Hotshot P.I.

by B. J Daniels

  “He wasn’t wearing underwear the night he was murdered. Is that usual?”

  “I would have no idea,” Clancy said, turning away. “I didn’t—I’m sure he wore underwear, but the subject never came up.” Jake smiled to himself, more pleased to hear that she had no idea than he should have been. “Unless I miss my guess, someone interrupted Dex that night, either from his beauty sleep or some other unclothed activity. He pulled on his jeans in a hurry and headed for your place.”

  “Who? Why?” Clancy asked.

  “That’s what we have to find out.”

  Framed in the balcony doorway, her hair shone golden, her face a pale porcelain. It surprised him just how beautiful she looked standing there. How small and fragile. And so terribly defenseless. Protecting her seemed as natural as breathing and had ever since they were kids. He felt a pull so strong, the force threatened to draw him to her against his will.

  “I think we’d better get some rest,” Jake said, stepping past her to close the balcony doors. He could smell her scent as he passed. It made him weak. He took a deep breath of the night air and closed the doors. When he turned, he found Clancy standing at the top of the landing, staring down the stairs.

  “I’ll stay here in the lodge with you tonight,” he said, surprising himself even more than her. “If that’s all right with you,” he added. “I need a good night’s sleep, and that boat of yours isn’t all that comfortable.”

  “You think I’m going to run off, Hawkins?” she asked, too tired to let his lack of trust do more than give her heart a twinge. The memory of Jake lying in the bottom of her boat, however, did offset the twinge some.

  “I thought you could use some company,” he said softly.

  She studied his handsome features, trying to read motive in those bottomless gray eyes. The thought of staying alone tonight frightened her more than she wanted to admit. But was he suggesting staying here to watch over her? Or to keep her from jumping bail again? Did it even matter?

  “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,” she said, reading nothing but concern in his eyes.

  “I don’t,” he said. “Nor do I believe in taking chances until we know just what we’re up against.”

  We’re up against? Just hours ago, she’d warned herself not to rely on Jake Hawkins. But right now his words sounded better than a hot shower. After everything they’d been through today, couldn’t she let herself rely on him for just one night? This whole day had made her realize what an incredibly strong, caring man Jake Hawkins was, just like the boy he’d been that she’d always loved so much. Only, she wasn’t a girl anymore and he wasn’t a boy. “You can take the spare bedroom. The sheets are in the hall closet. You know where that is.”

  He nodded. “Same place as my lodge.”

  He followed her down the stairs to the kitchen and, opening the refrigerator, pulled out two cold beers. He twisted the cap off one and handed it to her.

  She took a sip, surprised at how good it tasted. “You don’t believe Dex is alive and that he might be the one trying to kill me?”

  His gaze, as warm and gentle as the summer night outside, brushed over her face. The kindness in his eyes made her want to cry. Slowly he twisted off the cap on his own beer. “The cops would know if it wasn’t Dex’s body,” he said reasonably.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” She took a long draw on the beer. It tasted good. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. The beer made her drowsy.

  “Why don’t you go take a long, hot shower,” Jake suggested. “I’ll make sure everything’s locked up for the night. Leave your door open.”

  “Thanks.” She opened her eyes. His unruly sandy blond hair hung down on his forehead; the blond stubble at his jaw gave him a rugged, almost dangerous look that she found disarming. And appealing. Suddenly there seemed a million things she wanted to say to him, but she couldn’t seem to sort them out. Nor did she trust her emotions. Not tonight. Maybe she’d tell him how much she appreciated him being here. Tomorrow. When she wasn’t feeling so vulnerable. Or so tired. “Good night.” She set her bottle on the table and turned to head for the stairs.

  As she passed the telephone she noticed that the message light on the answering machine was flashing.

  Clancy stepped over to it, hit rewind, then play. “Clancy?” Tadd Farnsworth’s voice filled the room. “I didn’t want to leave this on your machine, but I haven’t been able to reach you and I wanted to be the one to tell you. The sheriffs having trouble getting a positive ID on the body you found in your garret. All he knows for sure is that the guy’s name wasn’t Dex Westfall. Dex Westfall never existed. At least not until five months ago.”

  Chapter Nine

  The color drained from Clancy’s face. Jake watched her strength and sanity empty with it. He knew only too well what it was like having his world crumble under him, no longer sure what to believe, who to believe. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted for Clancy? In that dark, malevolent part of his heart, hadn’t he longed for her to suffer the way he had? And now she knew what it was like to have her life destroyed overnight. So why did he feel like dirt?

  He watched Clancy try to dial Tadd’s number. On her second attempt, Jake took the phone from her trembling hand and hung it up.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, her voice breaking.

  Jake understood. It was just as he’d suspected. The brand new clothes. The leased car. The new-subdivision feel. No roots. No Dex Westfall.

  He also knew that if the sheriff didn’t get a positive ID in the first twenty-four hours, it could take a while to put a name to their John Doe—if they ever did. Clancy might never know who died in her garret. Nor why the man had stalked her.

  “I have to call Tadd,” she said.

  Jake shook his head. “You have to take a hot shower. I’ll call Tadd. I’ll come up when I’m through.”

  Clancy nodded, looking shell-shocked and terribly vulnerable. She stumbled toward him.

  He felt a rush of tenderness for her. He pulled her into his arms, aware of her soft fullness, her wonderful warmth, her need so like his own. She raised her gaze to his, her eyes as dark as her lashes. The look in those eyes—

  Without thinking, he dropped his mouth to hers, hungry to taste her, hungry to feel her body molded to his. He knew her kiss would taste of sunshine and summer. Her arms would offer comfort and sanctuary. That’s what he needed tonight. That’s all he needed.

  But when his lips met hers, there was nothing safe or comforting about it. The kiss fired his blood, sending desire streaking through his veins at the speed of a grass fire. He became a part of the blaze, losing himself in the heat and the hurry. Losing himself in her. The realization burned to the bottom of his black heart.

  With a silent curse, he pushed her away. “Go take your shower. I’ll be up in a moment, to tell you what Tadd says.”

  She stood just looking at him. He felt like the bastard he was. But he’d better get used to it. He would see a lot more hurt in those brown eyes before he was through with her. When she turned and ran up the stairs, he had to kick down the urge to go after her. He slammed his fist against the wall and cursed Clancy for the love he’d seen in her eyes. It changed nothing between them.

  He waited until he heard the water running upstairs before he dialed Tadd’s home number. It was answered on the second ring.

  “Where’s Clancy?” Tadd demanded.

  “Here, at her lodge,” Jake said. “What’s this about Westfall?”

  “Fake ID, nothing matches up, not his name, social security number or prints,” Tadd said.

  No prints on file? Then he’d never been in the armed services or in trouble with the law, Jake figured.

  “The sheriffs sent out flyers to all law enforcement agencies across Montana and the Northwest. Maybe someone will recognize him.”

  “Clancy told me he grew up in eastern Montana, poor farming family. There might be some truth to it,” Jake said. He’d found that people who lied often mixed in a
little truth with their lies, just enough to hang themselves. He wondered if that was the case with Clancy. Would her lie about his father get her hung?

  “I’ll see that fliers get sent to the smaller towns backthere,” Tadd said.

  “Anything new?” Jake needed to find out if Tadd had heard about Clancy’s little trip to Bozeman.

  “It looks like we might be dealing with some kind of nutcase.” Tadd let out a long sigh. “The police in Bozeman found a closet wall full of background material on Clancy, including all that old stuff about your father’s trial and Lola Strickland’s murder. The landlady said Dex’s sister had been there, paid his rent. Funny, but the sister’s description sounded almost familiar.” Bingo. “I thought Kiki hired you to keep Clancy in line.”

  “No,” Jake said, his jaw tightening. “Kiki hired me to try to prove that Clancy didn’t kill Dex Westfall—or whoever the hell he was.”

  Tadd didn’t say anything for a moment. “How’s Clancy holding up?”

  “How do you think?” Jake snapped miserably. He hesitated, some old loyalty making him want to protect her. “Clancy thought someone was in the garret tonight.”

  “Someone broke into the lodge?” Tadd asked.

  “Not exactly.” Did he really believe there’d been anyone there earlier, especially someone who looked like Dex? “No sign of a break-in.” In fact, the lodge had been locked, something Clancy said she hadn’t done. Jake figured she’d just forgotten she’d locked it. Except for the front door, which had probably blown open.

  “Was anything taken?” Tadd asked, sounding confused.

  “We haven’t searched the whole house, but it doesn’t look like he was your run-of-the-mill burglar. There’re valuables sitting all over and they weren’t touched.” Jake assured himself he owed Clancy nothing but grief for what she’d done to him. Clancy’s lawyer needed to know about everything, even if Jake didn’t like the guy. “She swears the man she saw in the house was Dex Westfall.”

  “Right,” Tadd said. He laughed, then must have realized Jake wasn’t joking. “You aren’t serious?”

  “Dead serious.”

  “Come on, we might not know who he is, but we do know he’s not up and walking around.”

  “At least some guy isn’t up and walking around.” Jake pulled off his baseball cap and raked a hand through his hair. He felt one of his bad feelings doing a little polka at the back of his neck. “Could you send me copies of that stuff tacked up on the guy’s closet wall and one of those fliers?”

  Obviously following Jake’s line of thinking, Tadd let out an oath. “The guy she knew as Dex Westfall is dead. Clancy IDed him the night of the murder. He was her damned boyfriend. Don’t try to tell me that maybe her boyfriend’s alive and we have someone else on the slab in the morgue.”

  “Then it can’t hurt for her to take another look.”

  Tadd groaned. “I’ll get you a flier,” he said, not sounding the least bit pleased. “Just try to keep her in the county in the meantime.” He hung up.

  Jake stood at the living-room window, staring out at the lake. He liked the quiet and the darkness. And the lake had always given him a sense of peace. Tonight it made him restless. Was the guy Clancy had known as Dex Westfall still out there? Or was it just Clancy’s guilt making her see him everywhere she turned?

  Long after he heard the shower stop running, Jake couldn’t bring himself to go upstairs. His body felt leaden with fatigue. But the truth was, he didn’t trust himself around Clancy tonight. It would be too easy to take her in his arms. Too easy to let her get to him. He felt a need for warmth tonight, and he’d seen the same need in Clancy’s eyes. Along with love. It was the love that kept him from going upstairs.

  He sat, put his head on the kitchen table and shut his mind to that kind of thinking. He thought of the past, letting the bitterness swell inside him.

  * * *

  THE HOT SHOWER did little to soothe Clancy. Her body ached with a need like none she’d ever known. She’d seen that same need in Jake’s eyes. So why had he pushed her away? Because he wasn’t about to make love to a woman he thought a liar? And a murderer?

  And yet she came out of the bathroom half expecting to find Jake sitting on the edge of her bed, waiting for her. Half hoping. She reminded herself how much it had hurt when he’d walked away from her all those years ago. When would she ever learn?

  She went to her dresser and, slipping off the silk robe, drew a long cotton nightgown over her head.

  She couldn’t trust her heart to Jake Hawkins ever again, but nor could she seem to stop it or her body from aching for him.

  She lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, wishing there was some way she could prove to him she wasn’t the woman he believed her to be. If only there were some way to show him that she would never have betrayed their love. Never.

  She closed her eyes, too exhausted to worry about the goblins that waited for her on the edge of sleep.

  * * *

  JAJE JERKED AROUND at the sound of soft footfalls behind him. For a heart-stopping instant, all he saw was a ghost—a figure shrouded in white coming from the kitchen. “Clancy?” He hadn’t heard her come downstairs, hadn’t

  heard her come into the kitchen, and he realized he’d fallen asleep at the table.

  She looked up but didn’t seem surprised to find him sitting alone in the dark. As she stepped into the shaft of light that spilled down the stairs, he caught his breath. She looked so beautiful, her face shiny and squeaky clean from her shower, her blond hair still damp and dark, lying in tendrils against her cheek. The long white nightgown cupped her full breasts and floated around her slim ankles. His gaze fell on her inviting curves for a moment, then flicked down to her feet and the floor behind her. She was leaving sandy tracks on the hardwood floor.

  “What were you doing outside?” Jake asked, his pulse suddenly thundering in his ears.

  Her gaze shifted to him and he looked into her eyes. An icy wind wrapped around his neck like the hands of an assassin. “Clancy?” She didn’t answer. She stared past him, through him. Then slowly she turned and headed up the stairs.

  He hadn’t believed her story about walking in her sleep. He still wasn’t sure he did. He hurried after her, not knowing what he planned to do.

  He found Clancy curled in the middle of her bed, her eyes closed, her breathing soft and rhythmic. As he stepped closer, he could see the sand still on her bare feet. She’d been outside on the beach. Doing what? He cursed himself. He’d have to keep a closer eye on her.

  As he started to pull one corner of the comforter over her, he noticed her right hand balled tightly into a fist. It was the sand between her fingers that drew his attention.

  Carefully, he touched her hand, expecting her to wake. She moaned softly in her sleep and her fingers opened like a flower to the sun. In her palm lay a single blue bead.

  * * *

  THE SUN CAME UP, filling the room with golden sunshine and warmth. Jake woke, sprawled in a chair at the foot of Clancy’s bed. He sat up slowly, his body stiff and sore. What he wouldn’t give for a good night’s sleep in a real bed. He’d opted for the chair, pulling it over in front of the doorway, because he didn’t want to leave her alone again, even for a moment. He’d hoped the morning light would bring him some peace. Instead, he woke with the same haunting questions he’d gone to sleep with.

  He studied Clancy’s face. She looked so tranquil, he envied her restful sleep. His dreams had been filled with dark shadows lurking at the edge of his subconscious. He’d awakened at the slightest sound, a creak of a floorboard, the cry of an owl outside the window.

  He couldn’t shake the memory of Clancy sleepwalking. He’d never seen anyone do that before. It was weird. And spooky. He could understand why it frightened her so. He couldn’t imagine waking up and finding sand on his feet and realizing he’d been somewhere and had no memory of leaving his bed. And yet a part of him was still skeptical, even though he’d seen it with his own eyes.
Hadn’t he?

  He tiptoed out of the room and down the hall, anxious to get a hot shower, a shave and a change of clothes before Clancy woke.

  He was dressed in jeans, toweling his hair dry, when she stuck her head into his bedroom doorway.

  “Good morning,” she said, and smiled tentatively. She wore jeans and a blue shirt the color of a summer sky. Her hair was pulled back with a ribbon, and there was a freshness about her, as if the sunshine coming through her window had renewed her spirit.

  “How did you sleep?” he asked, tossing aside the towel to pull on a fresh shirt.

  “Great. For a change.” Her smile faltered. “Did you call Tadd? The last thing I remember, you were going to come up and tell me what he had to say. I must have fallen asleep.”

  “You were sacked out by the time I came up,” he said truthfully. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, studying her. She didn’t seem to remember her little jaunt on the beach last night. Or maybe she was waiting for him to say something. Not a chance.

  Last night he’d pocketed the bead, brushed the sand from her bed and covered her with the comforter. At the time, he’d wanted to protect her. But this morning, his suspicious mind wasn’t ready to accept her sleepwalking. Not yet. If she’d staged it for his benefit, she’d made a fatal error. He suspected she no more sleepwalked than he did. And if he could prove it, he’d have her right where he wanted her. That kind of thinking made him feel more in control than remembering the way her lips had felt on his.

  “Why don’t I fill you in over breakfast.” He smiled at her, noticing with regret that she’d resurrected the wall between them, her defenses safely back in place.

  He told himself he should have taken advantage of the situation last night. What had made him think he might be vulnerable to her, a woman who’d betrayed him and still refused to admit that she’d perjured herself? He could have made love to her last night and maybe gotten to her and the truth. He promised himself he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity if it presented itself again. When it presented itself again.