All I've Ever Wanted

by Adrianne Byrd

  “Maybe I should sleep with you so you can feel safe.”

  She laughed at the familiar quote. She used to tell him that whenever he had had a bad dream. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “Are you sure?” He could barely keep his eyes open.

  She smiled at his weary but unquestionable chivalry. “I’m sure.”

  Max jerked open the fridge and withdrew a beer. He popped the cap and placed the cold bottle against his forehead. He closed his eyes and prayed for sleep. But as usual—his prayers had fallen on deaf ears.

  He took a swig from the long-necked bottle and enjoyed the slight buzz he achieved from his fifth drink. Scratching the new stubble on his chin, he left the kitchen and returned to his La-Z-Boy.

  Instead of reviewing his notes from the Underwood case, he reached for the silver frame that sat on the edge of the end table. He stared benignly at the small family smiling back at him.

  Truth was, right now he didn’t remember having that picture taken. He wasn’t sure whether that was because of a bad memory or the effect of alcohol on an empty stomach. How old was little Frankie then—two, three?

  “My, how time flies when you’re having fun.” He returned the photograph to the table. Problem was, he wasn’t having much fun. He downed another long gulp, halfway wishing that this bottle would take him to oblivion—a place where pain didn’t exist and nothing mattered.

  He cursed under his breath. What was wrong with him? Oblivion was a temporary solution for a long-term problem. How on earth was he supposed to live with just seeing his son one weekend a month?

  Max slid his gaze back to the picture, then narrowed his eyes at the woman who had ripped his heart out. Even sober he couldn’t laugh at the memory of his once-upon-a-time yearning for her—dreaming and planning on happily ever after. It was sickening, really. Since then, willingness to trust or even love again had ranked in the bottom five hundred on his list of life’s ambitions.

  Another gulp and he emptied the bottle. He was no closer to oblivion now than he’d been five hours ago. Better luck tomorrow night.

  In the fireplace, the once roaring fire had been reduced to glowing embers—such was his life. He waved off self-pity and depression with a sweep of his hand and grabbed the manila folder.

  As his eyes peeled over notes and facts, he wondered why Underwood had been killed, instead of who had done it.

  He shifted his gaze back to the fireplace. The embers brought back an unexpected memory of a certain pair of eyes that held their own kind of spark.

  He smiled to himself, then worried about the truth of his own warning. How much trouble was Kennedy St. James really in? Did she understand what she was up against?

  He remembered her little boy and thought more on his own son. It didn’t take much to understand why she wasn’t talking; to be honest with himself, he really couldn’t blame her. But he had a job to do, and that job was to get her to talk.

  Chapter 10

  Aaliyah rubbed her tired eyes and continued to stare at her computer screen. At this point, she wished that she could take her coffee intravenously to avoid the trouble of getting up to fill her cup.

  She’d spent the last few days researching everything she could get her hands on regarding A.D.A. Marion Underwood. Some articles painted him as a hero. Professionally, he’d won countless, impressive cases, ranging from domestic violence to organized crime. All were possible leads to his murder.

  Then there were the articles regarding his personal life that portrayed him as a hypocrite, a liar and a thief. Those were the ones that interested her.

  Marion Underwood, born and raised in Atlanta, had been married four times: once to a cop, the other three to the same woman, Judge Sandra Hickman.

  From what she could tell, his life hadn’t become interesting until his second marriage. He’d wed a Det. Jaclyn Mason, a cop with all the right connections. The bride’s father was Lieutenant Governor and her mother was District Attorney. How lucky could one ambitious man get? Though the marriage was brief, Underwood had emerged from it with a new job and a whole new lifestyle.

  At dawn, Aaliyah decided to call it quits. Other than marital woes, she couldn’t really find any dirt on the man, which was a great disappointment and meant that she’d wasted her time.

  Another article appeared on the screen just as she was ready to log off.

  FULTON COUNTY INMATE SCREAMS FOUL PLAY

  Aaliyah leaned forward in her chair and read the date of the article. July 13, 1992. She reached for her mug and sipped absently at the lukewarm coffee.

  According to the article, the inmate claimed that he’d been railroaded by the D.A.’s office. He also pointed a finger at A.D.A. Underwood for requesting a bribe.

  The way the piece was written, it dispelled the inmate’s ramblings as delusional and desperate. She quickly clicked another icon and pulled up all public information on the inmate, Keenan Lawrence.

  Kennedy was dead on her feet. Dead asleep that is. By 10:00 a.m. she’d declared the day a total disaster, which didn’t leave much to look forward to.

  She’d lost count of how many customers had deserted her station, fuming.

  “Do I need to send you home before the lunch crowd swamps this place?” Bennie asked in a low and irritated voice. “You’re not much help to me if you’re going to be chasing away the customers.”

  “Cut me some slack. I’m in the middle of having a bad life. Do you mind?”

  “By all means, go ahead. Don’t let my measly little business get in your way.” His meaty hand covered his heart, but his look of sincerity was a mockery.

  “You’re a real piece of work, Bennie.” She snatched the coffeepot from the burner and went to refill the cup of one of the diner’s regular’s, Mr. Riley.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” he said when he looked up at her somber expression.

  “Why pay for what you can get for free?”

  He smiled. “You got me on that one.”

  Kennedy returned the gesture, though the corners of her lips trembled a bit beneath the strain. “You’re sweet for asking. Thanks.” She patted his hand. “It’s just one of those days.”

  Bennie suddenly appeared at her side. “Kennedy, when you two are done flirting, you might want to attend to the customers at table twenty-three. They’ve been waiting for ten minutes.”

  She clenched her teeth, wishing like hell she could bite him.

  Bennie laughed and snapped a towel at her behind. “Get a move on it.”

  If she hadn’t known Bennie for most of her life, and considered him a good friend, she would have reamed him a new one for that smack.

  She arrived at table twenty-three and reached for her order pad without looking up. “Hi. Welcome to—”

  Her mouth fell open when she raised her eyes and recognized her customers as Detective Collier and his smug partner.

  “What the hell are you two doing here?”

  Dossman frowned. “I’m willing to bet that you’ve never made employee of the month. Am I right?”

  Her back stiffened. “Isn’t this police harassment?”

  Collier was a picture of innocence wrongly accused when he looked to his partner and said, “I thought that this was called breakfast.”

  “Times are a-changing, I suppose,” Dossman said with a shrug.

  Kennedy controlled herself in time to stop herself from screaming a stream of obscenities. “Maybe this is a matter I need to take up with your superior.” If nothing else, at least the threat sounded good.

  “Does that mean that you won’t be taking our orders?” Collier’s innocent expression remained unchanged.

  “You know, I’m starting to think your names should be Detective Abbott and Detective Costello.”

  “She has jokes,” Dossman marveled.

  “I’ve noticed.”

  Collier turned a smile in Kennedy’s direction and she had to fight to suppress the butterflies in her stomach.

  “You l
ook like hell,” Max said. “Didn’t you get much sleep last night?”

  The butterflies vanished. “I slept fine. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Hmm. I’m glad one of us did. I worried about you and your son all night.”

  She clenched her jaw and stared at him. “My son and I are fine.” She flipped her order pad closed. “If you came here to pester me about that murder, then you’re just wasting your time.”

  “Because you weren’t there, right?” Max questioned.

  She slapped her palm against her forehead. “By George, I think he’s got it.” Her expression hardened. “Now, if you two are finished wasting my time—”

  “You haven’t even taken our order,” Dossman said, pretending to be insulted.

  “Heck, we haven’t even gotten a cup of coffee,” Collier added. “Maybe we should have a word with your superior.”

  She stood there, infuriated, while they simply looked at her. “Fine. Two cups of coffee and then I want you two out of here.”

  Dossman glanced down at his menu. “And a ham-and-cheese omelet.”

  “Make that two,” Collier added with a wink.

  Delivering a left hook would no doubt land her in jail, but she entertained the thought all the same. “Two coffees, two omelets, anything else?”

  “Toast,” Dossman ordered as an afterthought.

  “Bacon,” Collier said, then snapped his fingers. “Better yet, make it link sausages.” He shrugged. “You know what they say—breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

  She couldn’t manage a reply even if she wanted to. Instead, she turned on her heel and went to place their order.

  Max watched her as she stormed off, unexpectedly drawn to the rhythmic sway of her hips.

  Dossman waved his hand in front of Max’s face to break the spell. “Earth to Collierville.”

  “Cut it out,” Max admonished with an unexplained smile.

  “Help me out with this one. I thought that you always played the good cop and I was the bad one,” Dossman said.

  “You’re not sore, are you?”

  “Of course not. I’m just wondering if this is the way we ought to go on this one. I mean, the object is to get her to trust us. Or, did I miss something?”

  Max glanced around to ensure that Kennedy was out of earshot. “I don’t think kneeling on bended knee is going to affect her.”

  “And playing like Columbo and pestering her to death will? I’m not following your logic.”

  Neither was Max, now that he sat back and thought about it.

  When Max didn’t respond, Dossman tried a different approach. “Okay, let’s do it this way. What’s the plan? You do have a plan, don’t you?”

  “We have breakfast.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” Max reaffirmed.

  On cue, Kennedy returned to the table. The cups clinked as she sat them down.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have those cute little French-vanilla creamers, would you?” Max’s smile dropped at her stony expression. “I guess hazelnut is out of the question, too?”

  Her hands balled into fists and nestled on her hips before she stormed off without uttering a word.

  “I’m beginning to like her,” Max said absently.

  “Come again?”

  His gaze swung back to meet his partner’s. “Figuratively.”

  “Uh-huh.” Dossman looked in the direction where Kennedy had disappeared, then back at his partner. “I don’t think we’re going to get her to talk this way. In fact, I think this is a lost cause. We have no real proof that she has ever been in those woods.”

  “What about the necklace?”

  “She said she lost it.”

  “I don’t buy it.” Max waved a dismissive hand in Dossman’s direction.

  “I don’t, either. The point is that we can’t prove otherwise.”

  “Then maybe we need to search harder.” At Dossman’s exasperated look, Max leaned over the table toward him. “I’m not just trying to be a hard-ass here. She’s running scared. And what other option do we have? We can’t turn our backs and make a wish upon a fallen star that we get another break in this case.”

  Dossman threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. You made your point…and I agree with you.”

  Moments later, Kennedy returned to their table. “Two ham-and-cheese omelets, toast, a side order of bacon, link sausages, and—” she reached into her apron pocket “—French-vanilla and hazelnut creamers for your coffee. Please tell me there is nothing else I can get for you.”

  Both men smiled.

  “Good,” she said. She slapped their check down on the table, then headed for the next table.

  “She does kind of grow on you,” Dossman said with a wink.

  After Kennedy made sure that all her customers were taken care of, she joined Tyne in wrapping silverware in linen napkins.

  “I see your Romeo has returned.” She nudged Kennedy with her elbow. “I should have known you were trying to pull a fast one on me. At least this time he brought a friend.”

  “Trust me. It’s not what it looks like.”

  “Well, it looks to me like he can’t keep his eyes off of you.”

  Kennedy followed her coworker’s gaze to the two detectives. She felt a strange fluttering again in the pit of her stomach. What was it about Det. Collier that affected her so?

  The men noticed her and raised their coffee cups in salutation.

  Annoyed, she ground her teeth and looked away. “I wish that they would leave.”

  “Mind if I take the shorter one?” Tyne asked.

  “I thought you didn’t go for the pretty-boy type?”

  “Girl, I go for just about any man with a job. I’ll even settle for one who’s at least looking for one.”

  Kennedy laughed. “You have issues.”

  Tyne shook her head. “I got bills, girlfriend.”

  Chapter 11

  “Hey, Kennedy,” Bennie called.

  She looked up to see him waving her over. Before she took a step, she glanced over to table twenty-three.

  Det. Collier and Dossman waved.

  She moaned in disbelief.

  When she approached Bennie, he looped an arm through hers. “Do your friends plan on being here all day? They’re costing me money.”

  “They’re not my friends.”

  “What—you recently started a fan club? They’re sure as hell acting like they know you.”

  She sighed. “They’re cops, Bennie. You’re more than welcome to go and kick Atlanta’s finest out if you want to.”

  His expression grew serious. “Is everything all right? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  Saying yes wouldn’t change anything, nor would it help. It would only bring up more questions.

  “It’s nothing like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “Nothing,” she insisted, and searched for a lie that would appease him. “They knew my father, that’s all.”

  Bennie’s expression displayed disbelief. He cast another glance at the two officers. “They look a little young to have been associated with your father.”

  “What are you, the FBI now?”

  “Now calm down,” he said, trying to placate her. “I was just saying—”

  “Look, I’ll just tell them to leave.” She turned on her heel, ignoring Bennie when he called for her to come back.

  As she drew near the table a funny thing happened. Her pulse quickened and her palms felt slick. When Det. Collier’s head lifted and their gazes met, a sudden rush of heat surged through her. There was something about him that reminded her of her father. Perhaps it was the intensity of his stare, or the subtle character lines etched along his mouth and eyes. She wasn’t sure.

  To keep her wits about her, she decided to make and maintain eye contact with Dossman. In her opinion, he wasn’t as intimidating as his partner. “Look, I’m going to have to ask you two to leave. My boss is giving me a lot o
f flak.”

  “Well, we can’t have that.” Dossman looked to his partner as if waiting for an objection.

  “You know I’m really impressed with the service around here,” Collier said. “Maybe we ought to have breakfast here every day before heading into the office. What do you think, partner?”

  Dossman shrugged. “It’s as good a place as any, I suppose.”

  Kennedy turned then, sweeping her gaze over Collier like a searchlight. “Just what are you trying to do—get me fired? Is that how you go about coercing false confessions?”

  Max showed obvious surprise at her outburst.

  “Look,” she said, slapping her hands down onto the table and leaning toward him. “I have a four-year-old I have to look after. I bust my ass waitressing two jobs and somehow still manage to scrape out time to go to night school. I don’t have time to play silly games with you and your partner. I said it before and I’ll say it again—I was not in those woods Friday night.”

  Disguised in a fake goatee and dark sunglasses, Keenan Lawrence smiled, and then took the last drag of his cigarette. He’d watched the fireworks exchange between Kennedy St. James and the two detectives with amusement. Though the small group had frequently talked in hushed tones, he’d always prided himself on his ability to read lips.

  Whether the waitress was telling the truth, he didn’t know. But he had every intention of finding out. The night he’d finished off Underwood, his men had come up empty when they’d chased the unexpected witness. But Keenan knew everything that went on on his streets, and he knew the regulars who traveled them. So he’d decided to do a little investigating on his own.

  He’d seen Kennedy St. James from time to time, but knew more about her father than about her. And he should—considering that the man had arrested him more times than any other cop on the force.

  “Can I get you anything else, sugar?” his waitress, Tyne, asked as she placed his bill facedown on the table.

  He lifted his gaze to the waitress and admired her pretty smile. “Nah, I think that will just about do me.” He smiled back.