Jake stepped into the room carrying a cup of coffee and wearing a grin. “Good morning,” he said, then nodded to the wall. “What do you think?”
“Morning,” she managed, then looked back to the wall. While it was a bit rudimentary compared to what she had in CORE’s evidence and evaluation room, she was beyond ecstatic. While she loved her computer and having access to unlimited information with a few strokes to the keyboard, having everything pinned or taped to the wall now gave her the opportunity to better organize and streamline her thoughts, look at the clues, leads and evidence with a fresh perspective.
“I love it,” she finally answered and moved to the wall. After picking up the dry erase marker and removing the cap, she inhaled the poignant, distinct scent. “Smells like home.”
“Hey, Shorty. I think I’ve got some glue if you want to sniff that, too.” Joy moved into the room carrying a couple of plates filled with waffles and eggs. “After you’re done getting high, I’ve got some breakfast for you.”
For all her gruffness, Joy was a wonderful person. The woman had gone through a lot of trouble to try and match what Rachel had back at CORE. A tenderness she hadn’t thought she’d ever feel toward Joy warmed her heart and brought a prickle of tears to her eyes. This small gesture meant the world to her. Joy had thought about her, had taken the time to listen and understand her earlier frustrations, then took it upon herself to try and mimic the tools she needed to work an investigation.
“Thank you so much, Joy.” She moved to the other woman and touched her shoulder. “This means so much to me.”
“What? Breakfast? Damn, girl. If you’re this grateful over waffles and eggs, wait until you try my beef brisket.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Walter said as he walked into the dining room and took a seat. “Joy’s brisket is the best I’ve ever tasted.”
Rachel chuckled. “I am grateful for your waffles and eggs, and I look forward to your brisket.” She thumbed toward the wall. “But I’m exceptionally grateful for this.”
“I didn’t do it,” Joy said, then went back into the kitchen.
Rachel looked to Walter. “Did you?”
“Nope,” he said, then picked up his fork and dove into the eggs.
She glanced at Jake, who had also taken a seat. “Don’t look at me.” He raised his hands. “I wish my office wasn’t so cluttered. I’d love to have a setup like this.”
That left only—
“Owen,” Walter said as he poured syrup on his waffles. “How’s the morning treatin’ ya?”
Her stomach did a nervous flip as she turned toward the staircase. Dressed in jeans, boots and another heavy sweater that hugged his broad shoulders, Owen moved into the dining room. The memory of his kiss, the taste of his lips, the feel of his strong hands wrapped around her waist and grazing her bared skin collided together, and sent spastic tingles of excitement straight between her thighs. So much for keeping it professional, she thought and tried to ignore the traitorous sensations skidding through her body.
“Morning,” Owen replied just as Joy entered the room again with more platefuls of waffles and eggs.
“You look like shit,” Joy said to Owen, and set a plate on the table. “Here, start eating. I’ll get you some coffee. It’s good and strong. It’ll wake you up and if you don’t have any, it’ll put hair on your chest.”
Walter raised his coffee mug. “Ain’t that the truth.”
Rachel stared at Owen, who remained standing, his gaze locked on hers. “The wall,” she said, despite the lump in her throat. She’d been so grateful when she’d thought Joy had gone out of her way to create a mini evidence and evaluation room. Now that she knew Owen had been the one to give her this gift, even after she’d ruined the afterglow of the hottest, sexiest, most arousing kiss of her life, she didn’t know how to react. Actually, she knew exactly what she wanted to do, but was glad the large table stood between them and there were three other people in the room. Because right now, with all of the foreign, overwhelming emotions bombarding her head and body, she could picture herself launching into his arms. Kissing him, stripping him naked, backing him onto the stairs and straddling him, riding him until they both came.
She didn’t want to want him. She didn’t want to care about him. He’d hurt her. Had walked away after their first kiss, leaving her confused when he went home with a prettier, taller, skinnier woman. If she allowed him to touch her again, she wasn’t sure if she could resist him, even if her mind knew having sex with him could be a huge mistake. And sex with Owen would be a disastrous mistake. He’d fuck her, then that would be it. Off to find the next conquest, no doubt a former or current beauty queen, or maybe a super model.
With that last thought in mind, she realized the entire room had gone silent and that she and Owen were locked in some sort of unspoken staring contest. Ignoring the heat burning her cheeks, she said, “Thank you for setting this up for us. It’s a big help.”
Eyes still on hers, he moved into the dining room. “Not for us, for you.” He broke eye contact and sat next to Walter.
“Real nice.” Walter nodded while wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Thoughtful.” He looked to Joy. “Don’t you think?”
Joy raised a brow. “It’s not like he brought her flowers. That’s thoughtful. But I guess it makes a statement.”
Oh. My. God. Seriously?
Rachel glanced at Jake, who had paused mid-bite, and had his eyes on her. “It kicks ass,” he said, then took a bite of his waffle.
“Yes.” Rachel took a seat. “What Owen did was thoughtful, made a statement and definitely kicks ass.” She met Owen’s gaze from across the table. “Thank you.”
“Where’d you find this stuff?” Walter asked as he added more syrup to his plate.
“I drove to the next county and found a twenty-four hour Wal-Mart.”
Holy crap. It had been around midnight when they’d gone their separate ways. For Owen to do all of this, he had to have only ended up with a few hours of sleep. Was this his way of apologizing for the mistletoe kiss? Then again, he looked as if she were talking Chinese last night when she’d told him his kisses had improved from the last time. Had the way she’d kissed been that forgettable? Or had he been drunk at the CORE Christmas party? She had tasted and smelled whiskey on his breath that night, but he hadn’t acted drunk.
Her mind spun with too many unanswered questions, while her hardened heart cracked with a tiny sliver of hope. Even before they’d come to Bola, Owen had been nothing but kind and considerate. Since they’d been here, he’d shown her compassion, patience and with what he’d done to the wall, he’d proven how well he knew her, that he’d paid attention to her wants and needs. Maybe last night’s kiss was his way of offering comfort after a long, stressful day. Or maybe she should stop thinking about all of this and focus her energy on what they had to do next.
Find Bill Baker.
Not hungry, but also unsure when they’d eat again, she picked up her fork. “Again, I really appreciate what you’ve done. I also have a few recipe cards to add to the board.” She went on to tell Owen and the others that they still were waiting on the DNA results from Sean’s clothes—which she expected today or tomorrow—plus they still needed the information the dean had promised regarding who had donated the security equipment that had coincidentally malfunctioned before Sean and Josh had been taken.
“Did you ask Jake if he might have something in the archives about the twenty-five-year old Hell Week?” Owen asked her.
“Twenty-five-year old Hell Week?” Jake repeated. “What are you talking about?”
“When Owen and I met with the dean yesterday we asked when and why Wexman initiated their no hazing policy. He told us the policy began twenty-five years ago, but wouldn’t give us a reason why.”
“Yeah.” Owen reached for his coffee mug. “He gave us a line of BS about not being able to discuss what had happened because of privacy issues. All he’d say was that some very bad things happen
ed.”
Jake arched a brow and shook his head. “If there’d been an arrest, it would’ve been public record…assuming the kids involved in this particular Hell Week were at least eighteen.”
“That’s what we thought,” Rachel said. She then told Jake what Percy, Walter and the others at the bar had said about the fire that had occurred in Bola the same night of the mysterious Hell Week drama that had started the no hazing policy.
“I remember that,” Joy said, and began gathering empty plates. “The whole dock caught on fire. Burned a few buildings to nothing, took out a handful of boats, too. I’d say seventy-five percent of the town was at the docks trying to put out the flames.”
“But do you remember hearing about something bad happening at the university around that same night?” Rachel asked.
“Sorry, no. But I do remember a bunch of students coming into town to help.” Joy paused and glanced at the wall. “It was late, around eleven when the fire broke out. We worked throughout the night and finally had it stopped by dawn. If anything else happened that week, I didn’t hear about it. All me and anyone else could think about was rebuilding the town.”
“I heard about the fire a few months after I took over as sheriff,” Jake said. “Never heard about anything bad happening at Wexman, though. Well, other than the Hell Week disappearances. I’ll call the office and have our receptionist dig through the archives when she has the time.” He looked at his watch. “Speaking of time…are you about ready to head out? The search party is meeting in about thirty minutes.”
Rachel wanted to ask Jake about Percy’s story regarding his grandmother, Ethel Rodeck. But he was right. They needed to leave, and she could ask him later. She stood and gathered her plate.
“Leave it,” Joy said. “I got this, you go find my nephew.”
Nodding, she raced up stairs to grab her coat, boots, hat and gloves. By the time she made it downstairs, the dining room was empty. As she slipped on her coat and headed for the foyer, she ran into Joy just outside the kitchen doorway.
“Put these hand warmers inside your gloves and boots. Make sure Owen does the same.” Joy handed her a small bag and two thick scarves that looked handmade. “Nothing pretty about chapped skin, so make sure you wrap your face up, same with Owen.”
“Thanks, Joy. I really appreciate it. I’m sure Owen will, too.”
“I think Owen would probably appreciate a better thank you than the one you gave him this morning,” Joy remarked as Rachel opened the front door.
Pausing, Rachel looked over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.
“You’re a smart woman, but apparently not too bright when it comes to men.” Joy held up a hand before Rachel could defend herself. “Let’s just hope you’re smart enough to figure out what the hell is going on in this town. I want my nephew home.”
*
Owen now understood the true definition of Joy’s eloquent phrase, “balls ass freezing.” Despite wearing heavy layers of clothing, every part of his body had begun to grow numb from the cold. And they’d only been exposed to the freezing temperatures for little over an hour. If Bill had survived crashing his car into the river, without proper shelter, Owen doubted he’d lasted through the night.
At least the cold and futile search for Bill had taken his mind off of Rachel. His boot sank into a snowdrift when he glanced in her direction. He swore under his breath as icy, wet snow slipped inside his boot. The snow and cold were miserable, the gray skies gloomy, and knowing the man they were searching for was likely dead…dismal and depressing as hell.
He looked at Rachel again just as she slid the scarf Joy had given her under her chin. After removing one glove, she wiped perspiration from her upper lip then blew out a stream of breath that caught on the frigid air and then quickly dissipated. Jake said something to her, and touched her shoulder. She nodded and smiled. As she replaced the scarf, she glanced his way. Their gazes locked. He thought about her lips, the way her breasts had pressed against his chest last night, how soft her skin had been when he’d gripped her hips.
Jake touched her shoulder again, then pointed to the left. She blinked and quickly turned away, then began following Jake’s new direction.
Fucking Jake.
As he trudged through the snow, he thought about all the different ways he could tell Jake exactly what he thought of him. When the wind kicked up with wicked intent, causing him to shield his eyes and then his head when a chunk of snow plopped from a pine tree, he realized Jake wasn’t the problem. The stubborn, caustic, sexy, sassy woman with killer curves was the issue.
She confused him, running hot one minute, then icy cold the next. He didn’t understand her. Didn’t understand what the hell she’d meant last night when she’d said the kiss had been a definite improvement over the last time. Last time? He’d been aching for the chance to kiss her and more for nearly four years. If he’d kissed her, he would’ve damn sure remembered. If Walter hadn’t been in the Lexus with them during their drive to the river, he would have asked her about her last time bullshit.
Last time my ass, he thought and scanned the open field they were approaching and the line of woods beyond it.
“Walter,” Jake called. “Let’s split up from here. Have your men fan out ten feet from one another and take them east toward the old state park hunting post. Call if you find anything.”
As Walter moved the six men he’d been leading, Jake had them continuing west. When they’d first arrived, they’d done another search near the river, checking the shoreline and the woods within one hundred yards of the water. When they’d found nothing, not even a single footprint, Jake had them split into two teams. They’d been walking for about twenty minutes and while he wasn’t sure how far they’d gone, he could no longer hear the rush of the river. Actually, with all the cawing crows flying overhead, he was lucky he could hear himself think.
Maybe that was a good thing. Because all he could think about was last night and Rachel’s cryptic parting remark.
Last time.
After she’d slammed the door in his face, he’d gone to his room. Between having sex on the brain and her sarcastic, confounding barb, he couldn’t sleep. Restless, horny and pissed, he’d left Joy’s. Initially he’d planned to go for a drive to clear his head. When he’d wound up in the next county and had spotted the Wal-Mart, he’d thought about Rachel’s frustration with not having the equipment she was used to back at CORE. He’d bought what supplies the store had, not as a peace offering—hell, he wouldn’t know what to apologize for anyway—and not as a way to charm her out of her yoga pants, either. He’d made those purchases because he’d wanted do whatever possible to help wrap up this investigation and go back to Chicago. Once home, Ian would give him a new assignment, hopefully a thousand miles away from Chicago, and he could put some distance between him and Rachel. She drove him crazy, and he could use the time away from her to figure out how to shake whatever hold she had over him.
“Everyone spread out in a line,” Jake called. “Once we cross this open field we’ll head into the woods.”
“The edge of the university property is about seventy-five yards through those trees,” Percy said and pointed to the woods in the distance. The bartender, along with about two-dozen Bola residents, as well as a handful of guys Bill worked with at the university, had also joined the early morning search party. “Do we need permission to continue the search once we hit that land?”
Jake looked over his shoulder. “I’m not worried about it, considering Bill works for them. Come on, let’s go.”
Fifteen blustering minutes later, they reached the woods. The naked trees and their thick trunks gave a small reprieve from the biting wind, but Owen suspected that wouldn’t last long. Another small clearing loomed in the distance, which meant they’d be out in the open again.
With the back of his gloved hand, he pushed his knit cap up a little to rub his throbbing temple. Exhausted, cold and irritated, he wanted the search
to end. He wanted to find Bill—alive—head back to Joy’s, take a hot shower, then sleep. Unfortunately, sleep would have to wait. After they finished with the search, he and Rachel had to head back to the university for a couple more interviews, then they’d likely visit Sean at the hospital. Plus, knowing Rachel, she’d probably have more busy work for him.
The ache in his temple grew just thinking about reading through more lists of names and all that other cross-referencing bullshit she had him doing last night. And he swore if those fucking crows didn’t stop all their squawking, either his head would explode or he’d pull out his gun and use the birds for target practice once they reached the next clearing.
“Damn.” Percy stumbled over a rotted log, then righted himself against a tree. “Look at the way those crows are circling.”
Owen dropped his head back and looked through the naked treetops. About a dozen or so black birds dipped and dove, but remained, eerily, in the same mid-air location. A chill swept through him that had nothing to do with the cold temperatures. He looked to Rachel who was about twenty feet from him. As she picked her way through the woods, she kept her eyes on the ground. Because she didn’t acknowledge what Percy had just said, he assumed she hadn’t heard him.
Taking advantage, Owen rushed to the bartender’s side. “Why would crows circle?”
Without pausing, Percy lifted a shoulder. “Probably feeding off a dead deer or whatever the coyotes could’ve left behind.”
He gripped the sleeve of Percy’s heavy-duty hunting coat, then glanced at Rachel, who continued to navigate the wooded terrain. “What about Bill?” he asked, keeping his tone quiet. If Bill ended up being the crows’ current meal, he didn’t want Rachel witnessing something so horrendous.
Percy jerked his head and stared at him, his eyes growing round with either understanding or horror. Owen couldn’t be sure which, and at this point it didn’t matter. Bill might not be the crows’ focus. The missing man might not be out here, period. “Sorry.” Owen let go of Percy’s sleeve. “That was morbid. I’m sure you’re right about the deer or whatever,” he said, even as his gut twisted with unease.
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