A blush settled across his cheeks. “I like having them. Reminds me of my mother. Her favorite was this pretty pink and white orchid.”
“I like them too.” Not wanting to get into any maudlin discussions after the amazing night they’d had, she steered the conversation to the flowers and away from his mother. If she had to guess, the flowers came from the greenhouse peeking between the trees in the backyard. “Do you grow the orchids?”
“I help when I can, but this is mostly Rian and the gardener.” He waved at the vase then toward the backyard.
Seeing the light dim in his eyes, Jo remained quiet as she slid a few pancakes onto her plate. Pouring maple syrup on them, she took a bite and moaned. “Oh my God . . . raspberry pancakes.”
Holy shit. She’d died and gone to heaven.
He smirked. “Heard you love raspberries.”
“Um-hmm.” Who could talk with nirvana on their plate? The shadows in his amber eyes lightened with amusement.
Chuckling, he dug into his own food. He picked up the conversation about Karma’s ringtone. “Dancing Queen, huh?”
Wanting to keep the conversation light, she nodded. “Yeah, but she didn’t keep the song on too long. I got back at her by putting My Ding a Ling on hers.”
Rough coughing poured from him. “Jesus, wait until I’m not eating or drinking. I can’t believe anyone even remembers that Chuck Berry song.”
“I’ve got a wealth of knowledge from numerous stakeouts,” she teased, snagging two more pancakes to fill her empty plate.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He carefully sipped his coffee.
Looking at him in the sunlight, Jo wished she had a camera to capture this moment. His gold hair was brushed back away from his face. A fine stubble on his jaw looked like gold dust, and the gold-framed glasses she thought were hot, perched on his nose. Her golden man almost too good to be true.
“Terry mentioned Karma was your half-sister. Didn’t you let your family know you were okay after the shooting?”
Jo’s stomach lurched. Crap. So much for not getting into maudlin discussions. Hadn’t she explained Karma to Rhys? She knew she had not explained their father, but thought she at least mentioned Karma and the other two half-sisters. “I let Mom and Dad know.” Tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear, she shifted in her chair. “I didn’t call Karma. We have different mothers.”
“Not raised together?”
“No.” Deep breath. “I have Karma and two other sisters each with different mothers, but all related to me through my biological father.”
An arched brow met her words. “So, three sisters through your biological father and a sister and three brothers from Maddy and Carl. Your family is huge, Jo.”
Did that mean he was shocked? Intrigued? What? He didn’t respond, and nerves got the better of her.
“I wouldn’t call the sisters via my biological father family. We weren’t aware of each other until last year. They crashed my mom and dad’s anniversary party. That did not go over well with me.” Understatement of the year. Poor Sullivan needed to stand between Jo and Karma for more than thirty minutes as they growled insults and barbs at each other. They almost came to blows before Juliette and Jenna calmed Karma down, and Sullivan and Maker calmed her down.
“Then apparently, my bio-dad, that’s what I call him anyway, got hurt and needed rehab.”
Not that she knew what’d happened since Karma didn’t fill her in and Jo would never ask.
“So, that situation’s complicated.” His hand covered hers. “Why not use his name?”
“Hell no.”
“Is it something horrid like Hellspawn or Badass Biker Dad?”
He was teasing, she knew this. However, she wanted nothing to do with the man. “No.”
His amber eyes heated with warm understanding. “You don’t have to tell me.”
Huffing, she nibbled her lip before caving, “It’s Joseph.”
Shock flickered over his face so quickly she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been staring at him.
“You were named for him?”
“Yes. Mom wanted me to have something that connected us.” Instead it pissed her off. With a middle name of Lavette she didn’t have another alternative. But Maddy read nothing but Romance books back then and the woman fell in love with Lavette.
He laughed. “I know you won’t use your middle name and no way would you go by Jo-Love—”
“I’m going to kill my cousins. They told you?” She relaxed now that the uncomfortable subject of Joseph was over. Grateful she’d not been forced to lie outright as that was one thing she refused to start this relationship with.
“Of course. As soon as you were called away at Christmas the baby pictures came out along with every story they could come up with.” He leaned forward, a serious expression on his face. “You didn’t really shave your brother’s eyebrows and put him in clown makeup, did you?”
“Nope.”
Jo waited for a look of relief to pass over his face before explaining. “I shaved one brow, put Mom’s makeup on him and took pictures.”
His jaw dropped open. “Jesus.”
“Nope, just Jo, please.” She smiled, taking the last two pancakes.
Chapter 17
Jo stepped into the station ready to get back on the street. Headed to her desk, she grinned at the sight of Sullivan waving their coffee cups aloft.
Her partner rocked.
“Jo, I need you and Krane in the conference room in an hour,” Lieutenant York said, passing her as she walked to her desk to stow her purse.
“We’ll be right there, LT.”
Current cases couldn’t wait any longer. The ones marked high priority had been doled out to active detectives. But Jo and Sullivan were cleared for duty now.
The investigation took over a week. At one point, she’d been tempted to ask her therapist if the captain was punishing them since they weren’t released yet. However, Sullivan sat Jo down and told her it would be a stupid move; them languishing on never-ending desk duty might be punishment, or maybe the new shrink was just overly cautious.
Didn’t matter because they were back. Anticipation wound through her as she drank her coffee and quickly reviewed the cases. Satisfied, she was up-to-date, Jo grabbed her current case file and jogged to the break room.
“Someone drank the last damned drop and didn’t make a fresh pot,” Sullivan grumbled as she joined him.
“Doesn’t matter, we’ll be getting ours at drive-thrus.”
He grinned, passing her the doctored swill. “Here, go easy, I think I messed up the filter.”
“Great, I’ll be eating it instead of drinking it,” she snarked as they headed toward the meeting.
“Hey, if you want to make a new pot, be my guest. I want to do some damned police work, so I’ll be in the conference room eating my coffee.”
Jo flipped him off as she stepped around him into the full space. Not trusting many people at her back, she preferred to observe until called on. She turned to the back of the room. Two lone seats were open. She nudged Sullivan in the right direction. They dodged knees and stepped on a few toes to claim those lone chairs.
Spotting Brown and Jones coming in, she stifled a snort of laughter as the two men wedged themselves into the remaining chairs near the front. They still held a grudge against her attempt to foist the Gravedigger case off on them. Any aggravation they suffered, she would revel in for the foreseeable future.
The meeting started, and she struggled to keep her mind on the discussion, but Rhys constantly crept into her thoughts. Why shouldn’t he, after the weekend they’d spent together?
Never in her life had she considered having someone that smart as a boyfriend. Boyfriend sounded juvenile. Trying to come up with anothe
r word for him, Jo couldn’t. They weren’t partners since they didn’t live together. Nor were they married, and the title fiancé didn’t fit either. Jerked from her internal debate by York’s barked words from the front, she tuned back into the meeting.
“Rayburn, Krane, I’m putting you on the Elburn case and the Little Market.”
Crap. She made notes on her pad to pick up the files on the way out. Their caseload would be heavy until Abe got his temporary partner.
The day passed with paperwork for warrants to examine Elburn’s car and house. The man’s wife was not a fan of the police and threw up roadblocks in every way she could. The move didn’t help Mrs. Elburn’s case, especially as the woman’s alibi was as solid as a cooked noodle. She claimed to be home . . . alone. Jo snorted as soon as the alibi passed the widow’s lips, and Sullivan stomped on Jo’s foot.
Mr. Elburn died by blunt force trauma while in his office working late. Instead of wanting to find her husband’s killer, Mrs. Elburn seemed to want to make it as difficult as possible for the investigators.
After a quick meal, consisting of reheated tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, Jo gathered her current knitting project and settled into her navy-blue leather recliner. Golds, chocolaty browns, and pale yellows poured across her lap as she situated the yarn. She needed to finish the project by next month if she wanted to give the scarf to Rhys for his birthday.
Leaning against the back of her chair, she wove the yarn together in a familiar pattern, the click of needles a soothing background noise. Jo’s gaze moved to the corkboard across from her. The thing took up almost the entire main wall of her apartment. Sullivan found it odd, telling her repeatedly to get a two-bedroom so her guests wouldn’t be uncomfortable. What she didn’t tell him was, he was the only guest she had.
Of course, Sullivan had felt the need to take her to task about the lack of furniture and decorations whenever he visited.
She looked around and sighed.
The apartment wasn’t homey by any stretch of the imagination. The couch to her left, a basic dull brown, held a comfortable pull-out sofa for when Sullivan stayed over during a brainstorming session. In front of the couch was a second-hand coffee table that had more rings than the ring toss game at a carnival. Her entertainment center was a cheap black pressboard she’d inherited from Carl’s oldest son, and it held her flat screen television, DVR, and stereo system. Directly above the television was Jo’s infamous corkboard.
One other item was a painted yellow table with matching chairs her mother gave her a month after she’d moved into the apartment. Her mother was determined to donate the battered table to goodwill, and Jo just as determined to keep it. Memories of growing up in the Rayburn household covered the table. It reminded her that she became a Rayburn the moment Carl married her mother. He gave both her mother and Jo his last name.
A dent on the side was the first fight she and Lee, her half-brother from Carl and Maddy, had in their mother’s kitchen. In bright red crayon on the underside of the table was a stick figure of a dog drawn by Abigail, her younger half-sister. Along with the handcuff indentations when she’d first ‘arrested’ her brother and sister, attaching the two pretend criminals to the chairs. She didn’t care what Sullivan said, her apartment rocked. Returning her gaze to the corkboard, she fell into her most interesting case to date.
Digger hadn’t surfaced at any of the other cemeteries. No other bodies had been dropped off in any of their sister states. Time was ticking away, now two weeks since Terry’s shooting. Five weeks since a body had been pulled from the ground in Tennessee, the perp had to be hungry. But where would he hunt?
Jo allowed her mind to wander while processing the information pinned to her board. The quiet, calm environment helped her concentrate and see patterns within her more challenging cases.
Her phone belted out Karma’s ringtone making her miss a stitch in her knitting project. Tempted to let the call go to voicemail, Jo answered the cellphone at the last second.
“What?”
“Well, hello to you too, sis. How’s that new man of yours? Good, I hope—” Karma’s voice dripped of overly dramatic brightness and cheer like a peppy cheerleader. Which Karma had never been.
“Hello, Karma. It’s good to hear from you,” Jo bit off between clenched teeth. Why she let this woman push her buttons she didn’t know. “Now, what do you want?”
“Heard you and Sullivan are back on active duty.”
Wariness crept into her. “Yes.”
“You remember how I said Dad still knew some people in Alabama?” Not waiting for an answer Karma barreled on. “One got in touch with him and we’re meeting her tomorrow night. Maker and I can pick you up at the station.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Not one. Except to make sure you don’t dress like cops. The person we’re going to meet . . . let’s just say they’ll run if they see cops.”
“Got it.”
“Oh, and bring a backup piece, because we’ll be going to a cemetery.”
~ ~ ~
Just as she’d given up on Karma calling, Jo’s cell rang with her ringtone.
“You and Sullivan ready?” Her sister’s excitement was palpable through the open line.
“Yeah, we’re almost out the door.”
“Okay, we’re about to pull up out front. Did you tell Sullivan you two can’t be cops tonight?”
“We won’t promise not to arrest someone if—”
“No, I don’t mean— Look, me and Maker are out front, just come get in the car and I’ll explain on the way.”
The call ended as abruptly as it began.
“She got the lead y’all talked about?” Sullivan’s brown gaze filled with wary anticipation as if he didn’t want to think this lead would pan out any more than the others.
Jo understood, but if a chance in hell existed for this tip to pay off, count her in. “Maybe. They’re out front and she said to make sure I tell you we can’t be cops tonight.”
“What the hell does that mean? You never told me where the lead came from.” A deep V formed between Sullivan’s brow.
“No idea, but she’s right there, let’s go ask.” She pointed toward the dark SUV parked in front of the building.
No one knew about her biological father and no one would. She didn’t have any proof he was a hitman. Only a gut instinct, based on her mother claiming he worked for the mafia.
Jo knew he didn’t.
Stepping from the building, she shook her head at the vehicle Maker and Karma occupied. It looked nothing like a police-issued SUV, all black with flashy silver accents and rims polished to a high-sheen. Opening the backdoor, she took a cautious step back at seeing a rough looking man behind the wheel. The man turned toward her, and she released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Maker, what the hell?”
“Jo, Sullivan, get in the damned car before someone recognizes us,” Maker growled.
Maker’s five-o’clock shadow covered his jaw, thick enough to almost be a beard. A dark hat, faded in places, hid more than half of Maker’s face, casting it in a hard, sinister expression. Jo scrambled into the back with Sullivan following. Karma sat next to Jo, leaving the front seat empty.
“Maker, flip the interior lights off. We don’t need anyone getting too close a look inside the car,” Karma stated before she explained what was going on. “Dad still has some contacts from when he lived in Alabama a while back. Anyway, I told him we’d hit a wall on this Digger case. He made some calls—”
“We’re not supposed to talk about an active investigation, Karma.” She fidgeted, unsnapping the holster of her gun the deeper into Eastlake they drove.
The subdivision wasn’t as dangerous as Ensley or other places they went into, but it wasn’t exactly Brook Highland either.
>
“I can if I’m searching for leads and the contacts Dad has won’t talk to the cops. They’re the kind that fly so far under the radar no one would find them before they’d bailed and moved cross-country,” Karma snarled. “If you’re going to follow protocol and spout tons of regs, we’ll let you out here, get the info ourselves.”
It was a matter of trust. Did she trust Karma? As a cop? Yes. As family? She didn’t know. But Karma was just as invested in getting this guy as Jo was. She turned to her partner. Sullivan’s subtle shrug and tip of the chin told her he’d follow her lead.
Jo’s stomach rolled. “Fine, we’ll do it your way. What’re we walking into?” Though she trusted Karma, she didn’t trust their father as far as she could throw this damned car. But they had nothing to go on with Digger.
The orchids were purchased at different shops around the states. No one purchasing them fit their guy’s description. The clothing had been a dead end. Only luck would play into finding this guy. She felt like they were due some luck after Terry’s shooting.
“Nothing, we’re picking up Dad’s ‘friend’.” Karma made air quotes around ‘friend’ and scrunched up her face as if tasting something sour. “Then she’s taking us to a person who frequents cemeteries. Glenda hinted that the woman saw him dump a body, but—”
Disbelief flowed into her. They could not be that lucky to have an eyewitness. “Wait, someone saw the person dump the body? Why didn’t they come forward?”
The chief had appealed to the public after Terry was shot, but no one had seen anything. The crackpots who called the tip line waffled between aliens and their great grandfather coming back from the grave. Then there had been the ones that swore it was a government conspiracy trying to hide the fact zombies really existed. Tuning back into the conversation, Jo beat back her excitement, though she felt in her bones this was the break they’d been looking for.
Gravedigger (The Rayburn Mysteries Book 1) Page 16
