Last Shot at Justice (A Thomas Family Novel Book 1)

by Kristi Cramer

  “Sure it does. I’m a cowboy, not a hippie.”

  Mitzi smiled, deciding that maybe this “linebacker” wasn’t as slow as she had supposed.

  Watching him pour water into the percolator and measure coffee grounds, she appreciated the precision with which he did things. Nothing spilled, no excessive tapping of the spoon on the basket, lighting the stove with just one match. He may look like a monster with his bulky frame, she thought, but he moves with deliberate purpose and grace.

  Realizing she was staring, she stowed her purse on the corner made by the back cushions of the bench, keeping it and the Mosquito close at hand, then wrestled her jacket off. Before she could wonder what to do with it, Blue was there, holding out his hand. She handed the coat to him and he hung it on the door hook, over the top of his, then perched his hat on top of that.

  He turned to lean against the sink counter, and she realized there really wasn’t room for them both to sit without getting in each other’s personal space. He didn’t look at her, rather stared at the coffee pot as if willing the water to boil.

  “Do you mind if I turn on the TV?” she asked into the latest awkward silence. “I want to see....” She cleared her throat.

  “See if you made the news?” he asked wryly, filling in her thoughts.

  “Something like that.”

  Blue took the remote off the shelf and turned on the TV, then handed it to her before turning back to get mugs out of the cupboard. “Do you take cream and sugar?”

  She almost laughed and said, I’m a cop, of course I take it black, but she stopped herself in time. “Black is fine.”

  She slid across the bench toward the door, then turned the corner so she could face the TV. Studying the remote for a moment, she recognized it as a standard universal remote and pressed the guide button to see what kind of channels he had access to.

  A discreet cough made her look up at Blue, who was looking up at the ceiling. She glanced down to see that her outfit was doing just what it was supposed to do. The tattered gray silk tank top revealed about as much of her chest as it could without exposing her completely, and the cut-off black jean skirt was showing off an ample amount of thigh above her boots, too. Not to mention the outfit was still plenty wet, clinging to her curves even more than usual. No wonder the poor cowboy kept referring to her as a hooker.

  She cleared her throat. “Say, do you have a shirt or something I can borrow? My dress is soaked through.”

  “No kidding,” he replied, and practically dove at the closet by the sleeping loft. He opened it and pulled out a neatly folded shirt. As he shut the door, the reflection in the full length mirror hanging on the inside of the door showed her more shirts and jeans stacked inside, making the most of the small storage space.

  “I’ll just step outside while you change,” he said, opening the door after handing her the shirt.

  “But it’s still raining,” she protested.

  “Good. I could stand to cool off a little.”

  Mitzi was torn between laughter and shame, and as soon as he was out the door she quickly slipped out of the dress and into the long-sleeved, button-down shirt. She was oh-so grateful to unzip and remove her knee-high boots.

  Taking advantage of his absence, she opened the bathroom door. It was clean, as he had said, but nothing more than a stool. She made quick use of it, then closed the door and washed her hands at the sink.

  Searching her purse for a comb, she stood at the mirror and tried in vain to do something with her stringy hair, but only just managed to get the tangles out. Her curls refused to do anything but dangle limply around her face.

  ⋘⋆⋙

  Blue shut the door behind him and tipped his head up to the sky, letting the raindrops hit his face as he struggled to erase the image of that woman in that dress. Goodness, but she was a test of a man’s restraint. Not that he was given to ravishing strange women in his camper, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alone with anyone dressed in that kind of un-dress.

  And it didn’t help that she was built just how he liked a woman to be built, with enough of her to really grab hold of. She wasn’t a wisp or a stick or a wilting flower; her arms and legs had firmly muscled lines, and the rest of her had shapely curves. In his mind, she was a perfect combination of softness and strength.

  It seemed like no time at all before he heard her call out that she was decent. He took a moment to scrub at the raindrops on his face in an effort to clear his mind before opening the door to go back inside.

  What he saw inside was almost as tempting as her little black dress, but for all kinds of different reasons. Seeing her in his shirt, which fit her more like a proper dress, gave the moment more intimacy than he could have imagined. Those ridiculous high-heel boots were off, and she had tucked her feet up beside her on the bench, so he could still see her knees and bare toes. Sleeves rolled up to her elbows, she leaned on the bench back with one arm while the other hand used the remote to scan through channels.

  As he closed the door behind him, she looked up and smiled absently, sensuous lips curving in a crooked line. He caught his breath. Lord have mercy, he thought.

  Then the news came on, and he all but forgot about what he had been looking at.

  “To recap our top stories tonight,” the newscaster was saying, “Leigh Ann Wharton, daughter of Denver’s Mayor Wharton, is still missing, and foul play is suspected. It has been nearly thirty-six hours since anyone last saw her, and the Mayor is pleading for anyone who knows of her daughter’s whereabouts to come forward to help.

  “In other breaking news, a woman was found shot to death on 16th Street near Union Station an hour ago. The police are not disclosing any details this early in the investigation, but a source close to the department let slip that Internal Affairs has been on the scene, and that an undercover policewoman is missing. We’ll have more on this story as the investigation continues....”

  Blue turned startled eyes on the woman sitting at his table, seeing her in a whole new perspective. In the space between one breath and the next, the air in the tiny room filled with tension so thick he could put a brand on it.

  While she watched him, she put the TV on mute.

  “That answers a lot of questions,” he commented at last, pouring coffee into one of the coffee mugs on the counter and handing it to her.

  “Like what?” she asked in a cautious tone as she took the mug from him. “A woman is dead. A cop is missing. Sounds like more questions to me.”

  “Well,” he drawled slowly. “If you aren’t a prostitute, like you say, then I’m guessing you’re the ‘missing’ policewoman.” She didn’t respond to his theory, but he knew he was right. “Even a dumb cowboy like me can put one and one together and get twins. Why don’t you check in with headquarters or whoever? Why can’t you tell me what is going on?”

  She took a sip of coffee, staring at him over the cup’s rim as if trying to judge how much to tell him. He noted the liquid in the mug quivering before she abruptly set it down.

  “I’m in danger, Blue, and that means you are too. If I tell you what little I know, then they’re just as likely to try to kill you too. I can’t have that on my conscience, can I?”

  The plaintive tone of her question belied the toughness of the rest of her words, confirming for Blue that she was scared. More scared than she wanted to let on.

  “Look....” He rubbed the back of his neck, realizing he didn’t even know her name. “What’s your name?”

  She frowned and shook her head. “Just call me Mitzi.”

  “Well, look, Mitzi. Like it or not, I have been in just as much danger since I left the bar with you. It won’t matter to them what I know or don’t know. Whoever ‘they’ are, if they’re willing to kill you, a cop, they won’t hesitate to kill a dumb cowboy from out of state.”

  She considered a few moments longer. “I’m so sorry I got you involved. One of the first things we learned at the Academy is never to put civilians in harm’
s way. I knew I was putting you at risk. I made a bad call.”

  “My daddy always said you can’t put milk back in the cow. Just have to move forward. Tell me what you know, and I’ll see how I can help.”

  Mitzi sighed, and Blue noticed the hand holding the remote was shaking. She saw it in the same instant and quickly set the remote down on the table. “That man who bumped into us on the street, then tried to get me out of your truck?” Blue nodded in response. “He was with a man when Babs got shot. I’m pretty sure they were shooting at me. If I hadn’t dropped my lighter....”

  She turned frightened eyes toward him, and he moved closer, not sure how to comfort her. He sat on his heels in front of her and put his fingers on the back of her hand, the way he might touch the nose of a skittish horse. “Who was the other man?”

  She bit her lower lip before answering. “My boss. Police Chief Winston Hatfield.”

  Chapter Four

  Mitzi watched Blue rock back on his heels when she said out loud the biggest puzzle of all. She spilled out the rest of her fear before she could stop. “I know he knew it was me. I know he knew I recognized him. But it doesn’t make any sense. I haven’t got the slightest clue why he would want to kill me.”

  She shook her head, confused by it all but striving to conquer her fear. “I’ve been on a pretty basic vice mission, undercover as a pro, catching johns, the usual. I don’t call any shots. I just get johns to proposition me. Justin, my partner, comes in and reads them their rights. Haven’t even had any high-profile busts. In fact, the whole program is in complete transition because of the Mayor’s new focus on crime prevention rather than punishment.”

  “Where was your partner tonight?” He stood up from his crouch and went to the counter to pour a mug of coffee.

  “Good question,” she said, appreciating how he focused on the core issues. “He was supposed to be watching me. 16th Street isn’t a place you want to be without backup. He should have sent me a text if he got called away, or called me, or come by. The other working girls know him as my pimp, Vic. I’m a little worried that something may have happened to him, too.”

  “Can you call him?” Blue took a sip of coffee and made a face, looking up at the sad little electric wall clock before setting the mug back on the counter.

  “I don’t want to risk it just yet. I don’t want to get tracked here. We’ll lay low tonight, and tomorrow I’ll go find a payphone somewhere.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Mitzi didn’t miss the emphasis he put on the word “we.” She rubbed her face, wishing once more she had a cigarette.

  “Well, the first thing I have to do is find out why anyone would want to kill me. I know I haven’t done anything. I have to figure out what someone might think I have done, or thinks I know that would be a risk to a cop. Once I know why I’m marked, then I’ll know Chief Hatfield’s motive for silencing me.” She watched the mute commercials for a moment, considering.

  “He obviously has more irons in the fire than just public safety. I’ll have to trace back everywhere I’ve been, everyone I’ve talked to, and everyone I’ve seen, and start putting pieces together. I’m a detective. I just have to investigate this as if I were the suspect instead of the victim.”

  Blue crossed his arms in front of him. “How can I help?”

  “I honestly don’t know, Blue. I hate it that I didn’t figure out a way to keep you from getting involved, and I don’t plan on putting you in any further danger. I already owe you for some repairs on your truck....”

  “You’re not fixin’ to give me the boot, are you?” he asked in a level tone that caused her to glance at the muscular arms exposed by the short sleeves of his close-fitting t-shirt. That kind of strength and presence could sure be useful to her, but she had to at least try to resist.

  “What would you have me do? Hang you out there to twist in the wind with me?”

  Blue frowned. “All I know is I’m not letting you out of my sight until this thing is over.”

  “Blue....”

  “No arguments. Where I come from, we don’t leave folks to fend for themselves in a tight spot. Even if all I do is put the squeeze on someone for you, or whatever you call it. Or watch your back while you retrace your steps. Or...or hypnotize you to remember every detail from the last month. I’m going to do what I can to keep you safe.”

  “What did you just say?”

  “I’m going to keep you safe.”

  “No, before that, about hypnotism. Why would you suggest that?”

  He shrugged. “Seems like I read somewhere, or saw in a movie how someone got hypnotized to remember something they didn’t know they knew. I’m just grasping at straws. I got nothin’ otherwise.”

  “Well, that might not be a bad idea.” Mitzi paused to consider. “Don’t laugh, but I actually went to see a hypnotherapist about six months ago, for help to stop smoking. It was actually working. The hypnotist said I was easy to work with. But when I went undercover, I fell back into old ways, trying to fit in.”

  Mitzi’s mind raced with the idea that she might be able to recall something that might prove to be a clue in this mess. “I’ll look him up in the morning.”

  “And I’ll go with you,” said Blue. “What are we going to do about wheels? Even I know we can’t run around town in my truck with bullet holes and a bent tie rod.”

  “I’ll think of something,” she said, suddenly feeling very tired.

  “You cold at all?” Blue asked abruptly. “I know the stove got the place pretty warm, and the loft gets pretty toasty, but I can turn on the heat if you want.”

  “I want to stay up and watch the news, Blue. Why don’t you go ahead and go to bed? I’ll be fine down here.”

  “Well, let me get you a blanket at least.” He drew back the curtain to the sleeping loft and pulled down a soft fleece blanket and a pillow. “You sure you don’t want to sleep up here?”

  Mitzi waved her hand at him before pulling the blanket out of his. “I probably won’t sleep, so don’t put yourself out.”

  “Momma would have my hide...,” he began, but she interrupted him.

  “Go on to bed, Blue. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He frowned at her for a long moment before he reluctantly turned away. Watching him pull off his boots before climbing up into the loft, Mitzi realized this guy was the real thing, a real cowboy. He was fit, muscular, and didn’t appear to have an ounce of fat on his sturdy frame.

  “Blue?” she asked.

  He paused in the act of drawing the curtain. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Why are you here in Denver?”

  “Looking for work,” he said. “I had this idea that I could get odd jobs from folks at the 8-Ball, and something would pan out into something a little more permanent. I don’t have time to jump through all the hoops down at the employment office.”

  “No work in Syracuse, huh?”

  “Plenty of work on my daddy’s ranch, but no money. He’s behind on payments, and the bank is ready to take it away.” The gaze he leveled on her was determined. “I had to do something.”

  “You’re a good man, Blue.”

  “I try to be, ma’am. I sure try to be.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “’Night.” Blue closed himself in behind the curtain and she heard him shuffling around, apparently undressing. Mitzi realized that was yet another way she was inconveniencing this kind stranger. It must be difficult for someone his size to do anything other than sleep up in that loft.

  Mitzi turned her attention back to the TV, turning on the captions so she wouldn’t disturb Blue any further.

  The news cycle started up again for the eleven o’clock hour, and she watched carefully for anything new, but the story was the same. Dead woman, missing cop. No details.

  Pulling the blanket closer around her, Mitzi curled up and leaned the pillow against the wall, watching captions go by and listening to rain on the roof and the growling rattle of the refrigerato
r.

  ⋘⋆⋙

  Blue woke at the first suggestion of light creeping around the shade of his bedroom loft, puzzled to find he had misplaced his pillow, and apparently his blanket too. The only thing covering him was a thin sheet. He put his hand out to pat the mattress, searching for the blanket before he remembered why he was short on bedding.

  He rolled over and drew back the curtain quickly, looking down to see that she was still there. Damsel in distress. Policewoman. Mitzi.

  Blue watched her for a few moments while she slept, curled up in an awkward position on the corner of the bench cushions. She had taken the table top down off the post, but apparently hadn’t figured out how to make it into a proper bed.

  The light from the TV flashed on her pale face where her head lay against the pillow, tilted to the side. One hand, still holding the remote, was visible on top of the covers.

  Her hair had dried to a mass of shoulder-length brown curls that framed the smooth features of her face. Fine eyebrows softly defined the line of her brow above thick lashes growing from eyelids that sported just a hint of rose-gold shadow, and round cheeks smudged with a slightly lighter shade of blush. Those sweet cherry lips looked very kissable, slightly parted in sleep as they were, and Blue abruptly looked away.

  Reaching out, he opened his clothes cupboard as quietly as possible and pulled out a clean pair of jeans, then shifted around so he could pull them on. Checking to see that he had not disturbed Mitzi, he slid his legs over the edge of the loft and eased himself to the cool floor.

  Although he nervously watched over his shoulder, his quick trip to the bathroom closet still did not disturb her. After he washed his hands, he tiptoed over to slip the remote out of her hand and pull the blanket a little higher around her. She didn’t even shift in her sleep, and he paused for a moment to watch her. He had no idea how long Mitzi had been sleeping, and they hadn’t discussed a timetable for starting the day.