“Start whenever you’re ready,” he told me.
I needed a cigarette. I’d been in such a hurry to find Cindy Jo that I’d left my smokes in the car. It’d been five hours since my last smoke and my nicotine fit was reaching critical proportions. That’s when I noticed one of the detectives had a pack of cigarettes in his front pocket. I leaned forward. “Can I bum a smoke? I won’t light up in here, I just need...”
The guy didn’t hesitate to feed my addiction since he suffered from the same one.
Feeling the familiarity of the butt between my fingers, and the whiff of tobacco, I calmed down inside. I leaned back and began to speak. “This whole thing started because of a fishing boat.”
****
Two hours later, my voice was hoarse from answering a nonstop barrage of questions. As far as I could tell, they didn’t plan to charge me with skewering Cindy Jo Cracken. I’d done what I had to do in self-defense. I suspected finding bloody chunks of her missing husband in the cooler had helped my case more than anything else.
Finally I was free to go. After receiving my personal belongings from the iron lady—who was much nicer on discharge—I wasn’t surprised to discover my cell phone was completely dead. I hated to ask Sheriff Erickson if someone could give me a ride back to my car, but I didn’t have a choice.
I turned and faced the sheriff before I walked out into the reception area.
“Something you need, Collins?”
“Yeah. Could someone give me a ride back to the marina? My car is still there.”
He frowned at me. “Can’t one of your friends give you a lift?”
“Friends?”
He made a shooing motion.
Confused, I waited, facing the door, as the guard buzzed me out of the lockdown area.
As soon as I stepped into the next room, that’s when I realized what Sheriff Erickson had meant. I saw Kevin first, then Jimmer, standing near the door.
I remembered Martinez’ words from last night. You have friends, Julie. Maybe they won’t go shoe shopping with you, but they’d kill for you and bleed for you. But more than that, they’ll be there for you without question. Without you even having to ask.
Kevin strode forward and wrapped his arms around me.
I sagged into him, knowing he’d hold me up. That was the best part of a decades long friendship; having someone to count on, no matter what.
He sensed I was hanging on by a thread, so he kept our embrace brief and didn’t ask me if I was all right. He tilted my head back and gazed into my eyes, concern brimming in his own. “Jules. What can I do?”
“You’re doing it by being here.” I squeezed him. “I’ve missed you, partner.”
“Same here. I’ll have to stick around the office more often just to keep you from getting into trouble.”
“Sorry I didn’t—”
“Hey. At least you sent me a text. We can talk about the rest of it later, okay?”
“Okay.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture so casual and familiar I felt tears welling up.
Focus, dammit. No crying now.
I cleared my throat. “How’d you know I was here?”
“Sheriff Richards called and asked if I knew anything about you being involved in a shooting at the lake. Evidently Sheriff Erickson called him. Not two minutes after that Jimmer called. We drove down here together.”
“Thanks for being here.”
“Always.”
The fierceness in his tone reminded me Kevin never had been—or never would be—a fair weather friend.
“Quit hoggin’ her,” Jimmer complained. Then he enveloped me in a bear hug. “You get yourself into the damndest situations, little missy.”
“I know.” I whispered, “But like you said, there really wasn’t much of a case, was there?”
He smacked me on the ass.
After he set me down, I noticed Big Mike sitting in the waiting room. I scanned the area but didn’t see Tony and fought a pang of disappointment. I crossed the room and stood in front of him.
Big Mike smiled but it didn’t quite reach his worried eyes. “I won’t hug you because bossman might break my arms, but I’m relieved to see you’re okay, Julie. Really relieved.”
“How did you know I was down here? Did Jimmer or Kevin call Martinez?”
“They were already here when we pulled into the parking lot,” Kevin said.
“They?” I repeated to Big Mike.
He pushed to his feet. His big body nearly cast me in shadow. “Do you really think he could stay away when he knew you were in trouble?”
I didn’t ask how Martinez knew. The man always knew. “Where is he?”
“Waiting outside in the Escalade. You know cop shops ain’t his thing.”
Kevin snorted and Jimmer elbowed him.
They called after me, but I was already heading out the door.
I had to stop myself from running when I saw him step out of the SUV.
Martinez didn’t meet me halfway; he waited for me, his hands closed into angry fists at his sides, those fierce eyes of his cataloguing every inch of me, searching for body trauma that wasn’t there—at least not externally.
It hit me all at once. I’d shot someone. While I had no regrets because it had been either her or me, that didn’t alter the fact she could die. I’d been in this situation before, not for a while, but it hadn’t gotten any easier. And I never wanted it to get easier, either. I never wanted this to happen again, even knowing the odds were high that it would, given the life I led.
I felt the cracks in my fortress of control start to widen and I knew I was in danger of crumbling completely.
That’s when Tony strode forward and crushed me against him, staying rock steady, bolstering me before I fell apart.
“It’s okay, blondie,” he murmured into my hair. “I’m here.”
I nodded and found a measure of control. My tears surfaced but never fell, but even if I had started bawling like a baby, Tony wouldn’t leave me.
He knew the instant I gathered myself back together. He kissed my forehead. “Now what?”
“Take me home. But first I need to stop someplace and get a pack of cigarettes. I’m dying for a smoke.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a brand new pack of Marlboros and a book of matches. “Got ya covered.”
That nearly set off the waterworks. “God, I love you.”
“I know.” Martinez’ mouth connected with mine in a soft kiss. Then he stared into my eyes. “You’ll talk to me about this when we get home? Or do you want Kevin and Jimmer there, too?”
I had a tendency to close down when shit like this went down. Tony wasn’t going to let that happen again. “Maybe you’d better invite them over.”
“Stay here while I talk to them,” he warned, “and suck down a couple of cigarettes because no matter how much trauma and drama you’ve been through today baby, you’re still not ever smoking in my car.”
Epilogue ~ or rather, the tail end
Cindy Jo lived.
After recovery from her internal injuries, she was charged with first-degree murder in the deaths of JC Bettleyoun and Rich Barber. She pled not guilty by reason of insanity.
She lost the trial. Last I heard she’d fired her lawyer.
Currently, Cindy Jo is trading manicures for cigarettes in the state penitentiary while waiting appeal. For once, I hoped the judicial process would take years.
I don’t know what happened to her dogs. Frankly, I don’t care. JC did some reprehensible things, but he hadn’t deserved to be gutted, filleted and used as fish food.
In a strange twist, animal activists flocked to Cindy Jo’s defense. It’s a sad world when a dead pampered pooch warrants more sympathy than two dead men.
Once the Rapid City PD released Rich Barber’s knife, I returned it to his family, along with the three hundred dollar retainer. They made a token protest, but I insisted. I did come away with Rich’s favorite f
ishing t-shirt, so all was not lost.
Although Rich had inherited the boat, when questions arose about JC’s finances regarding the purchase of said boat, Rich’s family wisely let the county declare it unclaimed property.
And what happened to the red fishing boat that had wreaked havoc on so many lives? Auctioned by the county. The winning bid? Fifteen thousand dollars. Hopefully, the man who’d purchased it discussed with his wife beforehand.
As the star witness and the hotshot female PI responsible for cracking the case, I suggested the proceeds from the auction of the boat be split between the Boy’s and Girl’s Club’s, to be used for anything except a “Teach a Kid to Fish” program.
Of course, they didn’t listen to me.
They donated the money to the animal shelter.
Go figure.
Baited–Lori Armstrong–books available on
Barnes & Noble/ Nook
Julie Collins mystery series:
SHALLOW GRAVE
BLOOD TIES
HALLOWED GROUND
SNOW BLIND
DEAD FLOWERS
Mercy Gunderson mystery series:
NO MERCY
MERCY KILL
SILENT MERCY*
MERCILESS
*free short story
Books written under Lori’s pen name erotic romance author Lorelei James:
Lorelei James Books
About the Author:
Lori Armstrong left the firearms industry in 2000. The first book in her Julie Collins series, BLOOD TIES was nominated for a 2005 Shamus Award for Best First Novel. HALLOWED GROUND received a 2006 Shamus Award nomination, a Daphne du Maurier nomination, and won the 2007 WILLA Cather Literary Award. SHALLOW GRAVE was nominated for a 2008 High Plains Book Award and finalled for the 2008 WILLA Cather Literary Award. SNOW BLIND won the 2008 Shamus Award for Best Paperback Original. The first book in the Mercy Gunderson series, NO MERCY won the 2010 Shamus Award for Best Hardcover Novel and was a finalist for the WILLA Cather Literary Award. MERCY KILL released in Jan. 2011. The free short story, SILENT MERCY released in Dec. 2012. MERCILESS released in Jan. 2013.
Lori also writes under the pen name Lorelei James, and is the NY Times and USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary erotic romances. Lori lives in western South Dakota.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter One ~ setting the bait
Chapter Two~casting the line
Chapter Three ~ reeling in the catch
Epilogue ~ or rather, the tail end
Other Books Written by the Author
About the Author
Baited Page 7
