Mike approached her. “What is it?”
She crouched, reached into one of the cartons and shook her head. “Someone’s picked through this stuff.”
“Couldn’t the victim or a customer have done that?” He bent closer and narrowed his gaze at the stack of boxes. “Looks like some dusty old books.”
Kelsey shook her head and tapped the top crate. “This box was on the bottom before. I specifically remember that because I noticed a book inside I suspected might be valuable. I took it with me so I could have a rare book expert examine it. Certainly Margaret didn’t have enough strength to rearrange those heavy cartons. And we don’t let customers behind the counter for any reason. Margaret is…was a real stickler for the rules.” She swiped away a tear.
Jason stepped closer. “Maybe the guy came after something in that box.”
Mike shook his head. “Doubtful. Why would he spend any time searching through junk?”
“Maybe he suspected the contents weren’t junk at all,” Kelsey offered.
“No offense, Miss Ackerman, but I’ve been a cop for more than ten years. I’ve worked more than my share of crime scenes. Chances are the perpetrator is a dopehead who came in looking to score some fast cash.” He swept his arm through the air. “This place looks like an easy mark. Your employee probably made a poor decision to confront him. That decision cost the lady her life.”
Kelsey’s eyes darkened and her fists clenched at her sides. She started to say something, but Jason stepped between her and Mike. His friend was a good cop, an intuitive one, but he seemed to be rushing to judge in this case. No sense in arguing now, though. Not until they’d completed the autopsy and the detectives had written up their report.
“Are your guys finished processing the scene, Mike?” Jason gestured toward Kelsey. “She’s been through a huge trauma. It’s after eleven. Can she close the place up for the night?”
Mike glanced around the store. His crew busily packed their equipment. “How are we coming, Wes?” he called to one of his officers.
The man gave him a thumb up.
“We have what we need, for now.” He shoved past Jason and handed Kelsey a business card. “I’ll call you if I have more questions, Miss Ackerman.”
Jaw tight, she nodded.
Minutes later all the cops had cleared out, leaving Jason alone with his sister and Kelsey. Jenna rubbed her hand along Kelsey’s arm. “Why don’t you stay at my place tonight?”
“I appreciate your hospitality, but I’ll be okay.” She pursed her lips and faced Jason. “What I don’t appreciate is you running interference with Captain Callahan for me. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with people myself.”
He started to object to her irritated tone, but remembered what she’d just been through and stopped himself. “I meant to help. Mike and I go way back and I think I’m a little more experienced than you at dealing with law enforcement officers since I am one.” The woman was obviously no shrinking violet, but that didn’t give her the right to speak to him that way. He had to admit, though, her angry pout made her even sexier.
“Guys, guys,” Jenna interjected as she approached them. “Tensions are high. Let’s move on, okay?” She turned to Jason and gave him the same frustrated look she used to when they were kids.
But she had a point. He reached around his sister and touched Kelsey’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you’re upset.”
Her expression softened and the prettiness that had impressed him when he’d first met her nearly bowled him over now.
Jenna crossed the room to the counter and pointed at Kelsey’s key chain. “Good thing these weren’t in your purse.”
Kelsey sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Yeah. I’ll deal with all that tomorrow.”
“There’s something you ought to consider, Kelsey.” Jason met her stare. “Whoever stole your purse knows where you live.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Her brow knitted. “I’ll make sure everything’s locked up tight. I’m a little more concerned that the police aren’t even considering any motives other than robbery.”
Jason had the same thought. “How about we discuss the possibilities over a cup of coffee? There’s a place open twenty-four hours a couple blocks away.”
“Unless you need me for that, I’ll have to bow out.” Jenna picked up her purse. “I have an early flight to Atlanta. Meeting with a new client. Sorry, Kelsey.”
Kelsey’s gaze darted around the room as if she was searching for something. “Um, I don’t know.”
He waved to his sister as she left then returned his attention to Kelsey. “Have you eaten anything tonight?”
She glanced toward the back of the store and set her hand on her stomach. “I’m not hungry.”
He shook his head. “Not what I asked. Come on. I insist.”
She huffed and folded her arms over her chest. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Always.” He chuckled and gestured toward the door. Begrudgingly, she strode ahead of him.
The creep who killed her friend might well come after her. No way could he let her out of his sight, not with a killer on the loose who knew her name and exactly where to find her.
Chapter Two
Kelsey hugged her arms tightly around her body as she stared out the windshield of Jason’s truck. A welcome numbness had settled over her, preferable to the intense sadness and guilt she’d experienced in the immediate aftermath of discovering Margaret’s body.
“They make a mean apple pie here.” Jason leaned his arm over the back of the seat.
She glanced around, unaware until that instant that he’d parked the vehicle. “I told you, I’m really not very hungry.”
“I understand. Maybe just coffee then.” His green eyes sparkled with compassion.
Paul was nice to me in the beginning. Don’t trust it.
After a moment, he got out and came around to the passenger side to open her door. He offered a hand, but she ignored the gesture and climbed out on her own.
Absently, she glimpsed the neon diner sign as they strode toward the building. Jason held the door and she hurried past him, careful to avoid touching him. Something about him scared the hell out of her.
Aside from being incredibly handsome, he incited feelings inside her she ought not have right now. Or ever. Hadn’t she learned her lesson with Paul? Giving in to her passions would only lead to trouble.
Her stomach lurched at the smell of hamburger grease and french fries. Only two booths were occupied and a lone patron sat at the long counter.
“How about over there?” He started toward a table in the far corner.
“I prefer this one.” She scooted into a booth near the front. She’d never suffer a man telling her what to do again.
Lifting an eyebrow, he stood his ground for several seconds, then joined her. He offered her a menu from the stand, but she shook her head. “I don’t want anything.”
A middle-aged waitress in a pink uniform appeared at their table. Dark bags hung under her lifeless-looking eyes and her bottle-blonde hair didn’t match her brown eyebrows. “What can I get you?” She slid a pen out from behind her ear and held it above an order pad, poised to write.
Jason set his menu aside. “Kelsey?”
“Just a cup of tea, please.” She managed a weak smile for the waitress.
“Coffee and apple pie for me.” He thanked the woman then waited until she’d disappeared into the kitchen. “I don’t think you ought to be alone tonight. Callahan’s theory that your friend’s murder was merely a botched robbery doesn’t feel right. If the murderer didn’t find what he came for, he might go after you.”
She instantly stiffened at the reminder of the tragic event. But surely, he exaggerated the danger to her. “That doesn’t make sense. The killer probably thinks I happened into the store, not that I own the place. Why would anyone come after me?”
His brow creased. “Maybe they wouldn’t, but if there’s something the guy wanted at your store
that he didn’t find, we can’t be sure he won’t try to locate you, which would be a piece of cake since he has your purse.”
She tamped down an unexpected jolt of fear. “I know someone dug through the books you and Jenna left and I seriously doubt that someone was Margaret. Did you know about the rare volume among the others?”
He shook his head. “We assumed the stuff was all basically junk. Our great uncle passed away a couple months ago and willed Jenna and me the contents of a rented storage unit. Place was empty except for the crates of books and a shoebox full of old letters.”
Why would someone store a valuable antique with worthless junk? Unless he had no idea the value of that antique. “Do you know if your uncle collected rare books?”
“I never heard him mention anything about books.” He steepled his fingers together on the table. “Uncle Percy wandered in and out of our lives until a few years ago when he started showing signs of dementia. Before that he traveled a lot, spent much of his time in Europe.”
Jason’s black uniform couldn’t hide his broad shoulders or his muscular arms. But she ought to be concentrating on finding Margaret’s killer, not this man’s physique or his captivating green eyes. Or his sensuous mouth. Dragging her gaze from his lips, she sat taller and read his gold name badge. Miami-Dade County Corrections, Sergeant Jones. “What did your uncle do for a living?”
“I think he appraised antique furniture, but honestly, he retired at least twenty years ago, long before I paid much attention to the careers of my relatives.”
“Someone who dealt in antiques could have easily come across a rare book like that, but I would imagine he’d have known its value or at least suspected. The number of surviving Shakespeare volumes dating back that far can’t be more than ten or fifteen.”
“So where’s the book now?”
The waitress arrived at their table before she could answer. She set two mugs and a pot of steaming water on the table. Kelsey thanked her as she poured the water over a teabag. Tendrils of rising steam fogged her glasses so she took them off and set them on the table. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.
Jason bent his head as he stared at her, grinning. “You have lovely eyes, Kelsey.”
Her insides heated, something she hadn’t experienced for a long while—except when she read a hot romance. But now wasn’t the time to allow her libido free rein. Her interest in dating had dried up long ago. Yet her nipples hardened and strained against her bra. She grabbed her glasses and slipped them back on then closed her arms over her chest.
The waitress returned carrying a slice of pie and a coffeepot and filled Jason’s mug. After she left, Jason leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Where did you stash the book?”
She watched him sip his coffee, wondered what those lips would feel like on hers. Moisture slicked her sex. She squirmed in the seat, tried to convince herself that sweet ache between her legs was merely her imagination.
What’s wrong with me? How can I think of anything right now beside poor Margaret?
Straightening, she cleared her throat. “It’s at my apartment. Just didn’t seem right to leave something that valuable in a box with all those dusty books.”
He set down his cup and met her stare. “How valuable are we talking?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but I put in a call to a friend who deals exclusively in rare volumes.” She lifted the teabag out of her cup then stirred in four packets of sugar. “I left a message but he hasn’t phoned me back yet.” She remembered her cell had been in her purse. “I guess I’ll have to call him since I left him my cell number.”
“Want to venture a guess? Are we talking hundreds, thousands?”
“If it’s what I suspect and not a forgery, it’s one of only a few surviving first edition copies dating from the sixteen-thirties.” Wrapping her hands around her mug, she savored the warmth. Despite the comfortable temperature in the restaurant, she hadn’t stopped trembling since…since she’d discovered Margaret. “We’re not talking hundreds or even thousands. Art, my contact, will know for sure. But the book could be worth a million, perhaps more.”
His eyes opened wide. “Uncle Percy wasn’t a particularly wealthy man. I find it hard to swallow that he’d own something like that.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, he exhaled loudly. “Unless he didn’t realize what he had. It’s possible his dementia played a part in this.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his.
Heat instantly seared her skin. She wanted to move her hand, run from the restaurant, but she forced herself to stay still but her mouth went dry.
“This puts you in more danger than I’d imagined. I’m going to take the rest of the night off work and bring you to my house. For safekeeping.”
Shock and irritation bubbled inside her. She yanked her arm away. How dare he make decisions for her? “Like hell you are!” Realizing how loud her voice sounded in the near empty diner, she glanced around, found the few customers in the place staring at her. She sank lower in the seat.
“Just to protect you. The killer could show up at your door tonight.”
She gritted her teeth. Why did men always think they knew what was best for her. “I’ll be perfectly safe at my place, thank you.”
“Fine.” He scooped a piece of pie onto his fork. “I’ll go to your apartment with you. But I’m not letting you out of my sight until the perpetrator is behind bars.” He stuffed the pie into his mouth and gave her a smug grin.
Who did this man think he was, ordering her into his own personal brand of protective custody? Now he really reminded her of Paul, her ex, maybe even a little of her controlling father. Either way, she refused to stand for it. “I’ll be fine. We don’t even know if the book is what the killer came after. Believe it or not, I’m capable of locking my doors and windows.”
Jason swiped his hand over his flattop and sighed. Why did she have to be so damn hardheaded? Didn’t she understand how much danger she could be in? “There’s a reason it’s called breaking and entering you know.” He forked another piece of pie into his mouth, but he hardly tasted it. If he were smart, he’d walk away, but that wasn’t what he was about.
“We don’t even know for sure that the murder has a thing to do with that book.” Dropping her head forward, she stirred her tea, which had to be about as sweet as candy with all the sugar she’d added. “I don’t need you or anyone else to protect me.”
He wondered what she’d suffered in past relationships to make her so standoffish. “I think you do. If you won’t let me do the job, I’ll check if Callahan will assign an officer to your place.” But he knew his friend would never approve the extra man-hours based on a hunch. Especially since Mike had brushed off the notion that the murder could be anything but a botched robbery by a druggie.
“I never asked for your help.” Anger flared in her blue eyes. But he also glimpsed something else. Desire?
In my dreams.
She might not be in this position if it hadn’t been for him dropping his uncle’s things at her store. And the elderly lady who’d died so violently might still be alive. His stomach churned with guilt. The last thing he’d ever wanted was for another person to suffer because of something he did, or neglected to do.
He flashed on Charlotte’s body draped over the ledge of her bathtub, streams of blood running down the white porcelain and onto the floor. Cringing from the memory, he set his fork down.
“I’m sorry, Jason. I know you have the best intentions.” Kelsey’s voice jarred him back to the present.
“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to act like a brute.” He took her hand again, relieved she hadn’t stiffened as much as last time.
For the first time all evening, a genuine smile settled on her pretty lips. “I promise I’ll be extra careful.”
He’d let her believe she’d won this battle. “Would you excuse me a moment?” Heading to the restrooms, he unclipped his phone from his belt and called Corporal Washington to let him know he wouldn’t
be in to work at all tonight.
The beautiful blonde damsel in distress needed him, whether she knew it or not.
* * * * *
After Jason dropped Kelsey at her car, he followed her to her apartment to pick up the Shakespeare book. Hopefully she’d agree to allow him to hold on to it for safekeeping, which might just keep her safer as well.
She unlocked her front door and ushered him inside. He glanced around the living room. The place had a faint sweet smell, like cotton candy or vanilla. Maybe one of those jar candles he noticed scattered throughout the room.
Huge wooden shelving units lined two walls, crammed full of books. “Wow. Is this the overflow storage for your bookstore?”
Her face lit up with a laugh. “I like to read.” She set her keys on a hook near the door. “Can I offer you a drink or something?”
He wanted to accept if it meant more time with her, but the dark circles under her eyes and her sagging shoulders told him she needed rest. “I’m good, thanks.”
She crossed the room and picked up a cloth wrapped package from the coffee table. “Here it is.” She sat on the couch and carefully folded back the fabric.
Jason took a seat beside her and studied the brown leather book with gold lettering on the spine. A few scratches were visible on the cover and some of the gold leaf edges had worn off. The yellowed pages looked a little warped. “So that’s what a nearly four hundred-year-old book looks like, huh?”
She nodded. “It’s been well cared for and surprisingly your uncle’s storage unit doesn’t seem to have taken much of a toll. Must have been one of those climate controlled ones.”
“Yeah, it was air conditioned. Book looks pretty blotchy to me.”
“Mm hmm. But that’s not from a lack of care. Prior to the nineteen-sixties, they used to oil leather book covers.” She pointed to an area of reddish powder near the spine. “These dry spots are called red rot. Antique book dealers used to think oiling would prevent them, but it didn’t. The oil only made blotches on the leather.”
“So you think this is the real deal?” He bent closer, afraid to touch the cover for fear of damaging it.
Tropic of Trouble Page 2
