by V. K. Powell
“Partners again.” He held out his hand and they sealed the deal with a handshake. “I’ll keep you posted on the shootings and you stay with the Saldana case, on the QT, of course.”
“So why didn’t you get a register of guests at the hotel the night Paul was killed?”
“I did. You know that’s one of the first things I do—list everybody present, verify, and interview them.” He paused, as if putting some pieces together in his mind. “Is that what you were looking for in the sergeant’s office the night Breeze caught you?”
“I knew you didn’t forget, so I assumed somebody had misplaced or misfiled it. I guess that’s still what could’ve happened.” They looked at each other like neither believed that scenario. “Was anything unusual about the register?”
“Not that I remember. I conducted all the interviews myself.”
“I need it. I’ll go back to the hotel and see if they kept the records.”
“Let me know what you find, and I’ll do the same from my end.”
As they settled into their old professional rhythm, the tremendous weight of misunderstanding lifted from Greer’s shoulders. She had her friend and partner back. They could bounce ideas around, come up with possible scenarios, and discuss their findings. Jake was a top-notch investigator and she wanted to count on him again.
“One more thing. Stay out of the bottle. We need to focus on the case, and you have to get your wife back. Agreed?”
“Agreed. Now let’s go give our statements to IA and get on with it.”
When she and JJ walked into the IA office, Craig was coming out. The IA detective who escorted him looked at them and asked, “Who’s next?”
“I’ll go.” Greer was anxious to get back on her case and JJ needed a couple more cups of coffee. Nodding toward the pot, she followed the investigator into his office and closed the door.
An hour later she emerged and smiled at JJ. “Piece of cake.” She practically jogged to the police parking lot and drove to the Days Inn on the other side of town.
When Greer entered the standard-fare lobby it smelled like someone had hosed it down with pine air freshener. The scent was so strong her eyes watered. As she approached the desk, she recognized the attendant as someone she’d spent time with when loneliness rode her too hard. She was an attractive blonde, curvaceous and entertaining, as Greer recalled. But damn, she couldn’t remember her name. As she got closer, the woman’s brown eyes shimmered with enthusiasm and a radiant smile spread across her face.
“Greer! How wonderful to see you again.”
“Good to see you too—” She glanced at the name tag drooping over the woman’s left breast. “Debbie.” Thank God for the protocols of the hospitality industry. “How’ve you been?”
“Not bad. Missing you.” Debbie propped her elbows on the counter and offered Greer an unobstructed view of cleavage bubbling out of her lime green scoop-neck blouse. Overpoweringly sweet perfume wafted from her body and clashed with the heavy pine odor. She licked her lips and brushed at unruly hair with her hands. “Something I can do for you, I hope.”
“I wish I could say this is a social call,” she lied. “I need to look at your guest records for about four and a half months ago, June twenty-second. Any chance you keep them that far back?”
Debbie’s smile lost some of its sparkle but her eagerness didn’t wane. “We keep records for at least a year. I’ll get you a printout.” With her pink-tipped nails, she tapped a few keys on the computer and the old DeskJet printer on the counter whirred to life. “This could take a while. Want a cup of coffee while you wait?”
Greer’s skin prickled with anticipation but it had nothing to do with Debbie’s invitation. The least she could do was play nice while the real subject of her interest printed off one agonizingly slow page at a time. “Sure, coffee would be great.”
Debbie opened the door leading from the common area to the office and motioned Greer inside. “Have a seat. I’ll bring you a cup.”
While Debbie was gone, Greer tried to come up with a subject for conversation that couldn’t possibly lead back to sex. As she remembered, Debbie was good at turning a topic to her advantage.
“Here you go, lover.” Debbie handed Greer the coffee and stepped back, her gaze creeping slowly up Greer’s body like she was filming every inch.
“Thanks, Deb. How’s work been lately?” The question sounded as lame as Greer felt for asking it.
“You know this town. Every horny businessman, cop, attorney, judge, and politician comes here for a quickie. It keeps me in business because this place isn’t cheap and we don’t rent by the hour. The next closest place is over in Hurley, and nobody wants to risk bedbugs for a fifteen-minute lay.”
So much for steering clear of sex. “Guess I didn’t think of your business quite like that, but I see the logic.”
Debbie scooted up on the corner of the desk and her short skirt moved higher over her well-shaped thighs. She parted her legs enough for Greer to glimpse the signature black thong that bisected her patch of blond pubic hair. “I hear you’ve moved that reporter in with you out at Bessie’s. Does that come with benefits?”
Greer was surprised that the news had spread so quickly. She hoped to keep Eva’s whereabouts quiet until they figured out who was after her. “Who told you that?”
“Come on, lover, you know I can’t reveal my sources. But if you aren’t getting what you need, I’ll be happy to fill the void. We were pretty hot together.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you, Deb.”
“That’s one of the many things I like about you, Greer. You’re discreet.”
Greer swiveled sideways in her chair to check the printer and heard a low growl as the machine shot the last sheet of paper across the counter in their direction. She stood to leave. “You might want to have that thing checked. It sounds like it’s on its way to the technology graveyard.”
Debbie slid off the desk, gathered the printed pages from the countertop, and handed them to Greer. “Sure you can’t stay a while? You haven’t even finished your coffee.”
“Wish I could, but this is important and I need to stick with it.” She took the printout and winked before turning to leave. “Thanks, Deb. I’ll catch you another time.”
When Greer got back in her patrol car, she pulled JJ’s witness list from the case file and compared it to the guest register. One by one she checked each name off as she found their interview in the documents. When she finished, everyone was accounted for. She dropped the papers on the seat in frustration. She’d hoped to find something of value on the missing register.
Greer watched the routine activities of New Hope for several minutes, feeling certain that she’d missed something in the case file. She picked up the register and read over it again, one entry at a time. Near the bottom of the page between two crossed-off names was an unchecked one, Carlton Williamson. She’d worked so fast that her marks overlapped that name as well. Mr. Williamson had been registered in the room beside Paul’s the night of his death but left early the next morning—before housekeeping discovered Paul’s body. No one had interviewed him because he wasn’t there when the officers did the canvass or when JJ talked with everyone else.
She dialed JJ’s number and hoped he was finished with IA. When he answered on the second ring, she asked, “Ever heard of Carlton Williamson?”
“Nope.” She loved the way cops talked to each other, a sort of shorthand that didn’t require etiquette or sensitivity. “Why? Who is he?”
“He was registered in the room beside Paul but checked out before the canvass. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t left him out on purpose.”
“Nope. Let me know what you find.”
Adrenaline flooded Greer’s body as the excitement of a new lead registered. She read the contact information and dialed the listed phone number. A secretary informed Greer that attorney Carlton Williamson was out of the country and would return in a couple of days. She left her name and numb
er, requesting that he call as soon as possible. Could this attorney have witnessed Paul Saldana’s murder? As she pulled away from the Days Inn, still psyched about this possible witness, her cell phone rang. She answered and the voice on the other end kicked her pulse up another notch.
“It’s Eva.”
Greer wanted to share the excitement about her latest discovery, but she had to be sure of actual progress before getting Eva’s hopes up. She forced a calm response to cover her enthusiasm about both the case and hearing from her.
“Am I disturbing you?”
The only disturbing thing was the way her body reacted to the sound and thought of Eva. “Not at all. Did you get the note I left this morning?”
“Yes. I’m on my way back to the motel if you’re ready to meet and go through Paul’s belongings.”
“Would you like to have lunch first? I’m starving.”
The line was silent for a moment. “Greer, it’s only ten thirty.”
Greer was glad Eva couldn’t see her blush as she fought to recover. “Well, I didn’t have time for breakfast. If you’ve already eaten, you can have coffee and keep me company. Meet me at the diner in ten minutes? We’ll need to drive separately anyway, because I have things to do later. Please, I need food to work.”
“Of course.” Eva’s answer was as soft and reassuring as a caress.
Greer drove slowly, praying that by the time she reached the diner her emotions wouldn’t be trapped in the continuous memory loop of intimacy she’d shared with Eva last evening. How could one brief encounter make such a profound impression on her? These new feelings rode her all morning like the nagging ache of a physical workout. She needed something to calm the persistent unrest inside—something from Eva. Maybe when the case was over they could spend some time together before Eva left town. But the possibility didn’t comfort her. The next time they had sex, physical desire might be the initial impulse, but it wouldn’t be the only one.
Chapter Fourteen
When Eva pulled up to the diner, Greer was getting out of her unmarked police vehicle. Tight blue jeans hugged her long legs and a faded T-shirt pressed tightly against her compact breasts. Eva gripped the door handle and tried to wipe her mind of the series of sexual fantasies Greer’s body aroused. But today her attraction to Greer struck a deeper personal note. They’d shared something special last night, something more than sex, and that concerned Eva.
After Greer left, Eva had pulled the cover tightly around her as a chill settled on her skin, soaked through to her bones, and made her shiver. She was uncertain if the temperature actually changed or if she simply felt Greer’s absence so acutely. This woman with her honor and loyalty and her raw sexuality burrowed into Eva’s senses and refused to relent. Greer had risked both her professional standing and her life searching for the truth. Such devotion was hard to discount, but Eva wasn’t accustomed to how it made her feel.
Keeping her liaisons as purely sexual encounters served her well. She was up front about her limitations and her intentions, which protected everyone. She always left before the connection grew too strong.
But she’d never had a secure, confident woman emotionally surrender to her so completely. Her heart had gone out to Greer as they grieved and comforted each other. That single interaction bonded her to Greer more fully than sex ever could. Maybe her lessons were wrong. Maybe extremes produced the same results: leaving too soon could hurt as deeply as staying too long.
Before she could examine the thought further, Greer tapped on her car window. “Are you planning to let me starve to death with food so near?”
Eva got out of the car and hugged Greer close, unconcerned with stares from passersby. “How are you?” She rested her head against Greer’s chest, listened to the rapid beat of her heart, and inhaled the fresh fragrance of her skin. She sensed a connection here that had been missing in her life for too long. It invigorated and frightened her because she had no idea what to do about it.
“I’m starving.” Greer’s voice was tight with emotion and she stepped back, holding Eva at arm’s length.
“I meant how are you feeling, after last night?”
“I’m good.” She turned and walked toward the diner. “I appreciate what you did. It’s the first time I’ve been able to cry in a while.”
Eva didn’t want to make Greer more uncomfortable but she had to know. “I hope your leaving so early this morning didn’t have anything to do with me.”
Greer wouldn’t look at her, which told Eva quite a lot. She didn’t address the issue and wasn’t willing to lie. Eva’s heart pounded as though she’d run a marathon. “Let’s get you fed before you pass out,” she said as they stepped inside the diner.
A busty brunette waitress took their order and returned shortly with Greer’s stack of scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns. When the woman passed the fourth time and asked to reheat Greer’s coffee without even a nod at her, Eva found her obvious interest in Greer amusing. But Greer seemed more concerned with her food than who was serving it.
Eva’s stomach churned at the greasy offerings as Greer wolfed them down. She searched for a light topic for distraction. “Friend of yours?” This was a new experience for her, feeling the least bit interested in another woman’s attention toward a bed buddy. But Greer was sexy in a quiet, unassuming way and attracted attention without trying.
Greer looked up from her breakfast for the first time. “Who?”
“Our waitress.”
Greer’s gaze followed the direction of Eva’s nod. “Oh, that’s Sandy.”
“An ex?” She couldn’t stop herself. Greer looked at her like she’d asked the most ridiculous question imaginable. And the look implied more—that she had no right to ask—and she was exactly right.
“Nope.”
Eva was on emotionally unstable ground. Intellectually, she and Greer had an understanding about their relationship, but she’d stepped into a quagmire of emotions with this woman. The conversation made her uncomfortable, testy even, so she reverted to work mode. “Are we headed to the motel after breakfast?” An arousing picture of the two of them on her motel bed made Eva modify the question. “To go through Paul’s things?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I was wondering about the camera again. Since it wasn’t in his personal effects or in any of the pictures, shouldn’t that tell us someone else was in the room?”
Greer rested her hand on Eva’s. “I’ll look into it. But we can’t be certain he had it that night.” Greer put money on top of the bill and stood. “Ready?”
Busty Sandy ran over and tried one final time to get Greer’s attention. “Finished so soon? Sure I can’t get you anything else?”
“No, thanks, Sandy. See you later.” Greer turned to Eva. “Shall we?”
With a bit too much pleasure, Eva grinned and took Greer’s arm. “Definitely.”
As she followed Greer back to Hurley, Eva wondered why Sandy’s amateurish attention to Greer bothered her. After a few unacceptable possibilities sprang to mind, she decided she didn’t want to know the answer—at least not right now. She owed it to her family to clear Paul’s name.
When she and Greer settled at the side table in the motel room, Eva pulled the evidence box from under the bed. She took a deep breath and opened the container slowly, as if afraid of what they might discover. Eva looked inside and her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to be strong, to hold her emotions in check at least until a degree of vindication tempered her grief. But these were the last items Paul touched.
Greer took her arms and guided her carefully into a chair. “Let me.”
Eva watched as she reverently removed the contents from the box and laid them carefully on the table. Greer picked up the BlackBerry and scrolled through it. “I don’t see anything unusual. Have you checked?”
She nodded. “The warehouse address and a map to the Days Inn were the only things that related to New Hope.”
“The property receipt indica
tes a necklace. I don’t see that.”
Eva reached into the neck of her sweater and pulled the medal out. “St. Francis de Sales is considered the patron saint of journalists and writers. Paul wore it to honor my father and me. That’s the kind of man my brother was.”
Greer opened the Italian leather wallet, and Eva recited the contents without looking. When Greer held up two camera cards, she almost dismissed them out of hand. “Have you checked these?”
“Yes, but I didn’t find anything significant—some pictures of the old warehouse.”
“Let’s do it again, to be sure. Get your laptop and we’ll look together.”
Eva powered up her MacBook Pro and slid the first camera card into the slot. Nothing; the card was obviously a spare. The second card produced a series of images. Most of the shots showed the exterior of the Lewis Street warehouse, with a few more of the inside. As she flipped through the last two pictures, a sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. The background was very dark and out of focus, as if Paul had been trying to take them without using a flash. She’d rushed past these before without much thought.
Greer moved closer and Eva heard her breathing quicken. “What’s that? There, in the corner of that shot?” She pointed to the last photo. “Can you get it any clearer?”
Eva tried a few adjustments but the picture was no better. “Sorry. What do you think?”
“I can’t be certain, but it could be two people in the shadows at the back. Maybe I can get Craig to work on it. He’s good with anything concerning computers. Do you mind if I take it for a while?”
“Of course not. Let me know what you find.” Eva thought about Tom Merritt. She would have gone to him with this, if he hadn’t been killed. She prayed no one else would be hurt before they solved Paul’s case. “Do you think your cohorts checked these camera cards before?”
“Maybe. If they were convinced the case was a suicide, they wouldn’t have needed to. And even if they did, this isn’t much of a lead.”
