Shelby's Secret (Once a Marine, Always a Marine Book 4)

by David, Kori

  With no face.

  Chapter 2

  “Goddamn it. How did this get out so fast?” Mike threw a copy of the Arizona Republic across the room. The newspaper made an unsatisfying rustle as it sailed into the wall opposite his desk.

  He didn’t expect an answer as he vented about the age-old problem of leaks in the department. They’d been burned before when a vital piece of an investigation got leaked and their case went to shit, and someone else had died. The details had been kept out of the news for two whole days before this story.

  Detective Daniel Wolfe sat in the only other chair in the office, drinking coffee and wisely staying silent during the brief, but loud, moment of frustration. Wolfe was new to homicide, two weeks to be exact, having come over from burglary. Mike had assigned Wolfe to work the case with him. Daniel was thorough and got in his paperwork on time. Plus he’d had a very good streak of arrests during his time in burglary. This would be his first homicide.

  “I read the story this morning. Whoever their “source at the department” is gave them pretty much everything except the fact the victim was a replica of that country star’s video. Shelly Lynn?”

  “Shelby Lynn.”

  “Maybe those reporters don’t listen to country music and didn’t make the connection.”

  “Let’s hope they don’t. Where are you on the faceless vic?” Mike asked.

  “No I.D. yet, and her prints aren’t on file.”

  That didn’t mean much other than their victim hadn’t held any sort of government job, and she didn’t have a record. Mike just hoped it wasn’t a dead end.

  “I checked with missing persons to see if they had any females on their list that matched a general description of our vic,” Daniel said. “They’ll get back to me later today.”

  “I’m just waiting on a call from Casey about the autopsy,” Mike said.

  Wolfe looked down into his coffee.

  Mike knew he wasn’t thrilled about viewing the autopsy, but he’d done well at the warehouse. Everyone had left and Mike wanted to get Daniel’s initial thoughts. He’d turned an interesting shade of green, but he hadn’t lost his dinner and focused on the details, not the smell. Of course, his new detective had been a Marine once upon a time, so in Mike’s eyes, he was upholding a gold standard of performance by not blowing chunks all over the crime scene.

  He didn’t go around Semper Fi’ing, but he and Wolfe had a bond and they both knew it. Being a Marine was a brotherhood, and it always would be.

  “I’ll be ready when the call comes in. In the meantime, I’ll work on canvassing the area again for any homeless that might have seen something that night.”

  “Great. Also, start calling around to the wig shops. One of the lab techs called and said it’s real human hair, so the wig’s expensive. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and a shop owner will remember selling one recently.”

  Wolfe nodded. “I’ll get right on that.” He stood and turned toward the door just as the phone rang.

  “Hanson,” Mike answered and waved off Wolfe.

  “Hey, Mike, this is Amanda in Admin. The Chief needs to see you.”

  “What time?”

  “ASAP is what he said.”

  Mike felt an eye roll coming on. “I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  The line disconnected, and Mike flexed his shoulders. If the issue was about the damn story in the newspaper then Chief Howard would have to yell at someone else. No one in his department was dumb enough to leak info, and he could personally guarantee it. His people knew their lives wouldn’t be worth living if he found out they’d been talking to anyone.

  He finished his report before heading to the Chief’s office. Amanda was on the phone. She smiled and waved him on.

  Steven Howard had steadily moved up through the department over the last twenty years. This year would mark his third as Chief of Police. In general, he was a good guy and a good leader, even if Mike thought he kissed the City Manager’s ass a bit too much. He’d developed a taste for expensive cigars along the way, so the office held a lingering smell.

  “Glad you came, Mike. I have a problem.”

  “What can I do for you?” One thing he’d learned in both the Marine Corps and in police work—play dumb until you knew what the conversation was about. A copy of the paper sat on the desk between them.

  “Seems the press has access to details about the case.”

  Mike shrugged. “They usually manage it somehow.”

  “I’d like to find out who’s been talking,” he said, waving Mike to one of the empty chairs.

  The Chief wasn’t a yeller. His tone was conversational, almost as if they were co-conspirators as he looked over his polished wooden desk. Sitting forward, forearms resting on either side of the paper, he had an earnest look on his face that said, “If you tell me, we’ll be heroes together.” Mike admired the tactic, having used it himself a time or two. “I’d like to find out myself. This only makes my job harder.” He sat and didn’t say anything more.

  “You have some new people over in homicide. Anyone you’re worried about?”

  “Nope.” Mike sat back in his chair, totally relaxed. This was a waste of time, and they both knew it. Whatever was on the Chief’s mind, he wasn’t quite ready to share it.

  “I have a meeting in five minutes with the Mayor. I’d like you to come with me.”

  Now that was a surprise and faster than he’d expected the man to get to the point. “What’s it about?” Mike hated walking into something he wasn’t prepared for.

  “It’s a public relations thing, but it involves your case, so I’d like you there to consult.”

  “You know we can’t discuss an open case.” Mike kept his face blank, especially since he’d just been quietly reamed about the leak in the paper.

  The Chief was a very adept political player. Why he’d need a lowly Sergeant to consult was beyond him, but he’d go. He had political aspirations of his own, at least as far as making Chief himself at some point.

  “There might be new information, but the person involved is high profile.” He glanced at his gold Rolex. Another expensive habit he’d picked up since promoting to the top office. “And they should be in the conference room now.”

  Mike rose from his chair and followed his boss out. They rode the elevator down two levels to the large conference room. And Mike wondered who in hell could be important enough to warrant the Mayor’s and the Chief of Police’s presence just to gather some new info.

  ***

  Shelby sat in a plush chair in the middle of the long table that could easily fit twenty people. The main station of the Phoenix police department was not the most attractive building, but this conference room made up for the utilitarian structure. Madge stood against the far wall, posture ramrod straight and disapproval written across her face. She didn’t want Shelby out of the house and away from her security team. Shelby figured enough cops were in the building to mitigate any stress.

  “We just want your homecoming to be special,” the Mayor said. Again. As if he needed to keep saying it to prove the statement was true. He was a sweet man, who’d made her feel welcome and comfortable. In his fifties, John Nesbit was classically good looking with just a hint of gray at the temples of his blond hair.

  He’d been the one to call this meeting with the Chief of Police. Why he was involved wasn’t a mystery. She packed stadiums for her concerts and the revenue her three concerts would bring in was good business. After all, if those concerts didn’t happen, then millions of dollars in hotels, food, concert tickets and general spending in the great city of Phoenix would be lost.

  The door opened, and the energy in the room changed. The first man through was tall, with a severe haircut and a mustache that looked straight out of a seventies porn flick. Not that she’d ever seen one herself, but Madge was fond of pointing out said mustaches—and this one fit the bill. And where Madge got her info, Shelby didn’t ever want to kn
ow.

  The man immediately met the Mayor in the middle of the room to shake hands.

  What they said was lost on Shelby the moment the second man entered the room. He looked like a thug.

  The white, button-up, long-sleeve shirt just made his skin look darker and his shoulders wider. His hair was raven black and contrasted with hazel eyes that were a true hazel and changed color with his mood.

  He wasn’t a conventionally handsome man. His features were too rough for what society deemed good looking, plus his nose had clearly been broken a couple of times. But what he did as he gave her a quick once-over should’ve been illegal. Those eyes had started out a lighter green, but the longer they stayed on her, the darker they got.

  And when he made love—they’d turn emerald.

  She knew from experience.

  “Shelby Lynn,” he said in the sudden silence.

  His tone was faintly mocking and his face seemed made of stone, but only she heard the thread of humor. He’d been the one to suggest using her first and middle name only as her stage name. That had been more than fifteen years ago. When they’d been teenagers.

  “Mike.” Not Michael, and if anyone called him Mikey, they got their arm broken. Just Mike. Simple and plain. Unlike the man, who was anything but simple. Or plain.

  “Glad you remembered,” he said. Then he took up a position in the corner, back to the wall, facing the door, keeping everyone in view.

  Three pairs of eyes focused on her, and she was glad she’d stopped blushing years ago. Madge’s eyebrows were up in her hairline, and Shelby could tell she wanted to know what the hell had just happened, but would wait until they were alone. Small reprieve. The Mayor and the Chief merely looked quizzical.

  “You know each other?” This question was from the Mayor.

  “Ancient history,” Mike answered.

  Shelby couldn’t help the small stab that comment, and the dispassionate tone, caused. But she smiled at the Mayor, turned up the wattage, and said, “A lifetime ago.”

  The Chief cleared his throat and stuck out his hand to introduce himself while the Mayor took a seat. “Thank you for coming in, Ms. Collins. I can imagine your schedule is very busy, but we appreciate any light you can shed on this tragedy. Sergeant Mike Hanson is my lead homicide detective on the case. I’m sure he’ll have some questions as well.”

  “He can question us both,” Madge said. Her arms were crossed but she’d moved to stand directly behind Shelby’s chair. “I saw the email as well.” She threw a folded section of the newspaper on the gleaming conference table, all of them watching it slide toward Mike. “That story is what made Shelby determined to come in and talk about the email she received.”

  “We want to help,” Shelby said, quietly. Madge was a mother hen in action.

  “Tell me about the email,” Mike said.

  His gaze caught and held her. Something in her chest squeezed tight, because she hadn’t really ever expected to see him again. He was right—they were ancient history, and she needed to act like it. So she made her tone brisk as she described what happened two days prior. The email with the song, the dead woman in the swing, and the parallel to her very first video. She described what she could remember.

  Madge filled in the details.

  Shelby was proud of the fact her voice stayed even. She couldn’t be completely unemotional, because she wasn’t; it was too sad and too scary to pretend otherwise.

  “Why did you wait two days to report this?”

  Shelby looked up at her manager.

  “She wanted to call that morning.” Madge answered. “I sent her to bed because she hadn’t slept, and I went to look at the email again, to make sure it was what we thought it was.” She sighed and finally took a seat next to Shelby. “But it was gone.”

  “What do you mean it was gone?” Mike asked.

  “Just what I said. The email just wasn’t there. I have a friend who works I.T., and he said the email probably came with a sub-program that erased it within minutes of viewing.”

  “So you decided not to call police.”

  Shelby piped up. “I made that decision when Madge told me what happened.” She shrugged. “If Madge hadn’t seen it herself, I would have thought I’d just imagined it. I’d been without sleep for more than twenty-four hours at that point. My mind could have been playing tricks on me.”

  “Besides,” her manager said, “it’s not the first time, or the last time, someone will email or send something weird to Shelby. She’s an international superstar. It could have been a sick prank. Why waste your time?”

  Shelby glanced at Mike’s expression, but he wasn’t giving much away. They’d all heard the pride in Madge’s voice.

  “I’m sure you felt you did the right thing,” the Mayor said.

  The Chief stayed quiet—merely listening.

  Shelby fought the urge to squirm or chatter because the she felt awkward. She should have pushed for this meeting after the email, she knew it. But she hadn’t. “When I read the paper this morning, I could no longer convince myself it was just a sick prank. I’m so sorry if I’ve messed up the investigation.” She made eye contact with all three men─two nodded and one cocked his head to the side.

  “What else happened?” Mike asked.

  How the hell did he know? He couldn’t read her the way he used to. Could he? Too much time had passed, and she certainly couldn’t read anything in his enigmatic face. That pissed her off a little.

  She crossed her arms. It wasn’t a defensive move, there was a chill in the room. After all, she was there trying to help.

  “How could you possibly know there’s something else?”

  That question was from Madge, but Shelby couldn’t shake the feeling Mike knew her secrets. Which was silly. No one did.

  She nodded at Madge who pulled a large plastic bag out of her purse. Sealed within was a folded letter.

  “I’m afraid I touched it before I realized what it was,” Shelby said.

  “I’ll need your prints to match them up with the ones on the letter.” Mike never moved to touch the package himself. “Tell me what it says.”

  “They’re song lyrics,” she said. He was so business-like that it made her feel awkward. As if she were in trouble.

  “From a new song that Shelby has been working on,” Madge added.

  Shelby nodded. “No one has heard it but Madge.” She uncrossed her arms, resisting running her hands through her hair. It was a nervous tick and one she’d worked long and hard to eradicate because she was a public figure. The gesture didn’t look good in front of her fans or the paparazzi because it betrayed the fact that she was less than composed. “The last time I even worked on it was at my home in Tennessee.”

  “So you think this is a stalker?” Mike asked.

  “I don’t know what to think. I’ve dealt with everything from hate mail to having both male and female stalkers before, but the letters and appearances have been virtually harmless. Nothing like this has ever happened.”

  “How was it delivered?”

  This time Shelby couldn’t stop the small shiver. It was scary to think how close to home it was. “The envelope was slipped into my hairdresser’s purse while she was shopping.” Mike never shifted his gaze from her. She hugged her arms, unnerved.

  “And where was she shopping, Shelby?”

  “Three miles from the home we rented.”

  “You can rest assured, Ms. Collins, we will find who did this and make sure it doesn’t happen again,” The Chief said.

  His tone was firm and confident, and Shelby turned to smile at him, relieved to break the intense eye contact with Mike. “I appreciate that, very much. As does my staff.”

  “Why don’t I take Ms. Collins down and scan her prints?” Mike said, as he moved away from the wall.

  Madge started to stand, but Shelby put her hand on her thigh under the table to stop her. She wanted a moment alone with the man now standing in front of her. Madge shot her a look, whi
ch Shelby ignored, but stayed in her seat.

  “Good idea,” the Mayor said enthusiastically. “I’ll have to be off before you get back, Ms. Collins, but if either of you need anything, please call my office.”

  She nodded and followed Mike out into the hallway. The walk to the elevator was silent and continued that way to the basement. She found herself in a small room with a new machine that was waist high and looked a bit like a futuristic scanner. The days of an ink pad and roller were apparently over at the Phoenix Police Department. She turned to say something to the big quiet man behind her, but the glittering look in his eyes stopped her. He’d lost the poker face and what she saw was anger. The slow-build kind that lashed out from his expression.

  “You left without ever saying goodbye,” he said.

  His voice was soft, but she still flinched. “I didn’t think there was anything more to say,” Shelby replied. Her heart accelerated, like a small animal in the presence of a hunter. “We wanted different things, and neither of us was willing to bend.”

  “I might have compromised. Eventually.”

  Shelby shook her head. “Not back then. You had a path laid out and come hell or high water, you were following it. I had that same determination. What could I have said that would’ve changed your mind?”

  “I guess there wasn’t anything. But I deserved more than an empty room and no note.” He reached for her and spanned his hands around her much-smaller waist. “You didn’t even kiss me goodbye.”

  And then his lips were on hers.

  Chapter 3

  Mike had meant the kiss to punish. To somehow prove that he’d gotten over her fifteen years ago when she’d walked out on him. But the moment his lips touched her soft pink ones, he couldn’t be that guy. Couldn’t use what they had to hurt her that way.

  He’d walked into that conference room and been blindsided. Those cobalt blue eyes were the same, never done justice in her videos. The over-the-top curly ash blond hair that refused to straighten no matter what she did was the same. It was a little longer and highlighted, but still baby soft.