Hunt and Prey (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 8)

by Kaylie Hunter

  “Until I hired Mrs. Allen to be my secretary.” He stabbed a chunk of pie for himself. “She cleaned my house while she worked today. Even did my laundry.”

  “Sounds like a keeper. She single?”

  “Widowed. But it would never work between us. Even if I was into women twice my age, she’s scared of dogs.” He set his fork down before leaning back in his chair and rubbing his non-existent belly. “Beast had to ride with me today, which isn’t ideal. Hard to be discreet with a hundred-pound rottweiler’s head hanging out the window of your truck. Which leads me to a question.”

  “No.”

  “You need a bodyguard. He needs somewhere to be during the day. It’s a win-win.”

  “I’m not running a kennel. No.”

  Beast whined from under the table.

  I looked down at him. “No offense, buddy. Just wouldn’t work. We’d drive each other crazy.”

  He laid his head on his paws and whined again.

  “Fine. One day. That’s it.” Beast’s tailless backside started wiggling. I rolled my eyes and sat up. “Beast can hang out with me tomorrow, but only tomorrow. You’ll need to sucker someone else into watching him after that.”

  “Deal,” Spence said as he gathered empty food containers. “I brought my laptop. You want me to run some backgrounds?”

  “Yeah, that would be great. Run Colby Brown’s. Can you also see what you can dig up on Roseline? I don’t trust Gibson to be thorough with this double-homicide case.”

  “Sure thing,” Spence said, dumping the food containers into the trash can and smashing it down so the overflow didn’t fall out. “I’ll run the backgrounds while you do the dishes.”

  I spotted a three-foot by three-foot cloth-covered cube sitting in my living room. It had a handle on one end. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing. “Beast’s bed?”

  “Nope.” He walked over and pulled a Velcro strap, unfolding the contraption into a long floor mat. “My bed.”

  “Why is it here?”

  “I planned on sleeping in front of the door. Unless of course you invite me to share your bed.” His eyebrows danced up and down.

  “And at what point did you decide we were having a sleepover?”

  He flashed a wicked smile at me before answering. “I keep the mat and clothes in my car. Let’s not forget that there’s a contract out on your head. And this arrangement—” he pointed to the mat, “—is just for tonight. Tomorrow, you need to arrange some protection.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Darlin,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like a racoon.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him before walking down the hall to the bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw Spence was right. The swelling in my nose had gone down, but no amount of makeup was going to hide the bruising which extended above my eyelids and went downward to mid-cheek. I did the best I could with another layer of foundation before I fixed my hair into a twist.

  Returning to the dining room, I tossed my purse inside my oversized crossover bag and grabbed my keys.

  Spence looked up from his laptop. “Where to now?”

  “The truck stop where Roseline worked. I want to interview her coworkers. If nothing else, maybe I can get a name for next of kin.”

  “Beast and I will come with you.”

  “No. Stay and work the backgrounds.”

  Spence closed the laptop and tucked it under one arm, then held up his phone in the other hand. “I have hotspot internet on my phone. I can run the backgrounds while you drive. Besides, Beast isn’t ready to call it a night yet.”

  I looked down at Beast who stood at my feet, his backside swaying in excitement as he stared at the keys in my hand. “Fine. But don’t interfere. I don’t need a partner.” I looked down at Beast again. “That goes for you, too.”

  Beast barked twice. I opened the door and let him run ahead of us downstairs.

  ~*~*~

  I sat in the car an extra ten minutes, just watching the customers and vehicles at the truck stop. I had parked in the shadows of the parking lot, just outside the circle of flood lights stationed closer to the store.

  Spence didn’t question my reasoning. He worked silently on his laptop from the passenger seat. Beast, with his head extended between our seats, panted in my ear.

  I grabbed my bag.

  “Here,” Spence said, handing me something.

  “What is it?” I asked, not being able to see the small plastic object in my palm.

  “A screamer. Pull the cord if you run into trouble. Beast will come to your rescue.”

  “A screamer?” I laughed. “I’m not a teenager going to her first unsupervised concert. I’m a cop.”

  “A cop working without a partner on three different cases. Either clip the damn thing to your jeans, or I’m tagging along.”

  I rolled my eyes but clipped the screamer to my side as I got out. When I closed the door, I saw Beast jump into the driver’s seat. “Pains in the ass,” I muttered to myself as I walked toward the well-lit store entrance.

  Inside, the abundance of fluorescent lights overwhelmed my eyes. I squinted until they adjusted, then walked over to the register.

  “Is there a manager working tonight? I’m here on behalf of the Miami PD.”

  “Am I in danger?” the young kid asked, looking around the store at the handful of customers.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” I answered honestly.

  He released a big breath. “Whew. You scared me. I gotta stop watching all those action movies.”

  Everything about the kid screamed pot-head. Including his short attention span. “A manager?”

  “Oh, yeah, right.” He jogged over to a side door behind the counter, popping his head in the other room. A minute later, a burly woman with a five o’clock shadow walked out.

  “I’m Sue Dodd, the manager. What’s this about?” she asked briskly.

  “Can we talk in private, Sue?” I asked.

  She led us past the slushy and coffee machines, over to a nook which held a handful of mini tables and chairs. “This will have to do. I’m not allowed to let anyone in the back office.”

  “This is fine.” I took a seat and waited for her to sit. “I’m here about Roseline Pageotte. I understand she didn’t work last night.”

  At the mention of Roseline’s name, I had the manager’s full attention. “Is Roseline all right? I’ve left about a dozen messages for her. In the five years she’s worked here, she’s never missed a shift. Never even been late as far as I can remember.”

  I didn’t remember seeing Roseline’s cellphone on the evidence log. I’d have to follow up with Gibson on the phone. “We found her body this morning. She was murdered. I’m one of her neighbors, but I also work for the Miami PD.”

  Sue’s shoulders slumped as she dropped her head and closed her eyes.

  I gave her a few minutes to grieve before I laid a hand on her forearm to get her attention. “Does Roseline have any family? We need to notify next of kin.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not aware of any family. I’ll check her application to be sure, but she never mentioned her parents or any siblings.”

  “What about close friends? A boyfriend?”

  She shook her head again. “Roseline kept to herself. I was probably her closest friend, but I knew better than to pry. She even told people she was an illegal immigrant as an excuse to avoid social outings.”

  My head snapped back as I realized Roseline had lied to me. She’d confided to me she was an illegal just after she moved into the building. I remember it was when I asked her to join me for a drink at Bailey’s pub. I didn’t recall any indication that she wasn’t being truthful. “Are you sure she wasn’t an illegal?”

  “Positive. We run backgrounds on all employees, and the corporate office in New Jersey has to approve every application before we can hire anyone.” A frown formed on her face as she stared at the
floor.

  “What? What did you remember?”

  “I didn’t hire her,” Sue said as she looked at me. “The corporate office called and said she was a good employee, relocating from one of their other stores in Lauderdale. They transferred the file to me.”

  Red flags, I thought. “Can you get her file for me?”

  “I need the corporate office’s permission to show it to you.”

  “No, don’t call anyone. I’ll call in a search warrant instead.” I pulled my phone from my handbag.

  “Wait. Stop,” she said, holding out her hand. “The last time I had black and whites sitting in the parking lot, the truckers stopped coming here for two days. They all know each other, at least by radio handles. And they’re wary of cops.” She stood and walked toward the counter. “I’ll get the file.”

  A few minutes later, Sue returned with the file, leaving it with me as she helped the kid at the counter with a line of customers. I skimmed most of the information, taking pictures of a few pages, and then dropped the file at the counter on my way out.

  Exiting the store, I looked around. Customers shuffled back and forth from the fuel pumps and store. I walked to the side of the building where three cars were parked in the far corner near the back. My guess was the vehicles belonged to employees.

  I started walking in that direction but before I reached the cars, I was grabbed from behind. A gloved hand clamped over my mouth as another hand latched onto my left wrist, pulling my arm across my body in a vice grip.

  I threw my right elbow back into my attacker’s ribs, but it bounced off a bulletproof vest as he dragged me into the darkness. I could make out the shadow of a car, parked behind the building. I bit his hand, but the glove was too thick. I reached up and jabbed my thumb into what I hoped was his eye, and his grip loosened. I jabbed again and this time when he jerked away, I was able to spin myself to the right and duck under his arm to escape.

  As I turned to run, his arm snared around my waist, and our forward momentum toppled us to the ground. My chin bounced off the asphalt, slamming my molars together. As my eyes watered, I tried to crawl out from under him, but he grabbed me by the back of my hair with one hand and by the waistband of my jeans with the other, dragging me upward as he stood.

  And then, my luck changed.

  As I jerked from his grip, he must’ve snagged the cord on the screamer. The little black box emitted its high-pitch siren at decibels loud enough to cause permanent hearing damage. As I turned to fight, my attacker’s hold vanished. He was already running toward his car.

  Out of breath, I didn’t bother to chase him. Instead, I leaned over, my hands on my knees, panting. Blood dripped from my chin and splashed on my white sneaker.

  A growling creature zoomed past me. I realized it was Beast as Spence ran past. The car was already peeling from the parking lot with its lights off. I leaned over and picked up the screamer, placing the pin in the hole to silence it.

  “You okay?” Spence asked as he jogged back.

  “You get a plate number?” I asked as I continued to suck in air.

  “Plate was dark. No lights. Sorry.” Placing a finger gently under my jaw, he lifted my head. “You might need stiches.”

  “I’ll live.”

  “What happened?” Sue asked from the sidewalk near the front of the building. Several truckers and the kid from the counter stood beside her.

  “I’m afraid I need to call in the calvary. Sorry.”

  Several truckers looked at each other before hightailing it toward their rigs. She sighed, watching them leave.

  The kid bounced on his heels. “This is just like in the movies.”

  ~*~*~

  I sat on the ambulance’s bumper as a paramedic taped the sides of my split chin together with Steri-strips. I watched Quille cross the parking lot, looking both pissed and tired.

  “I’d just fallen asleep,” Quille said as he walked toward me. “In my own bed—not the couch, I might add. And then you called.”

  “You didn’t need to come,” I told him.

  “Hold still,” the paramedic ordered.

  I waited until he finished before turning to Quille. “I wouldn’t have called it in, but I needed the forensic team to do their thing.”

  Quille reached forward and grabbed the zipper on my sweatshirt, pulling the material away from my body and zipping it closed. “Is there a reason you’re not wearing a shirt?”

  Sometimes Quille was Sergeant Quille, my boss. Sometimes he was my friend. And other times, like now, he acted like a father-figure, covering me up so no one would see my black bra.

  “I bagged my shirt when the first officers arrived on scene. Mr. Tricky grabbed me from behind, so maybe we’ll get lucky with hair or skin evidence.”

  “Mr. Tricky?” Quille asked as he watched the forensics team process the scene.

  I laughed, hearing Quille repeat the nickname I’d labeled my bad guy. “He’s gotten the jump on me twice now. I thought he’d earned a name.”

  “You could’ve been killed.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  He was intentionally not looking at me, focusing his eyes on the rear parking lot where the team was bagging evidence and taking pictures. “You need a partner. Someone to watch your back.”

  I looked back toward my car and whistled. Beast barked twice as his paws pattered across the lot to stop by my side. “Meet Beast. He’s my new partner until things settle.” I reached down and patted Beast’s head. He leaned into my leg, nearly knocking me over.

  “Turner and Hooch, lovely,” Quille mumbled shaking his head as he walked away.

  “Hey, wait up,” I said, following him. “Since you’re here… And you’re already in a bad mood…”

  Quille stopped in his tracks and bowed his head. “Hit me with it. I’m ready.”

  “I have a new theory about Roseline. What if she was enrolled in WITSEC?”

  “Witness protection? I thought she was an illegal?” Quille asked as his head snapped up to look at me. “How’d you jump from Roseline being an illegal immigrant to her being under federal protection?”

  Spence walked over and joined us.

  “I peeked at her employment file. It was too professional. Too detailed. And in some places, the handwriting changed, like someone else had filled in the blanks.”

  Spence sighed. “Shit. So that’s who received an electronic notice.”

  I glanced over at Spence. “What are you talking about?”

  “You asked me to run a background search on Roseline. When I’m online, I keep an operation screen open that shows me anything sent or received from my computer. I noticed a packet of data was copied, and before I could stop it, it had been sent to another I.P. address. I tried to trace it, but the I.P. address jumped several states until I lost it in a maze of data networks.” Spence reached a hand out to Quille. “Sergeant.”

  “Spence,” Quille said with a nod and a return handshake. “How’d you get sucked into this mess?”

  “Just lucky, I guess,” Spence said, grinning over at me. “The paramedic said you need stiches.”

  “I’m a fast healer.”

  Spence looked at Quille, but Quille only shrugged. “Don’t waste your time. Short of gunshot wounds, I don’t even argue with her anymore.”

  “How many times have you been shot?” Spence asked with a raised eyebrow.

  I shrugged.

  “Three times,” Quille answered. “That I’m aware of at least. Wouldn’t surprise me if there were times I didn’t know about, though. This one’s a handful. Consider yourself warned.”

  “About the Feds,” I said, steering the conversation back to the case.

  “Don’t suppose you can call Kierson? Ask him to look into it?” Quille asked.

  “Sorry.” I scrunched my nose. “I sort-of burned that connection before I left Michigan.”

  “Burned it or scorched it into something unrecognizable?” Quille asked.

  “I’d guess somewhere
between the two. It’s best if I stay off his radar for a while.”

  Quille shook his head as he laughed. “You’re one of a kind, Kid.” He pulled out his phone as he walked away. “One of a kind.”

  Greg, the lead forensic investigator, walked over. “We got what we could, but no promises. Tire tracks look standard. The trash and debris in the area could’ve been from anyone. Our best bet is your shirt, but like you told me, it was a brief encounter. I’ll do what I can, but…”

  “I know you will. Thanks, Greg. Text me if you find anything.”

  “Can do.” He slid his wire rimmed glassed up. “Go home, Kid. Get some sleep. Even without the split chin and two black eyes, I can tell you’re beat.” He patted my shoulder before walking away.

  “You two seem close,” Spence commented.

  “We’ve worked a lot of cases together. He’s good. Thorough.”

  “That all?”

  “I don’t sleep with men connected to law enforcement. Sexism is alive and thriving in the blue brotherhood. It’s not worth it.”

  “Plenty of women in law enforcement have relationships with their coworkers without it affecting their careers.”

  “And plenty of others are never treated as equals afterward. It’s a line that once crossed, you can’t uncross.”

  “Good thing I’m not a cop, huh?” Spence threw an arm over my shoulder, whistled for Beast, and led us back to the car.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” I said, nudging his arm off my shoulder. “My rule extends to anyone working or associated with a case. You’re on the wrong side of the line.”

  “I guess we better hurry up and solve the case then. Wouldn’t want you to feel guilty when you break your rule,” Spence said, taking my keys and pushing me toward the passenger side of the car.

  I didn’t argue. I was beat.

  Chapter Seventeen

  CHARLIE

  Monday, 8:01 a.m.

  I woke to the ringtone on my phone. Before I could focus on my surroundings, I felt the phone being placed in my hand and my hand lifted toward my ear. “Yeah?” I answered, looking beside me to find Spence leaned back in the driver’s seat of my car.