he repeated, this time not as a question. I took a deep breath, picked up his clean scent. I recognized the smell of his soap since I had it on me, too.
I nodded because I had a feeling he wouldn’t step back until I agreed.
“I can’t call you,” he said, pushing off the car and stepping back. “As I said, your phone records are being reviewed.”
“Right,” I replied, remembering what Donovan had said earlier. I dug my keys from my purse, turned to my car. I wasn’t sure if my hand was shaking because of his dominance or the reminder I was still a suspect. Reality was sinking in. My friend had been murdered. I was under investigation. If my pussy wasn’t a little sore, I’d have wondered if last night had actually happened.
“What are you going to do now?”
That was the question of the day. I glanced over my shoulder at him. I couldn’t believe a guy so hot was into me. I glanced at his hands, remembered what he could do with them. How gentle he could be. How skilled those fingers were. And I knew what was beneath that jeans and shirt. Knew every sinewy plane, every inch of his huge dick. Still, us being together was a dirty little secret. One that could blow the case, his career. Donovan’s too.
Was I as Mr. Mills had said? Trash? Was I ruining two men’s lives for a wild time? The night before, they’d said forever. But that was when I was naked. When faced with losing everything, was I worth it? I couldn’t rely on them. I trusted them, believed what they said, but couldn’t hold them to it. I needed to be able to stand on my own two feet, to support myself and my mom. I needed a paycheck.
“Eddie Nickel ended the big contract and the baby shower that was the only remaining client wants nothing to do with me.” I kicked a pebble on the pavement. “I’m headed to the diner to beg for my old job back.”
8
DONOVAN
“You wanted to see me?”
My father looked up from his desk, smiled. “Donnie. Come and sit.”
He extended his hand to indicate the chairs that faced him. He didn’t stand, didn’t give me a hug. We didn’t have that kind of relationship. Oh, I’d gotten manly slaps on the back and got the usual Donnie, which made me inwardly cringe. He’d said he was proud of me often enough. But not to me, Donovan Nash, but the prosecutor for Cutthroat County. I’d ensured some bad people were off the streets and he’d been pleased with my stats. I kept Cutthroat safe and that helped keep him mayor.
And who could be more satisfied with that than Anthony Nash, mayor?
Yeah, the fucking mayor.
He was sixty-two and had no plans to retire, unless he got voted out of office.
“What’s the latest on the Erin Mills’ murder?” he asked as I dropped into a chair.
I knew this was why he’d asked for me to take the elevator to the third floor of the city building that housed his office as well as the DA. Small time drug dealers and wife
beaters didn’t affect his chances for reelection like a murder of the town’s “It Girl” and daughter of his biggest campaign contributor.
He didn’t give a shit that my summer softball league won the championship or that I’d bought a new car. He would care about Kit, but for all the wrong reasons.
“You’d have to ask the detectives about that. It hasn’t hit our office yet.”
He pursed his lips. People said we looked alike. His fair hair was mostly gray now, but he hadn’t lost any of it, which boded well for me. He kept active, in the summer playing golf and the winter skiing on the slopes of Cutthroat Mountain, and it showed. He hadn’t married again after Mom died, but I knew he’d been casually seeing Angela Martin on the side. Had been for years. Another thing we didn’t talk about.
“You’ll be trying the case,” he commented, resting his elbows on the arms of his high-back chair and steepling his fingers together. “I’m surprised Nix didn’t give you the latest over a beer or something.”
I didn’t answer. Instead of sharing a beer the night before, we’d shared Kit. Fucking her was much more fun than talking about the case.
He sighed, leaned forward and rested his forearms on his desk. “I’ve heard they’re looking into the Mills family, men Erin may have dated, Erin’s roommate, the house cleaners and even neighbors.”
I nodded. “Autopsy is this morning. It all sounds like standard procedure,” I replied, picking up a glass paperweight and tossing it from hand to hand.
“This shouldn’t be standard procedure,” he countered. “We need this killer found. And fast.”
I stopped the juggling and looked at him. “Why? Because the election’s in a few months?”
His jaw clenched. “It’s not only my career on the line.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “The District Attorney’s going to want the killer behind bars just as much as I do. That falls to your shoulders.”
“Meaning don’t fuck this up.” While the DA was in charge of the office and dealt with politics, like meetings with my father, I dealt with the actual cases, did the time in the courtroom. If things went south, it was on me.
