by Tatum, Clare
Because there was just no way that the two of them would ever connect long term. She was raising an almost teenager. And just something about Brice’s bad boy manner made her certain he wouldn’t want any part of that, on a long term basis.
And anything short term would just make the next couple of decades of working in the DA’s office way too uncomfortable to be around one sexy detective.
“Looked through those tapes and the evidence checkout log,” the detective said to Brice, giving her an acknowledging nod as well.
“And?” Brice’s edge was back, his face tense, his jaw tightening.
“Nothing.” The guy shrugged.
“Nothing? Whatta ya mean?”
“There’s no record of the weapon being checked out, but it’s gone. Don’t know when it disappeared but there’s a whole bag of evidence missing.”
“Damn,” Brice cursed harshly.
The weapon they’d taken off Sean last night was a different weapon than the one that had been used to kill the girl that had been shot last night.
They’d known that when they’d hauled him in, just using the lack of a concealed weapons permit as a reason to hold him while they’d tried to find evidence of his possessing the latest murder weapon.
Brice glanced at Lainey. “Guess it’s not the first time evidence has gone missing but it could be one of the more inconvenient times.”
Lainey closed her eyes and sucked in a few calming breaths before she opened her eyes again to look at the two detectives.
“Is Moseman on the evidence room video tape going in or out since he’s gotten out of jail?” She was searching for straws but she felt desperate.
“Nada,” the other man said.
A sick feeling swept through her. Everything had gone wrong as far as prosecuting Sean Moseman was concerned. He was a murderer but still he would probably walk free again today.
Free to murder again?
She glanced up at the monitor.
Moseman smiled up at the camera with the most smug, disgusting look on his face, almost as if he hadn’t asked for his lawyer earlier because he was waiting for her, waiting for her to show up and accept defeat.
It was almost as if her were personally taunting her, now.
A flash of rage shot through her. She would put that self-satisfied jerk away. She glanced over at Brice to see the same expression on his face.
Brice turned from the monitor back to her. “We’ll get him.”
The swinging door opened again, and a lawyer Lainey had seen around the courthouse walked in. They nodded at each other.
“Hear you got my client in custody. I brought his concealed weapons permit. Seems it was at his house. His mama asked me to bring it down.”
Lainey let out a deep sigh.
The lawyer acknowledged her sentiment with a shrug. “Whatcha gonna do? The guy’s in the right.”
“This time,” Lainey said blandly. It wasn’t this lawyer’s fault that his client was the scum of the earth.
Sean had been represented by a public defender at his initial appearances for the murder charges. But apparently his mama had scrounged up a lawyer now, sniffing a settlement in the offing for false prosecution, and harassment.
“Tell his mother there’s not gonna be a lawsuit against the city for anything on Sean Moseman’s behalf. The guy can’t stay out of trouble long enough for that to happen.” She narrowed her eyes. “Tell her to save her money to defend her son because Sean Moseman’s gonna need a good criminal attorney, soon.”
The lawyer’s eyes flashed with humor, as if the mother had already said something about a civil lawsuit. “She said y’all just tried to falsely prosecute him once before. The judge let him go.”
“We set him free because we were duty bound to provide the evidence that would have cast probable doubt if it had gone to trial,” Lainey explained what the guy probably already knew. The case had been high profile, and covered in the media from the night of the murder to Sean’s arrest and when he was set free. “But next time we arrest him for the murder, he won’t be so lucky.”
“Double jeopardy? His mama said y’all already tried him and found him not guilty.” As a civil attorney, which is probably what he was, since he’d been called in to help Sean’s mama with a lawsuit, he wouldn’t have followed the criminal proceedings of Sean’s case too closely.
“No.” Lainey shook her head. “It never got that far. Thrown out before it ever went to trial because we weren’t willing to risk that a jury wouldn’t convict.”
She stepped closer and pointed at the monitor. “But, if this low life scumbag really thinks he can manipulate the entire legal system, he’s got another think coming.”
The guy just nodded benignly. “I’ll take my client and go then. He was only picked up for not having a permit for a concealed weapon, right? I’ve provided the permit. So, we’re good to go, right?”
Brice nodded, his eyes narrowing. “Go let the animal out, would you pal?” He glanced at the other detective.
The detective nodded, with no expression, and walked away.
“Tell his mama to save her money,” Brice said icily.
The door burst open and Pete Jones, the young homicide cop who had originally worked Sean’s murder case with Brice, tore in.
“You got him,” the words spouted from him, his glaring eyes directed at the monitor.
Chapter Six
The defense lawyer’s face closed down, apparently recognizing an unpleasant situation in the making. Jones wasn’t going to be happy when he learned Moseman was getting out of jail again.
The defense lawyer turned and walked through the swinging doors just before the other detective entered the interview room and motioned to Sean to get up.
“What’d you get him for, heard it was weapons charges.” Jones’ eager face was alight with pleasure.
Lainey didn’t want to have to take that away from him. Because even though he’d taken his frustration out on her when Sean had walked free on the murder charges, she could relate to how he’d felt.
She’d wanted to smack somebody, too. It was so damn frustrating. Detective Pete Jones hadn’t learned that sometimes you had to wait for justice.
Brice motioned him toward the door as though he didn’t want to tell him in front of Lainey. Didn’t want to risk another outburst in her presence.
But Jones stood in place and looked at Brice. “What?” he said flatly, demanding an explanation.
Brice waggled his hand. “Charges didn’t stick. Guy’s got a permit.”
“Damn.” The venom in Jones’ voice could kill. “And it’s not like we’re gonna have extra man hours to spend going after this guy. The Mayor’s practically laying off cops. Gonna furlough them one day a week.” He waved toward the monitor. “These guys are gonna be all over the city, doing whatever they want.”
He turned and pushed through the swinging doors with a virulent curse.
Brice looked at Lainey, one eyebrow cocked. “Guy’s got a temper.”
Lainey nodded. “I understand his feelings, though.”
“You and me, both,” he said with a harsh laugh. Then, she felt his gaze sweep along her body like a large hand. The female in her wanted to lean into that hand like a little dog leans into the stroke when petted.
But she needed to get to court. A long list of petty criminals awaited her prosecution.
They might not be murderers but each of the people who’d been assaulted or robbed at the hands of criminals wanted justice as much as Lainey wanted it for Simone.
There just didn’t seem to be enough justice to go around.
“Maybe one day it will rain down like water,” she said, referencing the old civil rights saying about justice.
Brice took hold of her elbow and a jagged rip of sensation shot through her, making her forget everything but his touch.
He leaned in, close enough for her to smell him, the scent flowing through her like a shot of adrenalin.
“We
’ll get him, Lainey.” He nodded, an intensity in his eyes that said he wanted Moseman in a jail cell as much as she did. “He will not get away with murder.”
A hot burning behind her eyes warned her of the tears that wanted to come. She needed justice for Simone. She hadn’t been able to get it for her parents, the guys who’d run them off the road had careened away drunkenly, but she would get it for Simone.
Brice’s hand snaked up to take her by the back of her neck, pulling her gently toward him.
She went with the motion, leaning her forehead against his chest. His action was meant as comfort, one fighter to another.
But his touch ignited all her nerves, lighting them up like a hurricane storm cloud.
Her entire body felt on fire, heated with impulses and desires. This man made her want to touch him, want to be touched by him.
Her skin craved him. Her body wanted him.
Want. It flowed through her quickly in a flashflood like a stream after a torrential downpour.
But, she had too much on her plate.
With Julie heading into puberty, she didn’t need to suddenly start witnessing her big sister catting around with a hot man like Brice, in a relationship that was bound to go nowhere.
The little girl needed stability.
Lainey’s body filled with need and yelled at her not to worry about repercussions. But she had to. She’d fought hard to prove herself worthy to get custody of Julie right after her parents’ death.
She was determined always to be worthy of Julie’s respect.
She sucked in a deep breath and pulled away. “Gotta go,” she said, breathily, trying to get her sea legs after the ocean of feeling that had flowed through her at Brice’s touch.
His eyes were half closed, daze softening his features, as though she’d shocked him with her withdrawal, as though he wanted to pull her back, turn down that light and take advantage of the private room they inhabited alone.
She wanted that, too. But instead, she turned and walked through the door, feeling his gaze on her back all the way down the hall.
A little niggling voice whispered to her, It’s just a matter of time. You know it and I know it.
She wasn’t sure if that little voice came from inside herself or if she’d felt it projected from Detective Mark Brice.
Chapter Seven
Another night, another call out to a crime scene.
As she arrived at the given address, a single police car strobed blue light across the dark road.
Lainey pulled her car up on the other side of the street. The area could use a few more streetlights. She waited for a moment to see if the cop would get out and approach her car.
She didn’t want to enter the crime scene before the detectives had properly worked it.
Why had they called her out so early? Only one cruiser secured the scene.
Maybe they already determined it wasn’t anything. Great, she’d gotten out of bed in the middle of the night for nothing?
Her car idled, the air conditioner fighting to hold back the humid, Atlanta night air. Finally, she turned off her car and got out. The sooner she got the word from the officer that it was nothing, the sooner she could go home and get back in bed.
Crickets roared a loud chorus into the still street. The humid air swirled away the last effects of the air conditioning.
Moistness coated her skin, immediately.
She walked toward the cop car, stepping to the side of it but at a distance so as not to startle the officer.
There was no one inside. She turned around. Where was he?
“Hello,” she called.
A low, moaning keen came from her left, from a wooded overgrown lot. The sound begged her to help. Someone was desperately hurt and needed assistance.
Suddenly, she realized just how alone she was on the isolated street. Distantly, a car motor hummed as if to remind her how far she was from help.
This lonely pocket of overgrown lots existed as if designed for murder and dumping bodies.
She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed 911 as fast as her fingers would punch.
“911. What is your emergency?” a voice intoned calmly as if Lainey had called for a pizza.
They should answer yelling, “Where are you? What’s going on?” That would match the alarm in her blood.
She wanted to scream into the phone, “Help. I need help. I’m terrified and alone out here.”
Instead, as calmly as she could manage, she matched the woman’s tone. “This is Assistant District Attorney Lainey Thomas.” Her voice wavered on the last word, thin and almost unintelligible. She sucked in a breath and forced out as steadily as she could manage, “I was called out to the scene of a body just south of I-20.”
“Oh, yes ma’am. I’m sorry. Someone should have called you back and told you that was nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Yes, it was called in first as a body, then they realized it was an old sleeping bag left by some homeless dude. Sorry, Miss Thomas.”
Lainey’s blood surged into her ears. She was alone out here. Where was the police officer?
“I need help,” she said. “There’s a police officer’s car parked on the side of the road, but no police officer. And someone’s hurt in the woods.”
“Oh lord. I wonder what could have happened. The officer said he was leaving the scene.”
Lainey felt hands reaching for her neck. She twirled around quickly but no one was there. She backed up until she hit the police car. It would provide a hard surface that someone would have to run around in order to get to her.
She glanced all around but saw no sign of anyone on the street behind her. A moaning cry of pain came from the woods in front of her.
“Get someone out here right away, someone’s hurt and the police officer is nowhere to be seen. I think there could be an officer down.” She said the words as she knew they would be issued on the radio. Those words, Officer Down, would turn on the blue lights of every cop that could get to the scene.
They’d blast here as fast as possible.
“I want you to stay on the line with me until someone gets there, Ms. Thomas.”
Lainey scanned the woods on the other side of the street, searching for sign of the person who needed help. The pulsing blue lights from the police car shot illumination across the area. But, it was more disorienting than helpful.
“Are you in your car?” the dispatch operator asked.
“No.” Was that someone standing behind a tree?
“Then, get back in your car and lock the doors,” the operator’s voice interfered with her ability to listen for crackling footsteps in the woods.
The painful cry echoed from the dark again.
“I need to go see who needs help. It could be the officer.”
“Ma’am, you need to get in your car and lock the door.”
“Just get someone out here.” She punched the disconnect number. That crying sound wrenched at her heart.
The time it took another cop to get out here might mean the difference between life and death.
She couldn’t let anyone lie on that lonely path and die alone, the way her parents had before rescue crews had arrived.
She ran to her car and took out the baby Glock she owned but rarely carried. Checking it, she grasped it between both hands and pointed it downward as she hurried toward the path.
“Hello.” She walked down the dirt ribbon.
Another soft moan pulled her forward.
She rounded a corner. The pulsing blue, police light bounced through the trees, illuminating the scene in a crazy jig jag pattern, off then on, off then on, like an old fashioned movie scene. She inched further down the path and then saw a body.
A uniformed officer lay on the dirt.
She ran forward, kneeling beside him. “It’s okay. Help is coming.”
His eyes were closed. She took his hand, grasping it reassuringly.
“Can you hear me?”
His eyes flickered open, full of fear.
“You’re okay.”
Blood covered the side of his head. She gripped his shoulder, reassuringly. Should she run back up the path to make sure the ambulance and other police officers knew where she was? But, she didn’t want to leave him alone. Had she asked for an ambulance? She reached into her pocket to retrieve her phone.
A slight brushing in the shrubbery behind her alerted her to movement. The police officer’s eyes fixed on something behind her, terror flooding his face.
She whirled around and as she did so, she lost her footing, falling backward. Her hand hit a branch as she fell and her gun flew out of her hands, off into the dark.
Someone was running toward her and she had no time to look for the weapon.
Instantly, she reacted, jumping up, moving so fast that she was headed down the path before the person could reach her.
But they were right behind her. A hand grasped for her shirt, clasping a handful. She swiveled and jerked to the side, causing them to lose their grip.
Blood surged though her, adrenaline giving her so much strength that she charged into the underbrush as if it weren’t there, running off the path, desperate to get away.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as Lainey ran, bushes slashing across her body, grabbing at her almost as if assisting the person who chased her.
Rabbiting through the woods like a wild animal fleeing from a predator, her heart beat faster than any scared beast’s could. The person chased her like a wolf hungry for blood. He preyed upon the unaware, first the cop, now her.
God, she wished for the baby Glock. She would love to turn and surprise this jerk. But for now, he was in control. She was certain it was a man by the sheer volume of the person she’d glimpsed behind her.
He was seconds behind her, crashing along in her wake. She sensed his hands as if at any instant he might latch onto her—grab her by the neck and squeeze the life out of her.
A burst of siren and a second blue light blared out into the night like an emergency beacon offering help and she spurted toward it.
