“Laurie Ann. You can do anything you put your mind to. Didn’t you tell me those very words a few months ago?”
Jeanie had been sobbing with a broken heart. She’d wanted to die after her husband left her. Laurie Ann had helped her turn the corner.
“I’ll think about it.”
After Jeanie and her kids left, Laurie Ann mulled the possibilities.
If anyone understood what it was like to love and lose, it was Jeanie. But for as long as Laurie Ann could remember, Jeanie had impulsively thrown herself into every situation.
Laurie Ann never had a devil-may-care attitude about life. Her friends even joked that she had an old soul. Headstrong, wild, and experimental didn’t describe her.
But the idea of being all those things with Wyatt turned her on in ways she couldn’t explain. She wanted to throw caution into the ocean and live in the moment. With Wyatt.
Chapter 34
Laurie Ann stood stiffly in Chief Tyler’s office, hat in hand. The summons had caught her off guard. Worse, the chief’s head and neck glowed like a vine-ripened tomato. What now?
“It’s come to my attention that you assaulted another officer,” Tyler said, spitting the words out like a nail gun.
Assault? She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Still, fate didn’t reward weenies. She pressed forward. “I don’t understand. I haven’t assaulted anyone. Did someone file a charge against me?”
“I’ll decide if charges will be filed. First, I want to hear your side of the story.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Last Thursday. The day before the arson investigator came down here. You and Harlow and Calucci were in the squad room. You put your hands on Calucci.”
The argument replayed in her head. Her jaw clenched. “I didn’t touch him.” The memory of her grabbing his shirt flashed across her mental white board, searing a scarlet letter into her brain. “His shirt? This is about his shirt? I accidentally grabbed it while we were talking. It meant nothing at the time and even less now. Did Calucci complain?”
“No. He didn’t mention it.”
“Harlow ratted me out? The things I could tell you that he’s done to me. Talk about assault and harassment. No offense, Chief, but Harlow’s a jerk. I’ve seen his type drift through here year after year. They think wearing the uniform gives them control of the universe.”
Chief Tyler’s brow furrowed. “You want to file a complaint against Harlow?”
“I don’t want to file a complaint about anyone. I’m handling Harlow by ignoring his pettiness. The incident with Calucci was an accident. No harm was intended. Harlow’s trying to stir up trouble.”
“I won’t reveal the complainant’s name. That’s a matter of confidentiality. But I’m well aware of your service record and your exemplary conduct to date.”
“Calucci and I have worked cooperatively since the incident. We’re fine.”
The chief rearranged the ink pens in the beer stein on his desk. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you here. We’re a small operation, and the green cops I hire have issues. You have a natural aptitude for police work. You’re even better than your dad, though don’t tell Pete I said that.”
Even as Laurie Ann felt pride at his compliment, her heart grew heavy. There was a “but” coming, she could feel the winds of approach as surely as if it were a northeaster barreling toward the coast.
“The thing is, you’re ambitious. With your aptitude, you could go far in police work, if you keep on your current heading. But people are watching you closely, watching for you to make a mistake. And you made a mistake by grabbing Calucci’s shirt. In the station and in the public eye, everyone’s conduct needs to be exemplary. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
The chief rose. “Stay put. I’m calling Calucci in here. You will apologize to him.”
Laurie Ann’s face heated. She hadn’t been called on the carpet like this since she’d spilled a mug of hot chocolate on her dad’s Georgia bulldog hat. She didn’t like it one bit.
When Calucci darkened the doorway, she extended her hand to him. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Calucci. I meant no disrespect.”
The young officer looked confused. She nodded at him, intensely hoping he wouldn’t question what was going on. Worse, he didn’t say anything. When she’d about given up on having a law enforcement career, Calucci shook her hand and nodded solemnly.
“We good here?” the chief asked.
“I’m good,” Laurie Ann said.
“I’m good,” Calucci echoed.
“Scram.” Tyler waved them toward the open door. “I got work to do.”
As they walked out, Calucci spoke to her under his breath. “What was that?”
“Would you like a cup of coffee, Officer Calucci?” She nodded toward the kitchenette where the coffee machine resided.
His hazel eyes twinkled. “I believe I would.”
In the smaller room, she filled two cups and handed him one. “Thank you.”
Calucci leaned in. “What’s this about?”
“Someone told the chief I assaulted you.”
“What?”
She leaned against the counter, facing the squad room. “Reading between the lines, he said someone in the squad room is against me. Someone wants me to give up and go home. But I won’t do it. I am a cop, and the sooner folks understand that the better.”
He stood tall and looked her square in the eye. “You’re a great cop. All the guys look up to you.”
“They sure have an odd way of showing it.”
He gestured with his hands. “What did you expect? You work circles around everyone else. You close cases. You can outshoot the rest of us blindfolded. And you’re hot. Not too many males can handle that much competition.”
She was hot? Two compliments in one day. Must be a lucky day. She sipped her coffee, mulling his words. She was good at her job, that wasn’t in question. But she thought she’d downplayed her femininity. She never wore a hint of makeup to work, and her hair was always tidy and out of the way.
At a commotion in the squad room, she glanced through the Plexiglas window to see Wyatt bearing down on her. She groaned under her breath.
“Not now.”
Calucci set his cup down and edged toward the rear door. “I need to be somewhere.”
“Coward.”
The younger officer grinned. “Smart.”
Calucci ducked out the rear exit, and Wyatt rolled in like a supertanker. “Want some coffee?” she asked, squeezing his hand in greeting. Someone in that room had it in for her. Had it only been this morning since she’d seen Wyatt? It seemed like he’d been gone for weeks.
He gave her hand a return squeeze. A hint of facial hair darkened his jawline, giving him a dangerous air. “I want to know why you and Calucci looked so cozy in here a moment ago.”
“We were spending quality time together.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Only if you’re paranoid and think everyone’s out to get you.”
“Explain.”
“Nothing to explain. There was a personnel issue here. I got reamed out, but now everything is fine. Case closed.”
The receptionist came in and refilled her water glass from the big jug. As it gurgled, Laurie Ann wondered if Reandra was the complainant.
Before she turned to leave, Reandra said, “You got a fax from a moving company, Laurie Ann.”
“Thanks. I’ll get it in a few minutes.”
When they were alone, Wyatt took her hand again, caressing her palm with his thumb. “You get some lunch?”
Sparks shot through her arm, down her body, and spiked through her toes. Yep. The chemistry was as hot as ever. “I did. You?”
“Yeah.”
Another conversational topic shot all to hell and back. She thought about switching to the weather for small talk, but the spring-like temperatures were seasonally appropriate.
“You ready to compare not
es?” he said.
She offered him a cup of coffee. “Most of what I learned isn’t helpful. But I’ll give you what I’ve got.”
He sent her a sizzling smile. “Never underestimate the process of elimination.”
She gestured across the bullpen. “Conference room?”
“Works for me.”
On the way, she grabbed her folders and notes.
Wyatt jotted down his list of suspects on the white board. The names were as familiar as family to her now. Deandre Jackson. Bird Prince. Miller Everly. Jacob Whitman. Vernon Carter. Lester Church.
Her hopes soured as she read that final name.
“It has to be on there,” Wyatt said.
She ignored him and the name. “Cross off Bird Prince for being dead and Miller Everly for being in jail. Whitman’s still in the wind. Deandre Jackson has an alibi. That leaves Vernon Carter.”
Wyatt drew lines through those three names. “And your cousin is a suspect until we clear him. Call him, and let’s hear his alibi.”
At last. A reasonable solution. Lester’s phone went straight to voice mail. She left him a message to call her back.
“He didn’t pick up,” she said. “Could be his phone’s off or they’re in a poor service area.”
“Try your dad,” Wyatt urged. “The sooner we nail down your cousin’s alibi, the sooner he comes off the list.”
“Gotcha.” She called her dad, who picked up on the third ring.
“Hey, Sunshine. Everything all right?”
“Fine. I need to talk to Lester. Is he around?”
“Nah. He left me here at the lake. Said he wanted to spend last night in town and party until dawn with some friends.”
A flicker of unease whistled through her. “When is he coming back?”
“Tomorrow, I think. We’re heading down to Ocmulgee for bass and bream whenever he shows up again. There’s some good fishing over there.”
“Ask him to call me when you hear from him. It’s important.”
“Will do.”
“And, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Be safe.”
She pocketed her phone. Cold sweat beaded in her hairline and dampened her palms. “Lester isn’t with my father. He’s been gone since yesterday.”
“No alibi?”
“Didn’t say that.”
Reandra poked her head in the door, waving a piece of paper and staring at the suspect list. “You forgot to pick up that fax. Here it is.”
“Thanks.” Laurie Ann skimmed the place names. Over the last two years, Lester had moved furniture to many Georgia towns, including McDonough, Nahunta, Griffin, Covington, Milledgeville, Statesboro, Alpharetta, Sandersville, Warner Robins, Rome, Helen, Matthew, and Cartersville.
She recognized those cities right away. They were names from her scrap metal task force. Each one of those towns had a thriving scrap metal business and were on her call list.
Her lungs stilled. In the breathless void, she saw her world crumbling. A sob welled in her throat. She wrestled it down, forcing a few shallow breaths.
A semblance of order returned to her thoughts, but no matter how she looked at the facts, her cousin was tangled in the web of this case.
He wasn’t the man she thought she knew.
He was someone else.
She raised her eyes to meet Wyatt’s questioning gaze. “I’ve got a bad feeling about Lester.”
Chapter 35
Wyatt studied Laurie Ann, noticing the tremble of her hands, the defeat in her shoulders. “You finally agree your cousin is a suspect?”
She placed the fax on the conference table and drew in a deep breath. “I agree he’s done things which appear suspicious. That’s a far cry from labeling Lester as an arsonist or a murderer or even a thief.”
“Loose connections are all we have on the other suspects. Jacob Whitman, for instance. You consider him a strong suspect because we can’t find him, and his absence coincides with a death and a fire.”
“I don’t personally know Whitman, but Lester is family. I’ve known him for twenty-eight years. The man I know isn’t a killer.”
Her blind obedience to her cousin’s character concerned him. He needed her to think like a cop. “People are capable of doing the wrong thing, especially when they’re in the grip of a strong emotion.”
Her chin came up. “Why do you keep focusing on Lester? I agree his actions seem suspicious, but we have other suspects. No need to railroad my cousin.”
Between the anguish in her voice and the burning in his gut, Wyatt couldn’t sit still. He rose and paced around the oval table. “This arsonist has murdered three people now, one of them a close friend of mine. The longer he operates undetected, the more victims he’ll claim. I don’t want anyone else to die. It’s past time to catch this guy. We’re close this time. I feel it.”
Her chair scraped the floor. “Get a grip. You’re personally involved in this case. Your zeal for catching the arsonist is admirable but painting someone with suspicion in a murder case has serious consequences. Lester will call and he’ll have an alibi.”
Her phone chimed. She glanced at the display and damned if she didn’t cackle with glee. “The text message is from the convenience store clerk. Jacob Whitman has surfaced.”
After hearing Laurie Ann’s news, Wyatt wanted to hear what Whitman had to say. “Let’s go get him.”
On the drive out there, Laurie Ann listened to the police radio, and Wyatt had his thoughts for company. He hadn’t helped his case with her by pushing Lester as a viable suspect, but he needed her to be onboard with his entire suspect list and to trust his investigational skills. And on top of that, he wanted to sleep with her again.
What chance did he have of that?
She was strong. A tough cookie, his sister Allie would say. She could have any guy she wanted and for a while it had looked like she wanted him. Until he’d crossed a line by putting her cousin in the suspect pool. She’d taken off her rose-colored glasses and seen him as the shrinks saw him—alone, bitter, obsessed. Not the romantic prince of anyone’s fairy tale.
He might as well be the fat, ugly toad in a fable.
Out of long habit, he kept a close watch on the sky and treelines, searching for smoke. But none met his relentless scrutiny. This case had become his reason for living for two years now. He needed to solve it so that he could move on. Why didn’t people understand that simple fact?
“His car’s in the driveway,” Laurie Ann said as she parked. She called in their position on the radio before she turned to him. “Hang back while I determine if he’s armed or dangerous.”
Wyatt opened his door. “I didn’t come all this way to sit on the sidelines. This is my case. I’ll find out if he’s dangerous.”
She blocked his way. “Confronting a murder suspect is a police matter.”
“How about we do it together?”
Her eyes blazed beneath the brim of her cop hat. “Fine.”
As they mounted the porch steps, he stepped aside for her to go first, which put her first at the doorway. She didn’t wait for him. She pounded on the door.
Jacob Whitman appeared, pupils dilated and unsteady on his feet. He had long scraggly hair, a short stooped frame, and a Santa-round belly. “What can I do for you?”
Laurie Ann identified the two of them as a cop and an arson investigator. “We want to talk to you about a police matter.”
“A cop and a fire cop? Isn’t this my lucky day?” Whitman said, hanging onto the paneled door for balance. “I’m not up for police matters.”
Laurie Ann pulled out her notepad. “Mr. Whitman, you can talk to us here or down at the station.”
He swore. “What you wanna know?”
“Tell me where you were today.”
He wobbled and recovered. “My doctor’s office in Savannah. I had me one of them procedures where they put a periscope up your butt.”
“Can anyone verify that?” Wyatt asked.
“Ye
ah. About a kazillion folks. All of them looking up my butt. I hope they got a great look ʼcause I’m not going back. Some things in life are meant to be sacred. My butt is one of them.”
“I’ll need names and addresses.”
“Lemme get you my discharge paperwork. They sent me home with a pile of instructions.”
Once Whitman shuffled off, Wyatt glanced over at a solemn Laurie Ann. “If his alibi checks out, this doesn’t help your cousin.”
“I’m aware of that, but I need to see proof before I rule Whitman out.”
Whitman returned with medical paperwork, which seemed to be in order. Laurie Ann hurried back to the car to make her investigative calls.
Wyatt glanced over at Whitman. “You ever been to Pirate’s Cove?”
“That old dive? Heck, no. I have plenty of roaches out here, no need to ride across the county to see more. Besides, why would I drive all the way to the Cove to get a seafood dinner when there are three places out here that fix great seafood?”
Wyatt’s palms shot out defensively. “Just asking. No harm done.”
Laurie Ann strolled back and handed Whitman his paperwork. “Checks out. He’s not our guy.”
Wyatt thought out loud on the drive back to the station. “Whitman’s ruled out due to a colonoscopy. Prince is dead. Miller’s in jail. Deandre Jackson’s across the country. That leaves Vernon Carter and Lester. Any luck running down Vernon?”
“Not yet. I found a James V. Carter, but he’s working out of state.”
“I’ll run what you found through my database, but if James V. turns out to be Vernon, that leaves us with only one suspect.”
She shook her head until her short hair shimmered around her chin. “That fax from Lester’s boss suggests he may be involved in scrap metal theft. That’s a far cry from arson and murder.”
“For your sake, I hope so,” he allowed.
She sighed as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “I need to find James Brown’s friends. It’s unusual for homeless men to drop off the radar.”
Clever of her to deflect his thoughts away from her cousin, but he’d play along. For now. “They could be dead.”
“Or hiding.”
“We haven’t tried offering a reward for their whereabouts.”
Hot Water Page 14
