The Closer He Gets

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Nothing felt good as they whiled away the evening, pretending this was normal. She did something online. He turned on a baseball game even though he didn’t care about either team. He checked for messages and email on his phone. She did a load of laundry.

  The change for him came after he shaved for a second time today, cleaned up the whiskers, brushed his teeth, popped his toothbrush in the ceramic holder that was an interesting part of the tile work behind her sink, and took a last look in the mirror. He wore only a pair of pajama pants that sagged low on his hips.

  Tess had taken the first turn in the bathroom, emerging while he was still digging his kit out of his duffel. She, too, was wearing pajama bottoms and a thin, white T-shirt that let him see the shadow of her nipples.

  She would already be in bed. Waiting for him. As she would be every night from here on out.

  For as long as we both shall live.

  He frowned at himself in the mirror. No, until she didn’t need his protection anymore.

  Satisfaction filled him when he turned off the bathroom light and saw her sitting up against a pile of pillows in the pool of light from a bedside lamp. This felt different tonight. More.

  He’d shaved here, his toothbrush was here, he’d get dressed in the morning for work here. As if he belonged. Him. A man who hadn’t belonged anywhere since he was nine years old.

  Zach walked to his side of the bed—yeah, his—and climbed in, immediately rolling to face her. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, slipping a hand beneath her tee, feeling her muscles tighten. He stroked the silky skin of her midriff in a circular motion. “Why don’t you lose a couple of those pillows?”

  She reached for the lamp.

  “Leave it,” he said. “I like to look at you.”

  Tess hesitated then turned back. She did as he’d suggested, tossing pillows to the floor, then pulled her T-shirt over her head, leaving her hair ruffled and her breasts bare for his mouth and hands.

  Zach made love to her as he’d never made love to a woman in his life. Heat and passion merged with the tenderness and fear for her that burned in his chest. He worshipped her body, not letting her hurry him even though he ached for her. He pushed her to a long, shuddering climax, then had her reaching for him frantically again before he slid into her. He held on to his control, driven by determination to please her ahead of himself, until she shattered around him, pulling him with her.

  He’d never felt anything like it, either. Not the intensity of the orgasm or the sense of peace afterward. Mind turned off, body sated, Tess’s arms around him. Breathing in her scent, his face turned into her neck, one of his hands still wrapping her hip.

  This is what I want, he thought drowsily.

  The lamp was still on when he woke a couple of hours later. Tess appeared unconscious. Also irresistibly naked. Zach did turn off the lamp, but then, when she woke, he made love to her again.

  * * *

  ZACH TIMED HIS arrival for the morning briefing perfectly. The seats were full and a few men stood to the side and at the back. He found a spot against the wall where he could lean.

  Several people turned to look past him in surprise. Paul Stokes had just walked in and was striding toward the front of the room. Stiffening, Zach flicked a glance at Sergeant Perez, already half sitting on a table at the front, arms crossed, obviously expecting the undersheriff’s arrival.

  Uniform crisp, hair razor-cut to a precise length, Stokes faced them in a parade stance. No casual pose for him. “Gentlemen. And ladies.” He inclined his head toward the two female deputies who worked Zach’s shift. “You are all aware that a man died recently from an apparent beating administered by Deputy Andrew Hayes, who is one of us.”

  His pause was long enough for Zach to feel some shock at the blunt beginning. No hint that Alvarez’s death might have come about accidentally, from his head hitting the concrete step. That made Zach wonder what the coroner knew but hadn’t released.

  “As you’re also aware, according to our tri-county agreement, a special investigation unit is looking into the death to determine whether criminal charges should be filed. Once we have those conclusions, we will discuss whether policy within the department needs to be changed and new training implemented.”

  The silence was absolute. They all stared at the second-in-command of the department. Waiting. Knowing this wasn’t all he’d come to say.

  “In the meantime,” he continued, his voice hardening, “both witnesses to the altercation between Deputy Hayes and Mr. Alvarez have received threats. One of those witnesses is also a member of this department.” He nodded at Zach, their eyes briefly meeting. “I’m sure you all noticed the state of the locker room a few weeks back.”

  A stir of amusement in the room died as his narrow-eyed glare searched out the sources.

  “Three men smashed Deputy Carter’s pickup, resulting in the insurance company totaling it and a significant financial loss for him. Ms. Granath, the other witness, has been threatened with notes and phone calls. The tires on her car were slashed. At least one perpetrator terrorized her in the middle of the night at her bedroom window at the same time as she received one of those telephone threats. This—” he held up a sheet of paper Zach hadn’t noticed he held “—is the latest attempt to silence witnesses who are only trying to describe events as they saw them. This is a death threat. It’s despicable. It was delivered to Deputy Carter by one of us.”

  He let them all stare at the photo. “I’m here to tell you that the investigation into Deputy Hayes’s blame—or lack of blame—in Mr. Alvarez’s death is being conducted as fairly as is possible to achieve. If it turns out Hayes is innocent of wrongdoing, that truth will emerge. If, however, you believe he should be shielded, guilty or not, from the consequences of his actions simply because he’s one of us, you’re wrong. So wrong you’re not worthy of wearing this badge—” he touched the one pinned on his chest pocket “—and don’t deserve the trust of the citizens of this county. When we discover who took this photograph and turned it into a death threat, that person will be arrested. If and when we discover who delivered this threat to one of our own right here in this building, that person will be arrested. If that person is a sheriff’s department employee, he or she will be fired. No recourse.”

  The room was like a tomb. Zach looked until he saw Todd Vance, sitting toward the back. He seemed to be fascinated by something on the floor.

  Stokes swept the room with one last look then gave a formal nod. “Sergeant Perez.”

  He stepped aside and Perez began the usual report of new alerts. Stokes continued to scan the room as the sergeant talked, his gaze pausing on one face after another. When his eyes met Zach’s, he bent his head a bare inch—but Zach thought he was indicating respect.

  Or, Zach reflected, it might have been the equivalent of a fencer signaling his readiness before a duel.

  Well, there was nothing he could do about it either way, except stick to the truth and protect Tess to the best of his ability.

  Zach tried not to look as though he was hurrying when the briefing ended, but he made it out of the door first.

  One guy he didn’t know well and hadn’t especially liked caught up with him in the hall.

  “Man, I hadn’t heard about all this crap. Hope you know I wouldn’t have any part of it. I’m sure most of us wouldn’t.”

  “I assumed as much, but thanks for saying it,” Zach returned.

  He had to repeat his thanks a few times before he was finally alone behind the wheel of his squad car. The deputies who’d stopped him had seemed genuinely shocked and concerned.

  Hayes’s best friends in the department, the ones willing to go out on a limb for him, might not work this shift, of course. But Zach felt sure Stokes would deliver the same message to all three briefings.

  And then what? Would the perpetrator
s think twice? Or would they figure they were already screwed if they got caught, so they should carry the plan to its final conclusion?

  Whatever that plan was.

  Zach started the engine and reached for his sunglasses, ready to start his patrol.

  Serve and protect.

  * * *

  ZACH EXCUSED HIMSELF after dinner Friday evening to make a call. Tess was a tiny bit relieved to have some space. Even if she hadn’t had doubts about his reasons for moving in, she’d still have some trouble adjusting to living with a man.

  It had felt odd to come home, remembering she needed to wedge her car as close to the left wall of the garage as she could while still allowing her enough room to open her door. From then on, she’d found herself listening for Zach’s arrival the whole time she was changing clothes and starting dinner. Tonight was the first time ever she heard the garage door opening when she wasn’t the one pushing the button on the remote control.

  It had taken some digging, but she’d found the second remote and even a new battery for it.

  When he came in through the door from the garage and through the utility room to the kitchen, Zach smiled. “You’re making dinner already. If I can get here earlier tomorrow night, I’ll figure out something. It has to be my turn.” He kissed her lightly and kept going toward the bedroom.

  Her first impression had been that he’d looked preoccupied and tired until he’d seen her. Tingling from the smile and the kiss, Tess wondered whether she’d been imagining things.

  Over dinner he told her about the undersheriff’s talk at the morning briefing. “Half a dozen guys have said something about it to me since.” Zach shook his head. “So far, they’ve all been supportive. I think a few of them were embarrassed.”

  “Do you think Stokes meant what he was saying? Or is he mad because you boxed him in and he had no choice but to speak out?”

  Zach seemed to think about that. “He can be a little hard to read. Best guess...he was sincere, but Sheriff Brown is pissed. Stokes is pretty straight-arrow. I don’t think he’s political enough to condone any of this.”

  He would have cleaned the kitchen alone if she hadn’t insisted on helping. When they were done, he went outside onto the patio to make a call.

  Tess set up the ironing board in the kitchen and began one of her least favorite chores. She wondered whether his uniforms had to be dry-cleaned. Being a man, he probably took them to the Laundromat no matter what. Anything not to iron.

  She caught glimpses of Zach through the window every time his pacing brought him to the near end of the patio. It was enough for her to see that the conversation was a stormy one.

  Tess reminded herself the call wasn’t any of her business. And, no, she couldn’t ask him about it. He had every right to his privacy.

  She saw the moment the call ended. He held out the phone and stared at it. Then, with a violent motion, he shoved it in a pocket of his jeans and thrust his fingers into his hair.

  He disappeared from her sight.

  It was probably five minutes later when the French door to the dining room opened and closed. Tess carefully slid the iron over a cuff. The steam hissed.

  Zach appeared in the kitchen. “My mother,” he said curtly.

  “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “If you’d rather I don’t—”

  What could she do but make a face at him? “You know I’m nosy.”

  He smiled but not very convincingly. “I filed a request for information at the Clear Creek PD during my lunch break today. The one detective who investigated Sheila’s death and is still on the job won’t return my phone calls.”

  Absorbing his apparent non sequitur, Tess slipped the blouse on a hanger that she’d suspended from a hook at the end of the upper cabinets. “Why doesn’t he want to talk to you?”

  “He’s probably just being territorial. Maybe thinks the very fact I’m asking questions means I don’t believe he did his job.”

  “You don’t.”

  This time he grinned at her. “You’re right. I did think that. Nolte—the retired detective—surprised me a little. He sounded like he’d done everything he could and should. The copy of the reports he forwarded are laughable, though. I have to think there’s something they’re hiding.”

  She nodded, still unsure what this had to do with his mother.

  “Mom has never been willing to tell me what she knows. I decided I wouldn’t take no from her tonight. By God, I want a list from her of what men she had on the side around then.”

  Tess had picked up the iron again but set it back down in its rack, unable to take her eyes off his face. “Oh, Zach.”

  His mouth twisted. “Oh, yes. End result is, I don’t have a single name I didn’t already know, and she thinks I was accusing her of having something to do with Sheila dying.” He rolled his shoulders. “I don’t know how we can go on from this.”

  The unhappiness on his face had her sinuses burning. She couldn’t not go to him. “You’ll tell her you love her and eventually she’ll understand you’re thinking of Sheila.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed.

  He grabbed on to her so hard, her face was mashed into his chest. “Oh, God, Tess,” Zach said, his voice raw, painful to hear. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  When he finally loosened his hold, it was only to capture her mouth with equal desperation.

  Tess barely remembered to unplug the iron before Zach swept her off to the bedroom.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  WE CARE PLUMBING paid for an ad in the Yellow Pages of the local telephone directory. “When you need us, we’re ready to serve you,” the ad read. It also featured the photo of a handsome man in a uniform shirt with We Care Plumbing stitched on the chest. He looked earnest and reliable.

  Considerably older than Zach’s memory of him, but Sam Doyle, no question.

  It wasn’t a lie to say he needed some plumbing work done, Zach thought, even if hell would freeze over before he’d hire this guy.

  “I’d like Mr. Doyle himself,” he told the cheerful woman who answered the phone.

  They agreed on ten o’clock Monday morning. Zach hadn’t expected We Care Plumbing to show up on a Sunday in the absence of an emergency.

  Sunday, Tess spent the day working with him at his house. He’d finished the porch earlier in the week and was now set on gutting the bathroom. She alternated between hauling debris out to the Dumpster and staining the porch floorboards and steps. He gave her a last chance to use the bathroom before he turned off the water and removed the toilet, sink and vanity.

  Then he went next door and returned with Dean Thompson, trailed by the kid, Dylan. Dean hadn’t seemed to mind being asked to help Zach haul out the tub.

  He introduced Tess before leading him inside the house.

  “Haven’t seen much of you this week,” Dean commented.

  “I’m staying with a friend for the moment, but I’ll be here tomorrow. I have a couple plumbers coming in the morning to give me bids. The new fixtures are all sitting in the garage, so I’m set to go once these pipes are replaced.”

  They each went to one end of the tub but before they could pick it up, Tess stuck her head in the bathroom.

  “There’s no rot,” she said in surprise.

  Dean laughed. “I can tell you’ve remodeled a house or two.”

  They were both grunting and sweating by the time they got the tub out to the bin. Dean stayed to help carry the new vanity and then the toilet in, setting both down in the bedroom across the hall.

  After Dean went home, Zach found Tess wandering around the yard. Envisioning landscaping, she admitted. When he told her he thought there should be a lilac, she agreed and they chose a spot. Since they were both at a good stopping point, they locked up and made a grocery store
run before going back to her place.

  Zach used the evening to make phone calls, figuring it was a good time to catch people at home. He hadn’t yet located Duane Womack, which made him think the guy had left the state. His ex was proving as elusive. Zach wondered if she had remarried and changed her name. He had identified the two daughters, however, and started with them.

  The oldest, Andrea, was thirty-two, only two years younger than Zach. The younger sister, Shelby, was twenty-nine. Andrea was a paralegal at a law firm in Everett, a couple counties away. Her sister lived in Bellingham, to the north. Neither was married. That wasn’t necessarily unusual these days, but he wondered about it anyway.

  Tess had asked if he’d wanted privacy to make his calls, but he’d shaken his head. “Unless I’ll be bothering you.”

  “No. I’ll be quiet,” she promised. She sat on the sofa reading. Zach sat in the chair facing her.

  Andrea answered her phone tersely.

  Zach talked fast, telling her he was now a police officer and explaining that his parents had known her father when he was a kid. “My sister, Sheila, was murdered when I was nine.”

  “I remember,” she said slowly. “The principal talked to us at school.”

  He frowned. “I’d forgotten. Friends told me. My parents kept me out of school for something like a week.” He hesitated. “Were you aware detectives talked to your father about Sheila back then?”

  She was silent for quite a while. Zach saw that Tess was watching him, her book open but apparently forgotten on her lap.

  “No,” Andrea said finally. “I had no idea.”

  He waited for more. Shouldn’t she be asking why investigators would have thought her father had anything relevant to offer?

  “I haven’t been able to locate him. I’m hoping you’d be willing to give me his phone number.”

  “I’m no longer in touch with him,” she said with flat finality.

  “Would you be willing to tell me why?”

  “That’s kind of personal, don’t you think?”