For Love of Money

by Cathy Perkins

  “Holly?” JC’s voice intruded.

  She blinked and discovered the cops were all staring at her. An eerie calm settled over her, even as her body continued to shake with reaction.

  “What do you remember?” he asked.

  She sucked in a deep breath and tried to keep her voice steady. She was not going to let them treat her like an hysterical female. “I was waiting for you to catch up with me. The car pulled over to the side of the road. It didn’t stop, just slowed down. The lights were bright—my eyes were adjusted to the dark—so I put up my hand to shield them. I noticed the passenger window was down, because who drives around this time of year with the window open?”

  “Are you sure?” another patrol officer asked. He looked at JC for confirmation.

  JC nodded and lifted his arm, miming the shooter’s probable actions. “That’s why there were only three shots. The driver shot through the open window.”

  He pointed his arm. “Bang.”

  He moved halfway through the shallow arc. “Bang.”

  He swept through the rest of the turn. “Bang. If it had been someone sitting in the passenger seat, they’d have had their arm out the window. They’d have kept shooting even after they passed us. The driver couldn’t risk putting a bullet hole in his own car. It’s hell to explain those later.”

  She ran the movie in her head. Two converging figures on the bike path. The moving vehicle approaching. It was a math problem. She stifled the urge to giggle. If a car leaves the park and travels north at forty miles per hour and the walkers go south at three miles per hour, how many bullets can the driver shoot as he passes?

  Three.

  Her hands shook as the reality of the situation met up with her imagination.

  “We’re never going to find the slugs,” one of the patrol officers said. He swung a flashlight over the tumbled heaps of cracked basalt and granite, sage clumps and tumbleweeds that littered the acreage beyond the bike path. “Not without a metal detector.”

  “Could be worse.” A sudden smile quirked JC’s lips. His dimples flashed and Holly’s heart did an irreverent pitty-pat.

  “Another five minutes and we’d have been by the irrigation canal. When you’re crawling all over that field, just remind yourself you could be up to your ass in duck crap and rotting cattails.”

  The cop looked as though he would’ve said something if the sergeant weren’t standing right there. One of the other guys coughed, as if covering a laugh. The captain—when had he finally shown up? —said, “Let’s remember we’re dealing with an attempted homicide here.”

  Holly’s breath stopped. Attempted homicide.

  Attempted murder.

  Her stomach felt sick and her knees seemed wobbly all of a sudden. The reality she was trying to avoid hit her upside of the head with the subtlety of a baseball bat. She could be dead right now.

  She was alive only because someone hadn’t wanted to shoot holes in their car.

  “Holly?” JC had hold of her arm. “Let’s go to the car and sit down.”

  She meant to shake her head—she wasn’t sure she could walk—but he practically lifted her off her feet. The next thing she knew, she was in the backseat of the 4x4. The sergeant had left it running with the heat going full blast. At least that’s what she told herself when she felt sweat bead along her hairline. It was too warm in the car. She couldn’t catch her breath.

  “Put your head between your knees.” JC sat beside her, gripping her neck. He nudged her forward. “The windows are tinted. No one can see.”

  Her body folded over and she sucked in air until the spinning stopped. His hand stroked her back. She’d just started to relax when she heard the front-door latch click. JC’s hand retracted and the door opened. Bright light flooded the interior.

  Holly squinched her eyes closed.

  “She okay?” The captain peered over the front seat.

  If there was one thing she hated—almost as much as being shot at—it was people talking about her as if she weren’t present. She sat up. “I’m fine.”

  The captain studied her a moment, then nodded. “This is what we’re going to do. Officer Mittemayer is going to take Detective Dimitrak’s statement, then he’ll drop the detective at Bookwalter so he can get his car.”

  Holly could already foresee the guy’s first question: Why were you walking instead of in JC’s car?

  “You’ll go to the station, where we’ll take your statement. Detective Dimitrak said he’d make sure you get home safely. We’ll increase the patrol through Hills West tonight, move the floater to that sector to double the coverage, but if you’d prefer to stay with a friend, I’m sure the detective will take you there.”

  The lengthy session Thursday night at the Pasco police station scrolled through Holly’s memory. If she went to the station, it would be hours before they let her go. “Can’t I give you my statement here?”

  The captain twisted his mouth, as if he were actually thinking about it, then he shook his head. “There’ll be things we need to check.”

  “I can’t tell you much.” A brilliant idea occurred to her. “JC was probably the target. Some bad guy he arrested looking for revenge.”

  JC shifted on the seat beside her, but she ignored him.

  The captain looked grim, the way only a policeman can. “We’ve already considered that possibility.”

  “And dismissed it,” Holly finished the sentence for him. With the week she was having, of course she was the automatic suspect.

  Victim suspect.

  At least it wasn’t suspect, suspect.

  Damn. She sank against the seatback. A wildly irrational impression of skanky criminals occupying the seat rocketed her away from the vinyl. A shudder shimmied across her shoulders.

  “This vehicle isn’t used for transporting people in custody,” JC said, reading her mind.

  One of the patrol officers approached the 4x4. “That’s my ride,” JC told her.

  She nodded. “I’ll be fine,” she said, reading his. Maybe if she kept saying it, she could make it be true.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said softly. With his back to the other officers, his eyes caressed her the way he obviously felt he couldn’t physically. “I’ll be right behind you. I know you’re exhausted. I won’t let them keep you all night.”

  She wanted to touch him, to stroke his cheek and thank him for his thoughtfulness, for protecting her. Captain Blake clearly wasn’t going to give them that kind of personal time.

  “A word of advice.”

  She gave JC a startled glance. “What?”

  “Don’t hit anybody if they ask a question you don’t like.” He winked, breaking the spell. He popped open his door as the sergeant took his position behind the wheel. “Cops hate it when you hit them.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said before both doors clicked shut. The dome light extinguished, leaving only the flashing lights of the crime scene unit vehicles. With a sigh, Holly collapsed against the still-suspect backseat.

  Criminal cooties were the least of her worries right now.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Hours later, Holly trailed JC out of the police station, so tired she could barely put one foot in front of the other. Captain Blake, a patrol officer, and some guy who looked like he’d been dragged out of bed and wasn’t happy about it had made her go over her story about fifty times. They’d asked her the same question about a dozen ways.

  Any idea who might want to shoot you? No.

  Any idea who might be upset with you? No.

  As if asking a different way might make her give them a different answer.

  Have you done anything to get someone upset? Well, duh? Apparently.

  Any idea who that might be? No.

  Of course, she’d told them about Frank, although she couldn’t quite believe he’d shoot at her. She’d asked about the paper Frank had given her, pointing out the two dark-colored SUVs. To her surprise, they’d actually told her it was a license p
late number, registered to a Stevens Ventures vehicle. A truck Tim Stevens had reported missing.

  The “Tim” connection had stunned her, but… Tim and Alex, she’d tap-danced a little there, not sure how much she could or should say about the fraud. But she told the policemen she suspected the pair might be doing something illegal. They could get a warrant and look at the records themselves. She’d even brought up Lee Alders and the ice-climbing episode.

  JC walked beside her now. If she had the energy, she’d glare at him. He looked entirely too wide awake, which meant he probably took a nap while she answered endless questions.

  He opened the passenger door to his car for her, grasped her elbow while she heaved herself into the seat, then walked around to the driver’s side. Somehow she wasn’t surprised by the car—a Bronco—or the color—bright red. Still, she wasn’t so tired she didn’t notice the courtesy. When was the last time she’d seen someone open the passenger door for a woman? And why had she let him? She was capable of getting into the car under her own power.

  Still, having someone take care of her was kinda nice. Not that she needed anyone taking care of her.

  JC started the car. “You okay?”

  “Let’s see.” She ticked the items off on her fingers. “In the past week, I’ve found a dead person, who turned out to be someone I knew, been trampled at a wake, nearly run over in a parking lot, practically flattened by an 18-wheeler, shot at, tackled by a cute cop, and questioned for more hours than I can count by various guys in assorted uniforms. Yeah, overall, I’d say I was great.”

  “A cute cop tackled you, huh?”

  “I knew you’d focus on the critical element.”

  His dimples showed in the light from the dash, but she was too tired to react.

  “Detectives notice details like that.”

  Her answer was a jaw-popping yawn.

  The gate for the restricted parking area behind the police station opened. He turned left onto Jadwin, then made a quick right. Figuring his car was probably free of criminal cooties, she sagged against the headrest and wondered if a five-minute nap would make her feel better or worse.

  A few silent blocks later, JC pulled to the side of the road.

  She tensed. Oh, no. She didn’t want to discuss the kiss or anything else that might require more than three brain cells.

  “I know this isn’t the best time or place, but I need to tell you a few things.”

  She fought the urge to lie down on the seat and howl. He wanted to Talk About It. Which “it” didn’t matter—the lecture about personal safety, questions about the psycho who apparently was stalking her, or the meaningless nature of that earth-shattering kiss.

  Should she look at him or stare out the windshield? What if he wanted to apologize? What if he regretting kissing her? How embarrassing would that be? Especially after she’d slipped up and called him “cute”?

  She stifled a groan. “Okay.”

  He took a deep breath, and flexed his hands over the steering wheel. “The Richland officers think we’re dating. It looked like I was walking you home and we were a little…rumpled…when they showed up. I told them we were just friends, but them thinking you’re my girlfriend actually might be to your advantage.”

  This wasn’t what she was expecting. In fact, this wasn’t so bad. She turned her head and cocked an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

  He smiled and his dimples did their thing. Man, she liked those little dents even when she was dead tired.

  “Cops tend to take care of each other. And Holly?”

  “Yeah?”

  He turned to face her. “I’d like it if you’d think about that.”

  She gave him a puzzled look. Okay, the local police would look out for her more vigilantly if they thought she was involved with him. She could handle that. Especially since he was actually telling her about it up front.

  Wait a minute. The mental light blinked on. Was he asking her to be his girlfriend? That sounded like a middle-school kid, not the confident detective she kept tripping over. Although right now, he didn’t look especially confident.

  He reached across the console and took her hand. Gently, he stroked the bandage covering her palm, slowly drew his fingers to the tips of hers. The contact cut through her fatigue and confusion and shot sparks up her arm. He took a deep breath. “I screwed up the first time we were together. We’ve both grown up and changed since then. Seeing you this week…”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the small patch of bare skin.

  Her heart did a stutter-step. Was he…serious?

  “That kiss tonight.” He toyed with her fingers. “You’re the first woman I’ve wanted to kiss since…since I got divorced. I don’t know how you feel about it, and I wasn’t sure how I felt to tell you the truth, except I was thinking about it while I was waiting for you to finish your statement and I’d love to do it again. If you want to, that is.”

  Huh?

  Her gaze moved from their intertwined hands—interesting that her brain hadn’t sent “retract” signals down her arm—to his face. She couldn’t be sure since the only light in the car came from the dashboard instruments, but she could’ve sworn he was blushing.

  Who are you and what have you done with arrogant, cocky JC Dimitrak?

  “Are you asking me out? Or just asking if I want to have sex?”

  His mouth opened, but no words emerged. He swallowed and tried again. “It sounded a lot better when I was practicing.”

  He rehearsed that? She had a mental flash of him trying out various phrases, but couldn’t see it. “Practicing?”

  “I haven’t had much—shit, this is humiliating.” He snatched back his hand, jerked the car into drive, and with a chirp of tires, accelerated away from the curb.

  “JC.” She reached across the console and laid her hand on his arm. “I can’t believe you aren’t fighting off women every day, but I think I’m okay with being your girlfriend. We could try that. And we might end up having sex, but when we do, I want it to be making love. So tonight’s probably not a good idea.”

  He turned beside the high school, then clasped her hand and pulled it to rest on his thigh. He smiled and cut his eyes toward her. She could read the expression in them. Forget that college stuff. If the current preliminaries were any indication, they were going to really, really enjoy it when they did. His fingers caressed her hand and the tingling spread to other sensitive body parts. Apparently, her body wasn’t as tired as her brain insisted.

  JC powered onto the interstate, crossed the Yakima River, and took the Queensgate exit.

  She turned over his oblique offer. It was far more interesting than the other things she could be obsessing over. She didn’t want to deal with the shooting right now. Peeking at him from the corner of her eye, she found his attention on the road. His gaze alternated between the mirrors and the pavement ahead.

  Just because she was scared and JC rescued her wasn’t a good reason to jump into bed with him. But if he could make her melt from the things he was doing to her hand, imagine what he could do with the rest of her body.

  She sat up straight. Whoa, woman. Get a grip.

  JC rotated his hand against the steering wheel and glanced at his watch. “I’m only going to get a couple hours’ sleep. It’s barely worth going to bed.”

  Who was going to sleep? Between the gunshots, his girlfriend offer, and that kiss, she didn’t foresee peaceful slumber. But if his comment was fishing for an invitation to spend the night, she still wasn’t sure it was a great idea. “Turn right here.”

  He flicked on the turn signal. “What are you going to do tomorrow…later today?”

  Who bothered with turn signals when there wasn’t another moving car in the whole neighborhood? “You mean you aren’t going to tell me to stay home?”

  “I’ve learned the futility of issuing that stellar bit of advice.”

  “Glad to see you’re so flexible.” Another yawn nearly split her face in two. “I hav
e to go to the office for a while. You going to show up there, too?”

  “Too?”

  “Well, you have made it kind of a habit this week.”

  “Oh, really?” He drove up the hill in front of her house. “What have I made a habit of doing?” He parked in her driveway.

  “Following me.” She opened her door and stepped out.

  He got out and rounded the hood. “You make me sound like a stalker.”

  She dug in her purse for her keys. “So your turning up everywhere I went this week was mere coincidence?”

  He dropped his arm around her shoulders. They moved up the path to her porch. His scent and warmth bypassed her brain and detonated her female parts. She wanted to wrap her arms—and legs—around him.

  “I hate to pop your bubble, sweet cheeks, but Monday was work. Tuesday—the wake—was work, and so was Wednesday at Stevens’s office. Thursday, the Pasco guys called me.”

  “Sweet cheeks?” She noticed he’d left Friday’s argument—and revelations—out of the summary. “Let’s not forget that flag you put on my driver’s license.”

  She unlocked the door and turned to face him. Silently, she argued with her conscience about inviting him inside.

  He pulled her close. “Are you going to be okay staying here on your own?”

  “It’s three o’clock in the morning. Where else am I going to go? I refuse to wake up my friends at this hour, and a hotel seems pointless.”

  “If you decide to stay here, I’ll ask both the Benton County deputies and the Richland guys to keep an eye on you,” he began.

  She tensed. Don’t get mad. Talk to him. “You know that Frank making those kinds of decisions was part of my problem with him.” She looked up into his eyes and quickly added, “I know you’re not like him. You’re trying to protect me, which I really appreciate. Frank used his badge to try and control me.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Talk to me—ask me—before you decide to go do whatever you think is best.”

  He nodded, processing her statement. “Fair enough. Ball’s in your court. I’ll call them if you want me to. There is a third option, though. You could come home with me.”