by Marlow Kelly
She groaned, and using every ounce of strength she possessed, she pulled her hands free and shoved him, telling him, without words, it was time to go. No matter how much she wanted him, she was still a mother, and she had responsibilities. Besides, she needed time to think. Yes, she wanted sex, but a relationship was a totally different thing. “You need to leave before we get carried away again. That would be bad.”
He gave her a slow, sexy grin, one that revealed his dimple. “No, it would be good, real good.” Then he waggled his eyebrows.
“How good would it be to have Logan walk in to find us doing it on the kitchen table?” They probably could fool around, but she needed time to decompress and deal with everything that had happened today before her son arrived home. They had things to discuss, and she didn’t want visions of sex with Tim to interfere with her concentration. Who was she kidding? The thought of trailing her hands over his taught, muscled buttocks would probably be distracting her all evening and into the night.
He did up his shirt, walked to the door, and grabbed the handle. She put her hand over his to stop him from opening it. She poked him in the chest. “The next time, if I start screaming, don’t stop me.”
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “Damn, I’m not going to get any sleep.”
She smiled as she closed the door after him. She might not know what she wanted, but playing with him and getting the last word was fun.
****
Dana stared at her son and his friend, a girl whose name she couldn’t remember. She’d tidied the kitchen, taken a shower and changed, emerging from her bedroom just as Logan came home. She forced herself not to look at the kitchen table, pushing her memories of sex with Tim aside.
“Mom, say something,” Logan insisted.
She couldn’t believe the difference Logan’s new haircut made. It was short at the sides, the top a little longer and gelled into blue spikes. “You’re so handsome.”
“Mom!” Logan blushed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, but it’s the truth.”
“So you like it?” the girl said. She was stunning with dark eyes and high cheekbones that hinted at a Native American heritage.
Dana held out her hand. “Hi, I know we’ve met, but I can’t remember your name.” The girl looked to be older than Logan, but Dana reserved judgment. Sometimes teenage girls seemed older than they were.
The young woman stared at the floor, obviously embarrassed. “I’m Mia Trahan. You’ve had my dad in the drunk tank.”
Dana smiled, hoping to put Mia at ease. “You’re not responsible for your father.”
“Yeah, my dad’s a druggie,” Logan added. “I mean he was a druggie. He’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.” Mia seemed genuinely distressed by Logan’s statement.
Logan shrugged. “It’s okay. I never knew him. He died of an overdose when I was a baby.”
“Did you cut Logan’s hair?” Dana said, changing the subject. Normally she didn’t mind talking about her choices as a teen. It gave kids hope to know they didn’t have to get everything right the first time. But she wasn’t in the mood to rehash her past, especially when there was so much happening in the present. She’d hoped taking a cold shower and changing her clothes would have helped her feel more balanced and less out of control, but they did nothing to rid her of the deep, elemental need that coursed through her veins. She wanted Tim again the way a drug addict wanted their next fix.
Mia nodded. “It was fun. He has good bone structure.”
“You did a great job.” Dana smiled as she tried to focus on the conversation.
“I’m hoping to study hairdressing. I’m trying to build my portfolio so I can get into a good school. I want to learn the latest techniques and get a job in one of the top salons. Then I’d like to open my own shop, but I need to learn the business first.” Her large oval eyes glowed.
“What grade are you in?” Dana asked. This girl was leaps and bounds ahead of Logan. She had a plan, an attainable goal.
“Eleven.”
“I wish I’d had my act together when I was your age. Could you cut my hair sometime?”
Mia tilted her head, viewing Dana’s hair from different angles. “Someone really did a number on you. Where did you go?”
“Jezebel’s in Granite City. They came highly recommended.”
Mia shrugged. “I’ll make a note not to apply there for a job. I don’t want to be associated with a bad stylist.”
Dana blinked. Even someone in grade eleven could tell she had a bad haircut.
Mia shucked off her backpack. “I have my scissors and your hair’s already wet. I could do it now. It won’t take long. I just need to tidy up the ends and even it out.”
Dana dragged a chair to the middle of the kitchen. “Okay.”
“How’d you feel about a pixie cut? You have a slim face, so you could carry it off.”
Dana sat in the chair. “Go for it.”
A few snips of the scissors later and Mia was done.
Dana felt her head. God, it was short.
Logan snapped a picture with his phone. “Here. It looks good.”
Dana examined the photo. It was shorter than she was used to, but it did look better.
Logan grabbed Mia’s hand. “I want to show her the mural I’m painting in my room, okay?”
Dana nodded. Was there something between Logan and Mia, or were they just friends? It was hard to tell. Damn. Logan knew the basics of sex. She’d badgered her father until he’d talked to him about it. If he got a girl pregnant, then he was going to have to take responsibility for his actions. Not like her ex. She made a mental note to have a little chat with him later. It was just so easy to get carried away.
Talk about the pot and the kettle. She was the one who’d lost control today with Tim. Damn it. No, it took both of them to have sex. He’d wanted it just as much as she had. She had to remember that. Plus, he’d said they were in a relationship. Umm, she wasn’t sure how much stock she could put in that. Wasn’t it true that men said things after sex to make a woman feel better? They needed to slow things down, if only for her peace of mind. She’d drive to his place tomorrow and have a chat with him. But first things first, she needed to call Mrs. Anderson and figure out what was going on with the police department.
Mrs. Anderson picked up on the first ring. “Hi Dana.”
“How’d you know it was me?”
“I have call display, dear.” Of course, she did. If there was one thing Dana should remember, it was that the retired teacher was as sharp as a butcher’s knife.
“I was wondering if you still wanted me to be the temporary police chief.”
“Oh yes, very much. Unfortunately, we can’t find the mayor or Booley to inform them of our decision.”
“They’re both still missing?”
“Yes.”
“Have you informed the police?”
“I’m doing that right now.”
Dana smiled. “Okay…I meant Officer Robinson. He’s a top rate policeman, and I have absolute faith in his abilities.”
“That’s good to know.” Mrs. Anderson obviously wanted Dana to take the lead.
“I’m happy to help, but you do understand that I quit. I don’t have a badge or a weapon. Technically, I need to be sworn in again.”
“And we need the mayor for that,” Mrs. Anderson added. “You see our problem, don’t you?”
“I do. I’ll call Xavier now.”
She put down the phone. So two out of the three people who’d been present at the scene of Ben’s homicide had disappeared. Could their disappearance have anything to do with Ben’s death, or were they simply reacting to last night’s meeting?
She strode to the kitchen table. Magazines and newspapers were piled neatly on one side. She opened her laptop and typed in devil’s breath. A list of articles appeared on the screen. She clicked the first one, opening it. A member of the scopolamine family, it was made from the seeds of the angel’
s trumpet, technical name brugmansia. There was a photo of a beautiful shrub with flowers in white, gold, and pink. The rest of the article just repeated what Detective Ramirez had told her, including the fact that it was predominately found in Columbia.
She did another search, typing brugmansia and Montana. The plant didn’t grow wild in Montana but was distributed worldwide as a houseplant.
She just couldn’t see Booley poisoning Ben. Levi Booley was a bullyboy pure and simple. He would shout, beat, and berate someone, but those traits didn’t require any skill, thought, or subtlety. Of course, blowing devil’s breath into Ben’s face didn’t require a lot of technical know-how either. How close would you have to be? Within a foot? Two feet? She couldn’t see a crotchety old man like North allowing Booley within ten yards, let alone two feet. The same could be said of the mayor, especially when she considered he was Third Estate Mining’s biggest supporter.
She slammed her laptop shut, opened the dishwasher, and started filling it with the dishes from the sink. It was stupid of her to want to solve Ben’s homicide. She didn’t have access to all the facts. Plus, she had enough on her plate, taking over the police department and dealing with Logan. The truth was she was looking into the investigation to avoid thinking about a tall sexy ex-Ranger who, up until yesterday, she had suspected of killing Aunt Alice.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ethan Moore stared at the man in the white hat. Ethan had changed his appearance since the last time they’d met. He’d been pretending to be a protester then. But his mission was to cause a disturbance and give the environmentalists a bad name.
Since then he’d shaved his beard and wore a blue top-of-the-line suit, coupled with a white well-cut shirt and a Hermes tie. His rough, worn-in hiking boots were the only exception to his business attire. But he had a pair of Dolce & Gabbana shoes in his Jeep, which was parked on one of the trails at the bottom of the mountain.
Booley looked like an old-time cowboy instead of the police chief of a one-horse town. His cigarette glowed in the twilight. Soon it would be completely dark. Ethan smiled at the Chief’s stupidity. Most people meeting a stranger for the first time, especially when negotiating blackmail, would have chosen a public place. But this idiot had picked Molly’s Mountain.
Ethan’s hand itched to pull his knife from its scabbard. He wanted to slice at the old man’s flesh, watch his skin split neatly open and blood spurt from the wound.
“What can I do for you?” Ethan wondered if Booley would recognize him. He wanted to give the impression he was the personal assistant to a billionaire.
“It’s what I can do for you that’s important.” Booley took a last puff from his cigarette and then extinguished it under his foot.
“And what is that?”
“Paul Harris thinks he’s smart, but I know he forged the deed to Molly’s Mountain.”
“That’s quite an accusation. Can you prove it?” Ethan wondered if this was a waste of his time.
Booley pulled an envelope from his pocket and shoved it into Ethan’s hand.
There were bank statements, photocopies of yellowed documents, a glossy photo of Harris and Lucy Portman naked in what was presumably the mayor’s bed, and a picture of Lucy Portman, Mayor Harris, and Lance Ackerman having dinner together. “What am I looking at?”
“Proof that Harris didn’t pay Ben for the mineral rights, and that he and your boss have been meeting to discuss Molly’s Mountain.”
“This means nothing. Ackerman’s an influential man. He meets people. This get-together was in a restaurant. There’s nothing cloak and dagger about it. As for the rest, I think if the mayor had committed a crime and faked some documents, then you should take the matter up with him,” Ethan said, not caring if the chief liked it or not. His job was to gather any evidence that could lead back to Ackerman, kill Booley, and plant the knife on Morgan.
Booley rubbed his hands along his thighs, revealing his uncertainty. Ethan wanted him to make his pitch. He would let Booley think a deal could be made. Then, at the last moment, when the Chief thought he’d succeeded, Ethan would take his life. It wouldn’t be quick. He wanted to enjoy the shock in his eyes, then the despair, and finally acceptance as his life slipped away.
“I’ll go to the police with what I have,” Booley spat. His hands curled into fists, clearly showing his anger and frustration.
“I doubt that.”
“Are you prepared to take that chance? North was murdered. Something like this will add Ackerman to the pool of suspects.”
Ethan suppressed a smile. “What do you want?”
“A million. That’s not much money to your boss, but it’s enough for me to start a new life.”
“I’ll need all your devices, everything you’ve got.” This point was non-negotiable. Once the Chief was dead, the authorities would go through his electronics looking for clues.
“I only have a laptop and a phone. I can’t get the computer until tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow it is. Meet me here at noon.” Ethan headed for the trail that would lead to his car. Soon he would get to slice his knife into human flesh.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dana nursed her cup of coffee and hummed with appreciation as she sat at the desk she shared with Xavier. The first cup of the morning always tasted the best. She wore her jeans, a T-shirt, her leather jacket, and runners, not her police uniform. Booley was a jerk, but she wouldn’t take his place until he’d been fired and had a chance to collect his stuff. Besides, the mayor was still missing, so she couldn’t be sworn in.
Xavier slumped into a chair opposite her. Large, dark circles shadowed his eyes.
“When was the last time you slept?” Dana took another sip of her coffee. She hadn’t slept much herself, but that was because she kept picturing Tim pressing her up against the fridge and then taking her on the table.
“I’ve had some naps here and there.” His voice was flat and dull.
“It’s been too long,” Shelly called without looking up from the report she was entering into the police computer.
“When was the last time you were home?” Dana asked.
“I get home every day to shower, but I haven’t slept in my bed since Friday.” He rubbed a hand over his face.
“Damn, Xavier. You shouldn’t even be driving, let alone walking around with a gun.”
“Send him home,” Shelly added. She was much more verbal now that Booley was gone.
Xavier closed his eyes and then forced them open. “I’m not arguing with you. Are you back?”
“Unofficially, I’ve been asked to take over as interim chief.”
“About time,” Shelly added.
He grinned. “I was called into a council meeting. They asked me how I felt about it.”
“What did you say?” Dana was intrigued. The town council hadn’t interviewed her, which struck her as odd. But then again, she’d been out of town all day yesterday so maybe they would sometime in the future.
“I told them if they kept Booley, I was looking for another job. If you were chief, I’d stay.” Xavier tapped a finger on the desk to make a point.
“Thank God for that.” It was good to know she had his support, but then she’d suspected she would. He was a young, idealistic cop. There was no way she could see him putting up with a corrupt chief. She pushed her mug aside. “Before I send you home to sleep, I want to talk about Booley and Mayor Harris.”
“They’re missing,” he stated.
Shelly stood and walked over to join them. “There was a voicemail from Detective Ramirez saying he wanted to speak with the mayor regarding Ben’s homicide.”
Xavier’s eyes widened, the news making him more alert. “Really?”
“He was at the crime scene when I got there,” Dana added.
“You think he shot the dead body?” Xavier had obviously been appraised of the ME’s report.
Dana shrugged. “There were three people at the cabin, and any one of them could have shot the body
, or it could’ve happened before they arrived like they said. But I can’t imagine Booley or Harris getting close enough to administer the poison.”
Xavier nodded. “I see your point. Ben was an ornery old man. You’d do him a favor and chase trespassers off his land, and you wouldn’t even get a ‘thank you.’ He’d just slam the door in your face.”
“He was a little nicer to me—”
“Ben had a softness for women.” Shelly stood in front of them with her hands on her hips. “When he first came home from Vietnam, he had a string of girlfriends before he finally settled down.”
“Really?” Dana was shocked. It was hard to believe the old man had been a womanizer. Then another question occurred to her. “What do you mean by ‘settled down’?”
“He started seeing one woman.”
Xavier rested his elbows on his knees. “But he never married?”
“She was already married and wouldn’t divorce her husband,” Shelly said.
Dana stood and pointed to Shelly to take her seat. “When was this?”
Shelly made herself comfortable, her short, round legs not reaching the floor. “The late seventies, maybe early eighties.”
Dana paced to the closed door of Booley’s office and then swung around to face them. “We need to track down Ben’s girlfriend and her husband.”
Shelly put a finger to her lips, thinking. “If I tell you this, it has to be in confidence. It can’t go in any police report.”
Dana strode back to the desk. Her thoughts were clearer when she walked. “I can’t promise. It might have a bearing on the case.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It might,” Xavier added.
“Okay, just don’t write it down for now,” Shelly pleaded. “For me.”
“Tell us.” Dana started pacing again.
“Victoria Anderson.” Shelly put a hand to her mouth, seemingly shocked by her own words.
Dana gasped. Mrs. Anderson, the retired schoolteacher, who’d told her off for swearing, had been having an affair with Ben. “How do you know?”
