by Rita Herron
CHAPTER SIX
Marci’s emotions pingponged like a yoyo. Fear mingled with the sickening feeling of being violated.
“Who did this?” Kim whispered.
“The cops probably searched the place,” Austin said.
The cops?
Detective Muller’s handsome, dark-stubbled face flashed in her mind. Sexy or not, having a badge didn’t give him the right to paw through her house and tear it up like an animal.
She saw a red negligee hanging over the side of her chest of drawers and grimaced. He certainly had no right to look through her underwear.
Furious, she glanced around for her purse and cell phone. “Did you get my things from the country club, Kim?”
Kim averted her eyes. “I’m afraid the police took them, sis.”
“They took my purse?” Granted it was a knockoff Luis Viton but she’d paid fifty dollars for it!
“Yes,” Kim said. “When I went back to the bridal room, they were searching through your wallet.”
So they’d found her emergency stash of extra large neon condoms. Detective Muller probably got a real kick out of that.
“And my phone?”
“The phone, too,” Kim said. “They said they had to log it into evidence.”
Evidence to pin a crime on her. One she hadn’t committed.
Did that irritating mule-headed cop even care if she was innocent? Or did he just get his kicks my manhandling and locking up women?
What had his mama done to him to make him hate women so much?
His nana had her money stolen, a little voice reminded her.
Well, hell, so he was protective of one female. Maybe he only cared about women once they hit their golden years…
Furious, Marci stormed through the apartment taking note of everything that had been tossed and torn apart. Her underwear was scattered on the floor, silk blouses bunched in piles, her waitress uniform in shreds. Her other clothes had been ripped from hangars, some of them turned inside out as if someone had been searching for something sewn inside the damn hems.
And her shoes – she’d carefully organized, stored and stacked them according to season, color and style.
Every box had been opened, the shoes dumped on the floor, the sling backs mixed with the pumps, the pumps throw in with the stilettos. One red heel thrown in with a black sandal. Her pink flats in two separate boxes.
A travesty.
And the worst, someone had slashed her mattress so the stuffing was pouring out like chicken feathers.
Kim moved up behind her. “I’m so sorry, Marci.”
“Give me your phone, Kim,” Marci said.
“Now, sis,” Kim started. “Take a deep breath.”
Marci held out her hand, palm up. “Your. Phone. Now.”
Kim tugged her cell phone from her handbag and slid into her hand. “Please, sis, I know you’re upset, but you need to be careful. You don’t want that detective to haul you back in to jail.”
Marci ignored her and stabbed the number for the police department. Seconds later, she asked to be put through to Detective Muller.
“Miss Turner,” the man said in that gruff voice that probably charmed some women out of their pants. “Did you call to confess?”
“No. I called to ask you why you tore my apartment apart. Did you get some sick pleasure out of scattering my underwear across the floor?”
A tense second passed, then Detective Muller cleared his throat. “Your apartment was searched, but I was there. Your things were not torn apart.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Marci shouted. “I’m standing here looking at my clothes and shoes. You left my mattress on the floor. And someone ripped it open with a knife.”
Another tense second passed then Detective Muller sighed. “Are you alone?”
“No, my sister and brother-in-law are here.”
“Stay put,” he said. “And don’t touch anything. I’ll be right over.”
“No— ”
But the detective didn’t wait. He hung up on her!
Crap! She just wanted to vent her rage. She didn’t want the blasted man to come over!
*~*~*~*
Detective Muller’s pulse clamored as he headed to his car. Unless Marci was exaggerating, which was entirely possible since he’d pegged her as a drama queen early in his investigation, someone had broken into her place after the police had searched it. Granted the police had made a bit of a mess but slashing mattresses hadn’t been part of the process.
Of course if they’d been looking at a junkie they would have.
Although they had felt underneath the mattress to see if there were any unusual lumps or seams in case Marci had stashed money inside, but hadn’t noticed anything worthy of further scrutiny.
He punched in Georgia’s number as he peeled from the parking lot and headed toward Marci’s apartment. “Georgia, did ballistics find anything unusual on those bullets?”
“No,” she said. “Came from a .38 but didn’t match any recent crimes we have in the system.”
He muttered something low in his throat. “I’m headed to Marci Turner’s apartment.” He explained about her phone call. “Could be the shooter so I’m going to have a crime unit search for prints.”
“Yeah, or it could be one of the hundreds of people Pendergrass conned. Maybe they thought Marci hid some of their money in her apartment.”
“Or maybe they’re like us. They think she knows where Pendergrass went and want the information so they can find him,” Cade said.
Georgia chuckled. “You know if we wait long enough, maybe a group of the old timers will track him down and do our jobs for us.”
Cade laughed as he imagined the seniors beating Pendergrass with their canes and walkers. “Would serve him right.”
“You gonna stake out her place tonight?” Georgia asked.
Cade grimaced. “Yes, I have to.”
“Do you need some company?” She lowered her voice. “Don’t want her hypnotizing you with that little tush of hers so you forget why you’re there.”
Little? Hmm. An image of Marci’s sexy tush flashed in his mind. It was actually plush and curvy which he found a whole lot sexier than those girls that ate like rabbits and had bodies of bones.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve been chasing Pendergrass too long to let anything distract me from finding him.”
Even the voluptuous Marci Turner.
“Good. Then I’ll keep going down the list of victims. So far, three of the women I’ve talked to still believe Pendergrass is a sweetheart. That he’s not only innocent, but that he’s a saint who’d saved them from a tragic nursing home and ensured them they’ll live their golden years sipping martinis. Another vic’s husband’s hands are too far gone with arthritis to hold a gun steady, and I talked to one ex who said it was his wife’s money and that she deserved to lose it for thinking she was a cougar and flirting with a younger man.”
Cade shook his head and turned off Peachtree Street into Marci’s apartment complex. Most of the apartments in Midtown had security, but hers was an older building that looked as if it needed repairs and the only security was a set of cameras that the police discovered hadn’t worked in a decade.
Of course, she lived here on her waitressing salary.
No wonder she’d jumped at whatever deal Pendergrass had offered.
Even marriage if it she’d thought it meant that Buckhead mansion came with it.
He parked in between an SUV and her sister’s mini-van, then climbed out and strode toward the metal staircase leading to her apartment. Overgrown bushes crowded the corner by the staircase, making him antsy. Why the fool woman had chosen a back unit in the corner escaped him.
There were at least a dozen places for rapists and stalkers to hide.
He automatically scanned the area, senses honed for anything out of place. A dog barked somewhere nearby, and music blared from a beat-up Chevy in the parking lot. Frowning, he climbed the steps, his shoes clacking
on the cheap metal steps.
A man’s whistle echoed below him, and he glanced down and spotted someone in a hoody heading around the corner, the tip of a cigarette butt glowing.
Assuming it was a teen sneaking a smoke, he checked his weapon, tugging his jacket over it, then knocked on Marci’s door. The blinds on the front door were wide open, giving anyone who wanted to spy on her the perfect opportunity. Marci’s brother-in law was pacing, his cell phone to his ear.
He knocked again, and a second later an eyeball peered through the door, then the door opened. Kim stood on other side, hands on her hips, her eyes pinning him with contempt. “I told her not to call you.”
“If someone broke in, she needed to report it,” he said. “Or have you forgotten that someone shot at your sister and her fiancé last night?”
Her face paled as his words registered, making him feel like a heel.
Marci slipped up behind her, her face ashen, that confounded wedding dress looking worse by the minute. “You think whoever shot at me broke in?” Marci whispered.
Dammit, fear flickered in her eyes, sucker punching him, and reminding him that even though she was a suspect in an investigation, she also could have been killed the night before, and it was his job to protect her.
A job he had to take just as seriously as he did finding her fiancé and arresting him.
*~*~*~*
Blast it! Marci wanted nothing more than to shower, change out of her mangled wedding dress and have a drink.
Even if it was eight o’clock in the morning. Surely there was some champagne left that she could drown her sorrows in.
She’d felt as if she was doing the walk of shame as she went to answer the door except that walk usually followed a night of hot sex, and she certainly hadn’t had sex the night before.
Only a night of sleeping with another inmate in her wedding gown. A reminder that her marriage had not happened.
And that her fiancé was on the lamb.
But Detective Muller had ordered her not to touch anything, so here she stood in the same dress she’d been wearing for eighteen hours, twisting her hands like a kid who’d been reprimanded by her teacher.
Hell, if she had touched something he’d probably arrest her again for disobeying him.
For a brief second insanity struck, and she wondered what he would be like in the bedroom. Just as bossy?
Hmm…
For God’s sakes, Marci, you can’t seriously think about that man and lovemaking. He probably doesn’t know the word.
But he would know how to please a woman. She’d bet her best stilettos on that.
If she could find them, that is. They were heinously mixed in with her flats and pumps right now.
The mule-headed man who’d ruined her night glanced around the living room, then stalked to her bedroom as if he was at home.
Of course, he knew the way. He’d searched it for stolen goods.
His dark gaze met hers when he saw the destruction, only this time some emotion actually flickered in the depths. Concern?
Was he worried about her?
Hmm, now that would be interesting…
“The crime unit is on their way,” he said. “Let me take a look around.”
Summoning as much dignity as she could muster in her current situation, she nodded. Kim’s cell phone jangled, and she frowned then stepped into the other room to answer it.
But Marci remained in the threshold of the door afraid she’d go back to jail if she disobeyed him. She gestured to the mattress. “Did your people do this?”
“No.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I told you we searched your place, but no, we didn’t leave it like this.”
“How do you know?” Marci asked, sure he might lie to protect his buddies.
“Because I was here,” he said, his gaze once again meeting hers.
Marci shivered at the intensity in that look. The very thought of him rifling through her personal belongings, especially her lingerie, made her stomach flutter.
For a brief second, she sensed that he actually might be upset about the break-in, but another knock sounded, and he jerked his gaze from hers and headed back to the den.
He didn’t wait on her to answer the door but went to it and let two young men in, then introduced them as Eddie and Borus, crime techs.
“Photograph and process the place,” Detective Muller said. “You’ll need the sister and her husband’s prints to eliminate them. We have Miss Turner’s prints on file from the arrest.”
“This could take a while,” he told her. “You may want to go somewhere else for a few hours.”
Marci wanted to scream that all she wanted was her own home and bed and shower. But Kim’s troubled expression as she hung up from her call made her bite her tongue.
“What’s wrong?” Austin asked.
Kim shook her head but averted her eyes, and Marci’s stomach somersaulted. “What is it, Kim?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Kim said. Then she started to take Austin’s arm to pull him aside.
But Marci remembered her earlier guilt over embarrassing her sister and had to know the truth. “Tell me, Kim. What’s wrong?”
The detective was watching, but Marci ignored him. Maybe if she pretended like he was a piece of furniture, a wooden table or chair, she could forget he was in the room.
“Kim?”
“Three of my investors pulled their support for the children’s center,” Kim said quietly. “They…are worried that I was involved in this scheme and may be filing charges.”
Marci literally sank onto the couch, her heart drumming to a stop. For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to say.
She had screwed her own life up in a big way, and she’d have to live with.
But Kim was the most honest, hardworking, sincere person she knew. And those poor kids depended on her.
None of them should have to suffer because of her.
A tense silence fell across the room, and her stomach pitched as if she might be sick. But she willed the nausea down. In the background, she heard the crime techs searching the place, dusting for prints, invading her privacy even more.
Then they fingerprinted Kim and Austin, and nausea hit her again.
Lord help. The last thing she wanted to do was throw up in front of the mule headed cop who’d started all of this.
But she had to do something.
Something to fix it for Kim and those kids.
She took several deep breaths in the silence, the cop’s eyes heating her skin as he watched. Damn him. Did he have to witness another humiliating moment in her life?
“Kim, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Rallying her anger, she pushed up and planted her hands on her hips. “Where’s my phone, Detective?”
Detective Muller stiffened. “It’s right here.”
She was tired of being a victim. She couldn’t just sit back and let things disintegrate even more. “Let me see it.”
“What are you going to do?” Kim asked, a panicked note to her voice.
“Fix things.” She grabbed Austin’s arm on one side and Kim’s on the other. “Take my sister home please.”
“Marci,” Kim said. “Please, I don’t want to leave you alone here.” She gestured at the mess. “Not like this. And not with him.”
“I’ll be fine,” Marci said. “I really need some time alone anyway. Thanks for everything. Now go home.”
Kim gave her a beseeching look and halted at the door. “No, come back to our house.”
“Kim,” Marci said through gritted teeth. “The last thing you need is for me to stay with you and ruin your image any more than it’s already been ruined.” She turned to Austin. “Take her home and call those investors and assure them that my sister wasn’t involved.”
“I’ll do my best,” Austin said. “In fact, I plan to call our attorney.”
“Good.” Marci shoved them both through the door. “Now go. As soon as the cops leave, I’m going to
shower and get some sleep.”
Kim squeezed her hand. “I’ll call you.”
Marci nodded, then closed the door.
When she turned back Detective Muller was watching her with raised eyebrows.
“What are you going to do, Marci?” he asked gruffly.
She grabbed the phone. “Just what I told my sister. I’m going to fix things.” She darted into the bathroom, shut the door and locked it.
Tears threatened as she punched her message box to see if Paul had called.
“You made this mess, Paul,” she whispered. “Now I’m going to find your ass and you’re going to fix it.”
*~*~*~*
He smiled as that gutsy little Marci locked the bathroom door. He had a feeling she would be valuable to him at some point.
And so far he hadn’t had to do anything but watch her. Well, maybe he spooked her a little by tearing apart her apartment.
But the cop and Pendergrass had done the rest.
Now, all he had to do was sit back and wait on the little woman.
She would lead him straight to Pendergrass.
Then his problems would be solved and he would be rolling in the money.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Detective Muller stared at the closed bathroom door, his pulse clamoring. Geez, Marci Turner had spunk and fire.
She was obviously more upset about the fact that her sister was in trouble than the fact that she was.
Interesting.
He hated to admit it, but…admirable.
So if she loved her sister so much, and she thought she was about to come into a boatload of cash, wouldn’t she have let her sister in on the deal?
Although they were identical twins, just being around the two of them together for a few minutes told him how different they were.
And that Kim and her husband wouldn’t have gone along with the scheme.
Maybe Marci had protected her sister by not telling her about the con she and Paul were running.
Or maybe she’s innocent.
Then again, she might be in the bathroom now talking to Pendergrass and planning their getaway.
The crime techs continued dusting for prints while he stepped onto the stoop and phoned Georgia. “I’m at Marci Turner’s place. It’s been trashed.”
