by Vella Day
Jenna closed the book she’d been reading for the past half hour and rubbed her temples. The incense seemed particularly intense tonight, or maybe the impending migraine came because once Sam Bonita left, no one of any interest had stopped in. Thursday nights at the shop were the worst. At least the tourists on Friday and Saturday made her job more interesting.
Stop daydreaming. Time was ticking. She was desperate to get into the back room for a sample of the blood, but Deidra remained glued in her office. If Jenna didn’t come up with some evidence real soon, she’d be back on the street doing parking meter duty. As she sorted the cash register money, her mind zoomed in on the good doctor. He was smart, had a job that paid above minimum wage, and did she mention, hot? There was no question the man worked out. A runner perhaps, but he also must lift weights. He ranked a twelve on a scale of one to ten in the looks department. She especially liked his sandy blond hair and how the bangs fell over his forehead. His eyes were a rich, chocolate, and those lips—wow. Were they kissable or what?
The bell above the entrance rang cutting short her daydream. Her breath hitched at the thought Sam might have returned. She cut a glance to the door. Oh, no. Charlotte Evert, her BFF since third grade walked in. If she blew Jenna’s cover, their friendship would die a painful death. “What are you doing here?” Jenna whispered.
“Chill.” Charlotte looked around and squealed. “Wow. This place is cool. You learn any spells yet?”
“No.” At least her friend wasn’t in one of her lawyer suits. Her jeans and tight tank top might fool Deidra if she ever came out of her bat cave.
“I’m worried about you. We haven’t gone out in weeks.”
“That’s because I’m working a case. I told you that.”
“Yeah, so you said.” Charlotte leaned on the counter. “So what’s new? I miss our gossip time.”
No one else was in the store, thank God. If she didn’t give Charlotte some tidbit, she’d hang around and cause trouble. “Okay. Here’s the scoop. This really hot guy came into the store a few hours ago needing to speak with my boss. Get this. He works at a forensic lab, and he’s a freaking doctor. Can you believe that?”
“Shut up.” Her eyes had that dangerous look in them. “You dragged him behind one of the tall bookcases and did him, I hope.”
“Char, you know that deep inside I’m not like that.”
Her friend rolled her eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me all the details. You asked him out at least. Right?”
Why had she ever confided in Charlotte in the first place? The whole gang would hear every word of what she said within the hour. “No. I lost my courage, but I did learn where he works, and that’s good enough.”
“He knows you like him though, right?”
“He’d be blind not to.”
“You know what happened the last time you led someone on.”
“I didn’t lead Sam on, I only flirted with him a little.” She scrunched up her nose. “Besides, he didn’t act really interested.” At least not yet.
“Then he’s not alive. What’s he like?”
Jenna stacked the postcards next to the computer. “The usual combination of Hugh Jackman and Brad Pitt.”
“Oh that.”
“Doesn’t matter. He left without asking for my number.”
Charlotte fingered the plastic skull heads in front of her. “I’m putting my money on you. I say you have him in bed by the first of the month.”
That would give her fifteen days, which was completely doable. “You know I can’t resist a challenge. And if I do? What then?”
Her friend’s eyes sparkled. “The first pitcher of Margaritas is on me.”
The headache that had been brewing vanished. “You’re on.”
Char checked her watch. “I gotta go. Billy’s down the street buying cigars, and I told him I’d only be a minute. We’ll touch base this weekend, okay?”
“Promise.”
Charlotte blew air kisses before scooting out the door. Jenna chuckled. Char and she were night and day in so many ways, but she never had a better friend.
It was time to get to work—on Sam, that is. Jenna jiggled the computer mouse that sat next to the cash drawer and clicked on the Internet. Customers often wanted to do research on some item from the store, so Deidra had provided wireless access. Go boss. Jenna typed in “forensic lab, Tampa, Florida.” Up popped HOPEFAL, a recently constructed lab that sat on the University of Braham’s campus. What do you know? Her alma mater. Sweet. Perhaps a visit to her former haunt was in order. Within minutes she found all the information she needed to put her plan into action.
“Jenna?”
She looked up. Deidra’s eyes were rimmed red. “Are you okay?” When Jenna had gone in to ask for Creighton’s son’s number, Deidra had appeared fine. But that was a few hours ago.
Her boss waved a hand. “Just being sentimental. Creighton and I broke up months ago, but I’m having a hard time understanding why someone would want to murder him.”
Stoic Deidra looked genuinely upset, an emotion Jenna never thought she’d see from her. Without thinking, Jenna shot into cop mode. “Did he have any enemies?” Sam never mentioned anything about murder, nor did he say anything about the decapitation.
She shook her head. “No. He was such a generous man.”
“What did that forensic man say when he came in? Did he tell you how Creighton died?” Maybe Dr. Bonita was more forthcoming with Deidra.
“He didn’t seem to know much.”
Apparently, Sam didn’t share with anyone. Interesting. “Maybe you could call Creighton’s son. I bet that forensic dude will tell him everything—being next of kin and all.”
“That’s a good idea.” A faint smile lifted her lips. “I’d love to be able to help the police find the killer, but....” Her eyes glazed over and she clutched her purse to her chest. “I think we should close early. I need to go home and rest.” She sniffled again.
“I’ll be happy to close at ten.” Which would give her complete access to the back room.
Deidra shook her head. “No. No. I’ll close now and worry about reconciling the money tomorrow.”
So much for gathering evidence. “Whatever you say.”
Jenna’s Google search had already uncovered that Sam’s Forensic Anthropology class already had their final exam, but his other class didn’t end until two—tomorrow. And she didn’t have to come into work until six. Now that was what she’d call perfect timing.
5
Backed by a deep blue sky, the sun beamed high in the sky over Braham University. Jenna parked across from the library, slipped out of her car, and inhaled the crisp air, happy to be outside for a change. She strode toward the Sociology building where she would hopefully find Sam—in room 153. Wasn’t the Internet an amazing tool?
As she shot past his room, she glanced inside to make sure her information was correct. Bingo. There he was in all his splendor. Pumped, she turned around and walked by a second time, stopping at the windowed door to admire his tight butt and muscled shoulders. Fortunately, his back was to her as he bent over to help a student. As though he could sense her presence, Sam stood, and turned toward the door. With cat like reflexes, Jenna ducked out of sight. Getting caught now would blow everything.
Heart racing, she sped down the hall and out the front door in case he came out of the room to investigate. No way could she come up with a plausible explanation for stalking him. The adrenaline had blocked her ability to come up with a lie at a moment’s notice.
Once in the clear, she tried to control her breathing. When was the last time she’d taken the effort to pursue a guy like that? A long ass time, that’s for sure. Men always hit on her, not the other way around. Too bad none of the ones who’d asked her out had jetted her libido into overdrive like Dr. Sam Bonita did. Generally, those who hit on her had been cops—understandable since that was who she worked with. She’d accepted a date from someone in her office—once. Okay maybe twice, or possibly
three times, but never for more than a couple of dates. Giombetti had been the exception. They’d hooked up for close to a month. Talk about a mistake. Thank God he bought her story about why she didn’t want to go out with him anymore. No way could she tell him he sucked in bed. The guy was too aggressive, even by her standards, not to mention his unwillingness to do his half of sixty-nine.
She glanced toward the exit door trying to decide if Dr. Bonita would hide in his office to grade papers or leave the building where she would conveniently bump into him. Even though the December air had a chill to it, she opted not to wear her heavy jacket because it made her look dumpy. Jenna had vainly worn a thin, tight sweater instead, which in retrospect was rather dumb.
Resigned to wait until he showed, she moseyed over to a cozy bench in the direct sunlight and pulled out a paperback on Wiccan religion she’d stuffed in her backpack. After finding her spot in the book, she read about the circle of protection. A half hour later, she looked up, wondering if she’d become so absorbed in the material that she’d missed him exiting the building. Other than a few cars driving by, no pedestrians were ambling about. Exams were finishing up, so it was no wonder the campus was basically empty.
Jenna checked the time on her cell again. Was she being stupid chasing this guy? Could be, but he might prove useful if she ever did locate what she thought were human remains.
After another half chapter, she closed the book. Forget it. No man was worth waiting this long. Especially in the cold.
She stood and was slipping on her backpack when something big slammed into her. Coils of injustice shot through her. She spun around. Holy shit. “It’s you. The guy from the backroom at Botanica. What are you doing here?” He had no gun this time, thank God.
He had on a black leather jacket over a white T-shirt, dirt crusted boots, and blue jeans with holes in them. “I’d like to ask you the same thing.”
Her scalp hadn’t completely healed from the blow she’d received in the cemetery. If she knew for certain this was the same man, she’d cuff him and drag his ass down to the station. Pronto. “How did you get into Botanica’s backroom anyway? I didn’t see any door.”
“For me to know.”
Asshole. The back of her thighs touched the bench. Crap. Her damned weapon was snuggled deep in her pack. Even without his weapon aimed at her chest, he was big, strong, and mean looking.
Before she made a decision what to do, the man grabbed her arms and dragged her toward him, her face inches from his chest. “Just stay out of there if you know what’s good for you.”
“Jenna?” The call came from the walkway, some twenty-feet away. Sam! Footsteps pounded the pavement.
She struggled, and the guy released her. She cut a hard glare at the ghost man. “How did you find me?” She asked before Sam could reach her.
“Easy.” He shoved her backwards. “Be careful if you know what’s good for you.” He then took off.
Jenna debated what to do. Yes, she wanted more information from him, but Sam had arrived. Well, it was too late now. The jerk had already jumped in a white pickup truck and peeled out of the lot.
Sam took hold of her upper arms. Gently. “Jenna? Did he hurt you?”
“No. He might have if you hadn’t saved me.” She wanted to give him a sexy look, but none of the muscles on her face seemed to work.
His gaze glanced downward for a moment. “Do you know him?”
She turned her attention back to Sam. “Kind of. I caught the dude in the backroom of the store. He was up to no good.” She wouldn’t mention the gun. Sam would be the kind to insist she report the incident to the cops. Wouldn’t that suck? “He scared the crap out of me. That’s all.” f
“Let’s get you out of here then.”
Exactly her plan. “I could use a cup of coffee.” She held out hands and planned to shake them, but real tremors raced up her fingers. Christ.
“Me too.” They headed to the Jefferson Center that not only housed the bookstore, but a mini food court. “Why are you on campus? Do you go to school here?”
“I do. I wanted to see if my professor had graded my exam. Some clerk told me my teacher wouldn’t be back in her office for another few minutes so I was waiting outside, enjoying the day.” Jenna waved her book to give credence to her lie.” She hoped he didn’t ask her any specific questions on religion or he’d seen through her charade.
She waited for him to ask the name of her professor, but he didn’t. Good. One less lie to tell.
His cell rang. “Bonita.” The conversation was brief. He faced her. “I’m sorry. I have go. My boss over at HOPEFAL just called and said something new was being delivered I have to handle.” A combination of excitement and remorse skated across his face.
Just the in she was looking for. “I’ve always wanted to see that facility. I’ve heard about all the high tech stuff you guys have over there. I was even thinking of changing my major to criminology so I could work in a place like that.” She delivered her little speech with just the right sprinkling of awe and youthful ideal.
His eyes widened. “You’ll probably need to have a biology background if you really want a job there.”
He acted as if there was no way she could handle the tough subject. If only he knew. “Oh. I took two bio classes, but they definitely weren’t my favs.” Yes, they were. She excelled in anything that had to do with science. Statistics was her downfall.
He hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry, but we don’t do tours.”
“I don’t want a tour.” She hooked her arm around his bicep. “I just want a quick peek at the place.”
He untangled their arms. “I’m sorry, Jenna.”
She stood there while he walked away, not even glancing back at her over his shoulder. Fine. Not one to take no for an answer, she followed him. He seemed oblivious to the tail. Good. As he walked up the steps to the lab’s front door, she ran up behind him. “Boo.”
He spun around. “Jenna. What are you doing here?”
She tried to look contrite. “How much can it hurt to look? It’s not like I’d wander off on my own.” Before he answered, she slipped by him, pulled open the door to the lobby and dashed inside. He jetted in behind her.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Afternoon, Dr. Bonita.” The grizzled guard sent them an engaging smile.
“Harold.”
He lowered his voice. “Jenna, you really don’t want to see what I do for a living. It smells. Really bad.”
“I’m fine. I think my nasal passages died years ago.”
The older gentleman struggled with the bow on a large package. Sam pointed a finger at her. “Wait here.” He strode over to the guard station. “Whatcha got there?”
The guard glanced down to his package, and then back again and smiled. “A present for my wife, Dr. Bonita.”
“Oh yeah? Is it her birthday?”
“Anniversary. Our thirtieth. She’ coming home from the hospital tomorrow. She had breast cancer surgery.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Harold nodded.
The bow on the package remained untied. “Do you need a finger?”
“I’d appreciate it.”
What a nice guy. Few of the officers at the station ever stopped to converse with Tanner to see how he was holding up. Hell. She’d bet her badge no one knew the names of the janitors who kept the department clean either. Fools. Not only were workers a wealth of information, they were people too—people with families and hopes and dreams.
The old guy set his package off to the side, crooked a finger at her and held a pen over the logbook. “You’ll have to sign in, Miss, and I’ll need some I.D.”
Sam let out a huff. “Jenna’s not really with me.”
He was so not going to get rid of her. Without thought to the consequences, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Oh, sweetheart, stop kidding.” His heavy cheek stubble came as a surprise given his fair hair.
Sam let out a big breath a
nd leaned over. “Fine, but only for ten minutes. Nothing more.”
“Okay.” She squeezed his arm.
Uh, oh. She had to show ID. Her license had her real name on it, not the name she’d told Sam. Maybe she could say Richman was her maiden name if her asked. Clever, if she did say so herself.
Fortunately, she was able to keep her back between the sign-in log and Sam’s probing eyes. Before the guard said anything, she hurried to Sam’s side. “Show me this wonderful place.”
He cocked a brow. “Don’t even think about sneaking away.”
“I’ll stick so close, you’ll be calling me Ms. Adhesive.” She turned her head and winked at the guard who was beaming.
Too bad someone else stepped into the elevator just as the doors were about to close or she might have stolen a real kiss. Darn.
He unwound her arm from around his and stepped away. “I have no idea what my surprise package is going to be. It could be quite shocking.”
“You mean your surprise might be a dead body?” She swallowed a laugh at the concerned look on his face.
Even before she joined the force, her father made her go to the morgue with him when he had to identify a body. He called it decompression. Fortunately, he never insisted she go with him when he needed to watch an autopsy. That privilege came later.
“I’m afraid so.”
Would she see Creighton Jackson by any chance? Perhaps she would learn some inside information on the man. That would make Captain Lucas take notice. And make Marlon Giombetti, the lead on the case, happy. Given how much his life had sucked, Marlon could use a break. He’d broken down once and said after his mom divorced, life had gone downhill fast.
Once off the elevator, Sam used his badge to open the doublewide, heavy-duty doors in the middle of the foyer.
“Why all the security?”
“We do a lot of testing and research here. Some of the work is for the police and sheriff’s department, and some is for private citizens. It wouldn’t do to have the lab results stolen, and more than just me would be devastated if my bones disappeared.”
“I see your point.”
