“What were you calling about, then?” he snapped in a much colder voice.
“Um, I had a question. Do you know who’s been assigned to the Michelle Brown case?”
“Michelle Brown? Why?”
“I…” She couldn’t say it. Her stomach rolled at the thought. Because my brother is a suspect. “I know someone who knew her,” she blurted out. “I told them I’d see what I could find out.”
“Not another one,” he muttered. “I think that girl was friends with half the people in Aspen. The D.A. has the case right now. I seriously doubt he’ll assign it to anyone else.”
“Should I be nervous? Is there a killer out there stalking young women?”
“Well, you’re ten years older than Michelle was, Jane,” he said drily, clearly meaning to be snide. “But no, I wouldn’t worry too much. I can’t reveal anything else, but we may have the guy in custody already.”
Although she was sitting down, a wave of dizziness descended over her. He must mean Jessie. He must. “You think you’ve caught him?”
Greg cleared his throat, and his voice became sharper. “I’m not saying we caught him, okay? Don’t go spreading that around. I’m just saying that these kinds of people are usually involved in other criminal activities. It’s likely he’s already in custody for some minor crime.”
“Like what?” she pressed.
“Look, I’ve got to go.”
“Wait…How will you know it’s him? Did someone see him at the scene? Is there—”
“Jane, I can’t give out that kind of information. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Suspicion rang clear in his voice.
“Nothing. I’m sorry. I was just curious.”
“Yeah, well, if you were my girlfriend, maybe I’d consider talking this out with you.” He left it at that, clearly waiting for some sort of response.
“I’m sorry, Greg—”
“Don’t,” he said stiffly.
She snapped her mouth shut and listened to him take a deep breath.
“Please don’t say it again, Jane. I just…” The last word broke a little, as if he were getting choked up.
Jane squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he wouldn’t cry.
“Just think about me, all right?” he rasped. “You can’t just walk away from me like this.”
When she didn’t answer, the line went dead. Hating herself, Jane set the receiver down. She hadn’t accomplished anything and now she felt worse than ever.
JANE SAT NEXT TO CHASE in the passenger seat of his truck. The same seat they’d had sex in last night. Good Lord. Chase felt a fluttering in his chest. The weakness was back again.
“Okay,” she said. “Any ground rules?”
“With my dad?”
She offered a reassuring smile.
Chase glanced toward the trailer. “No, he’s easy enough. He’s a happy drunk. Just do me a favor and don’t offer to run out for beer.”
She nodded, but neither of them made a move to leave. “When did he start to drink?”
“A while ago. He was a detective in Grand Junction when I was a kid. He always drank to unwind, but then my mom died, and…”
“I’m so sorry, Chase. I didn’t know.”
“It was, uh, kind of horrible.” He gave a nervous laugh, avoiding her eyes. “It was just a routine surgery. An appendectomy. She had a bad reaction to the anesthesia…and then she was gone.”
“Oh, no! How old were you?”
“Nine. He started drinking more, but it was all right for a while until he lost his job, and then…” He dared a look and found Jane with her hand pressed to her mouth and tears shimmering in her eyes. “Don’t cry!”
“But it’s so sad.”
“Oh, come on.” He pulled her into his arms and listened to her sniff against his shirt, trying not to give in to the tightness in his own throat. Even twenty-five years later, he still missed his mom so much. “Don’t make me cry, all right? You only like me because I’m a big slab of meat. I can’t show any weakness if I want a chance to sleep with you again.”
“Oh, stop it. It’s sad.”
“It was sad. Yeah.” He kissed the top of her head before he realized what he was doing, but Jane didn’t pull away at the show of affection, so he tucked her tighter beneath his chin. If he had to use his pitiful past as a lure, that was fine. He wasn’t above it. He wanted to touch her, constantly. And there was so much of her he hadn’t touched.
“Chase?”
“Hmm?” The skin of her neck was so soft under his fingers.
“Are you using the story of your broken childhood to make a move on me?”
“Maybe.”
She shoved him away, her mouth fighting a smile.
“Hey, I didn’t plan it, but I’m sure my mom would want me to be happy, right?”
“You’re horrible!” she cried, slapping his arm, but she was laughing now instead of crying, and the tightness was gone from his throat. And for the first time in this long week, Jane looked peaceful.
He ran the back of his knuckles over her cheek just to feel the way the muscles bunched there when she smiled. “Are you ready? We should get in there before he makes it through his first six-pack.”
The smile faded and she reached to move his hand, but her fingers lingered against his for a long while. “I’m ready. Are you?”
“Sure.” Chase’s heart sank as he stepped out of the truck, but he kept his smile in place anyway. It wasn’t her problem. Still, he was relieved when his dad answered the door on his best behavior. He’d showered and put on clean clothes. The living room of the trailer looked decent.
“Hey, Dad. This is Jane Morgan. Jane, this is my father, Peter Chase.”
He could see Jane’s pleasant surprise as they exchanged handshakes and small talk. His dad even got her a glass of lemonade before he got out a notebook and pen and they each took a seat around the kitchen table. It was cozy and normal. Chase watched her laugh at one of his dad’s jokes, and it was a little like a slow-motion scene in a movie. He wanted to pause the video and leave it stopped for a moment.
But the scene kept playing out, and the shaking of his dad’s hands betrayed a flaw in the story. So did the circles under Jane’s eyes and the stack of police records set before her.
“Mr. Chase, I’ll pay you for your time, of course. Is fifty dollars an hour fair?”
His eyes lit up. “It’s more than fair, Ms. Morgan. But let’s be sure I can help you first. Why don’t you tell me what you know, and we’ll take it from there.”
Jane told him the whole story, with some details that Chase hadn’t heard before, and when she got to the part about the women whose names had come up during the investigation, his dad sat up straight.
He asked questions about who’d said what, and where she’d seen the names, and what she’d found out about the women.
Chase hadn’t seen him this interested in anything besides beer in years.
“How sure are you?” his dad asked Jane. “How sure are you that your brother had nothing to do with this?”
Jane sat forward, all her coolness vanishing. Her mouth tightened with fierceness. “I know he didn’t do it. Not because I see him through rose-colored glasses, but because I don’t. He’s a pothead and he’s lazy, and apparently he’s a thief, as well. But Jessie has never been mean. He’s not cruel. He’s not an angry person. When he was twelve, my dad found a dead dog behind the garage, and Jessie threw up before he got within five feet of it. Killing someone or something…it’s not in his nature. He was always the kid bringing stray cats home, even if he wasn’t interested in taking care of them afterward.”
Chase wanted to touch her, put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but this was more important than what he wanted. He watched his dad nod thoughtfully. He’d opened a beer when he sat down, but Chase suddenly realized he hadn’t touched it during the conversation.
“All right,” his dad finally said. “All right. You’ve got my attention. I’ll be happy to loo
k over the file after I get in touch with your brother’s attorney.”
“Thank you.” She sighed, a long breath leaving her deflated. She drew a white envelope from her purse and slid it across the table. “Here’s your first payment. Please let me know if there’s anything else you need. I put the attorney’s card in there, too, and my phone number, just in case. Thank you, Mr. Chase.”
“Call me Peter. I’ll be in touch.”
Chase cast a worried eye at the envelope, wondering how much money was in it and how long it would take his dad to spend it. But this was part of what he’d taken on when he’d decided to introduce Jane to his father. He couldn’t protest now.
CHAPTER TEN
“YOUR DAD WAS really sweet.”
Chase nodded. Yeah, his dad was a nice guy. He always had been. “Thanks. He seemed really excited about the files.”
“He’s not convinced Jessie didn’t do it.”
“He’s still a cop.”
“Good. That’s good.”
She stared out the window at the creek that ran alongside the road. Her face had that distance it had when she was sitting behind her desk.
Chase screwed up his courage. “Should we go to dinner?”
He glanced away from the road again and found her still staring out the window. Clutching the steering wheel, he looked back to the highway. Ah, well. Meaningless sex was all it would be. A guy couldn’t get too upset about that.
“Chase…” she started, just as her phone began to beep. “Crud.” She snatched it up and flipped it open to read the text message. “Oh, no!”
“What? What is it?”
“Grandma Olive. Mac says she’s in the county hospital. I’ve got to go.”
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “He just said he can’t use his cell phone in the emergency room and she’s okay. I don’t know what’s wrong. Will you take me?”
Chase had already slowed and started the turn back toward Carbondale. It took only ten minutes to get to the hospital, and he followed Jane into the E.R. at a run.
It wasn’t a big building, and they both spotted Mac in his bandanna and black leather jacket at the far end of the E.R. at the same time.
“Dad,” she panted when they got close. “What happened?”
“Who’s that?” a reedy voice called from behind the curtain. “Dynasty? Is that you?”
Jane rushed forward and pushed the flimsy blue material aside.
“She just cut her finger,” Mac said. “She’s fine.” He shook his head at Chase. “Crazy old coot.”
Chase watched Jane approach the old woman, whose silver hair was wound up in a tight bun on top of her head. Her grandmother had called her Dynasty. Weird. She was senile, maybe. Or half-blind and mistaking Jane for a sibling. Though even Jane’s coloring was the opposite of Dynasty’s. And the old woman’s eyes were clear and sharp as she spoke to Jane. She didn’t look confused. Or crazy. Or even the least bit vague.
A strange tightness crept over Chase’s skin as he looked at Jane. She was back to her expensive, conservative clothes and elegant heels. Her thick hair was tamed into a French braid and her glasses hid her big brown eyes.
“So,” he said to Mac, his eyes still on Jane, “she’s changed a lot.” It can’t be, his brain scoffed. She can’t be.
“Yeah,” Mac answered, neither confirming nor denying Chase’s insane suspicion. And the suspicion truly was unbelievable.
She can’t be.
He finally met Mac’s eyes and took the plunge. “She even changed her name.”
One corner of the man’s mouth rose. Chase waited for him to laugh and ask what the hell he was babbling about, but Mac just inclined his head.
Jesus. Chase shifted and glanced toward Jane again. She seemed to be engaged in a hushed argument with her grandmother. Well, hushed on Jane’s part. The grandmother offered a loud “Oh, mind your own beeswax, Susie Q!”
No one could change that much. Plus, the old lady had just called her Susie Q. Grandma was clearly not all there.
Still, he decided to try subtlety one last time. “Why’d she do it?”
A thoughtful grumbling sound rose from Mac’s chest.
Chase felt his shoulders bunch, waiting.
“She decided she didn’t want to be Dynasty Alexis anymore. Can’t say I blame her.”
Dynasty.
Dynasty Alexis MacKenzie. Holy shit. Dynasty. His hands went numb as his heart churned unevenly.
“The name was the least of the changes, thank God.”
He hoped the horrified shock didn’t show on his face. “Sure. Of course.”
“She’s amazing.” Mac nodded to himself. “We’re really proud of her. But…” He raised an eyebrow in warning. “I wouldn’t bring all that up if I were you. She doesn’t like to talk about her past.”
Chase nodded. Of course she wouldn’t want to talk about it. She’d been…Well, there wasn’t a polite word for what she’d been.
“Jesus,” he breathed. He could vaguely remember her—spiky hair bleached pale blond, eyes smoky with black eyeliner. And, now that he thought about it, almost the same body she had now, though she’d kept all of it way out in the open back then.
He remembered the first time he’d met her. It had been a wild party, and young Dynasty had been the wildest of all. She’d perched on his lap, her beer in one hand and his thigh in the other. He’d been seventeen years old, and the feeling of her hand stroking his leg while he snuck peeks at her unbelievable cleavage…Chase had been throbbing hard within seconds. Dynasty had laughed and asked if he liked her. He’d slid his hand softly over her bare knee in answer. Oh, hell yeah. He’d liked her a lot. Especially when she’d started pressing little kisses to his neck, her hip rocking sweetly against his erection.
He’d been in heaven for ten minutes, anticipating the kind of fun they would have when they moved to one of the back bedrooms. In fact, he’d been issuing just that invitation when Terrell James had leaned in and whispered the bad news. “That’s Big Mac’s daughter, man. She’s thirteen.”
Even now his stomach plummeted in remembered panic. Thirteen. Thirteen! He’d been headed for his own troubled youth at that point, but he hadn’t been that far gone.
In a panic, he’d meant to slide her gently off his knee, but it had veered toward a push.
She’d squeaked, “Hey!” her red mouth plumping into a pout.
“S-sorry,” Chase had stammered. “Uh. I just saw my girlfriend come in.” He’d felt like a dick saying it, but Dynasty had been unaffected. She’d shrugged and flounced off, and five minutes later she’d been perched on another boy’s lap. The next time he’d looked around, Dynasty—and the boy—had been gone.
And now she was…Jane? Unbelievable.
“Who’s that?” a voice called, pulling Chase out of his cloud of confusion. He looked up to find Grandma Olive pointing a finger at him.
“He’s with me, Grandma,” Jane said.
“With you? Well, ain’t he big as life and twice as natural.”
Jane rolled her eyes.
“He doesn’t look like he’ll be starring in one of those little-blue-pill commercials anytime soon, if you catch my drift.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Jane muttered over Chase’s shocked laugh.
The old woman’s eyes sparked with life as she gestured with her bandaged hand. “He reminds me of your grandfather.”
“He’s not my grandfather,” Jane snapped. “And you seem to be fine, by the way. I’m going to call Mom and tell her not to worry, then I’m going to find your doctor and see if he’ll give you a prescription strong enough to knock you out.”
“Don’t be sassy!”
“Oh, I’m the sassy one,” Jane huffed as she took out her phone and hurried toward the far doors.
“You there,” the grandmother said to Chase, jerking her head to the side to call him over.
“Yes, ma’am?”
Her eyes narrowed as he drew closer. “Y
ou’re a big one, but you look kind of dumb.”
“Uh…” What the hell was he supposed to say to that?
“Well, there you go.”
Chase blinked and smothered the urge to yell, “Am not!”
“Do you have a job, at least?”
This was solid ground, anyway. “Yes, ma’am. I own my own company.”
“Hmph.” She eyed him suspiciously. “What kind of company?”
“Excavation, ma’am.”
Her eyes narrowed even more. “You look scared. You’re not scared of an old lady like me, are you?”
“A little,” he answered honestly.
“Ha!” she barked. “I like you. What’s your name?”
He relaxed a bit, wondering why he was so happy that she liked him. “My name’s Chase.”
“I’m Mrs. Olive MacKenzie, Dynasty’s grandmother.” Her approval seemed to temper her sharp tongue and they chatted about her garden for a while until Jane returned and said it was time to go.
“And Grandma Olive,” Jane said, “let somebody else cut the limes next time.”
“Young lady, I was making margaritas before your mother was born. I’m sure as hell not going to stop now.”
Jane shook her head. “Come on, Chase.” She walked toward the door, but Olive put her hand on Chase’s arm to stop him.
She waved him closer and Chase leaned obligingly down. “Don’t bring her home knocked up.”
“Oh…God. Okay.”
He lurched away while she smiled serenely.
Jane grabbed his arm and hurried him toward the door. “What did she say to you?”
“She told me not to knock you up.”
“Good Lord.”
Chase couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Your grandma’s a hoot.”
“That woman is not my grandmother.” As they emerged into the parking lot, the wind hit them like an unfriendly hand. Swollen clouds gathered on the horizon.
“She’s Big Mac’s mother?”
Her eyebrows rose in exasperation. “She was married to Mac’s father for about nine months before he died. Then she just never went away.”
“She doesn’t have any kids of her own?”
“Oh, she’s got a son, but he doesn’t speak to her anymore.”
Lead Me On Page 11
