Bahan howled.
“I’m glad you think my life falling apart is funny.”
He coughed and threw on his poker face. “Sorry. Was there alcohol involved?”
“I think so. He said that they had just wrapped up a case and went to a bar. Then they . . . you know . . . and then parted ways and never talked again.”
Bahan rubbed a hand across his mouth as though fighting to hold back his amusement. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said.
“I know you’re a good investigator, but you can’t ask four questions and know whether or not . . .” She sighed, feeling incredibly foolish. “Never mind, you’re right. I’m being stupid, and I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
She dug into her bag and pulled out her dad’s file to change the subject.
He slapped his hand down on top of the folder before she could open it. “Jordan, you are being stupid. How long did it take McGee to call after you had sex for the first time?”
Her mouth dropped open. She’d been to hell and back—a few times over—with Bahan. But her sex life with Ty was awkward to talk about. Plus she had crossed a lot of lines with Ty on the last case and wasn’t overly anxious to admit that to Bahan.
“You don’t have to answer,” he said. “But my point is, I’m betting he cared enough to get a hold of you.”
She nodded, remembering all too well. After the first time she had sex with Ty, he’d been waiting for her the next day in the parking lot of Buck’s, insisting that they talk.
“I’m no expert, but in my experience there’s a big difference between the woman you can’t wait to see again and one you feel obligated to call and yet never do.”
Bahan was right. Deep inside she knew that what she had with Ty was strong and meaningful. Overwhelmingly so most of the time. It was also complicated and scary as hell. “You’re right.” She nodded. “I know you’re right.”
“Of course. I’m always right. Now if McGee’s working, you want to grab a beer? I can give you more pearly words of wisdom—Bahan-style—and we can talk about your dad’s file.”
“Actually, I have a few things about my dad’s case that I want to research.” She filled him in on what she had gotten through that morning. “Ty immediately reached the same conclusion I did. We think it makes a lot of sense that someone suspected my dad was a cop and that the delivery was a test. When the truck got seized, they figured my dad and Steele were the rats and murdered them.”
“Sounds like a good assumption,” Bahan said. “I’m glad you got some answers.”
“Some answers, but not all of them. I’d like to see Steel’s file so I can compare it with my dad’s. And I still need to know who the Native American guy was.”
Bahan rubbed his forehead. She was chasing a needle through a mountain of hay, and they both knew it. She wasn’t sure how long his patience would last.
“Did you ever think that maybe you’re wrong about this guy? Maybe he doesn’t even exist.”
“Or maybe he’s still a part of the Delago organization. Maybe he’s the one who ordered the hit on my family. I don’t think I can put this to rest until I know who he was. What if he’s still alive? What if he’s still ordering hits on cops?”
Bahan’s only answer was the shake of his head.
“If there’s just the smallest chance I’m right, shouldn’t we at least look? What if he does exist and is still out there? He could be running a huge operation of his own right now. With the databases you have access to, and both of us looking, we could scan through a lot guys with known drug ties in just a few hours. At least we can say we tried.”
Bahan sighed, but she knew she had him.
“You’re going to owe me a lot more than stolen-mint money.”
She smiled and agreed. How could she argue the fact that she was racking up a hell of an IOU account with him? She was a little worried about the day he’d decide to cash it all in, but for now, she had a drug dealer to find.
***
Jordan made it home right about the time the sun was setting. Ty was kicked back on the couch with his legs propped up on the table, a beer in one hand and another empty bottle next to him.
“Hi.” She dropped down on the table in front of him.
Based on the cool stare, he wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he’d first appeared.
“I knew you were going into St. Louis, but I didn’t realize you’d be gone this long. I tried to make it home so we could grab dinner.”
“I figured you’d be tied up most of the day.” She shrugged. “I had things to look into. But if you wanted me home earlier, you should have called.”
“I did call. A few times.”
He was good and aggravated. She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. She’d dropped it inside her bag hours ago and never bothered to look at it again. “I forgot to charge it. Guess it died.”
He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “Even if you’re mad at me, it’s childish to refuse to answer your phone.”
“I’m not mad at you.” At least she hadn’t been.
“The tension today between you and Isobel was thick enough to slice. I could see how upset you were when you left the precinct. You’re telling me the run-in with her had nothing to do with you refusing to answer my calls?”
“I didn’t refuse to answer your calls.” And he was wrong about why she upset earlier. It hadn’t been Isobel. Not entirely. The tall, blond kid who’d murdered his girlfriend was what had thrown her. “I dropped the stupid phone in my bag and forgot about it. I’m not on duty, not even on call, so—”
“Being on duty doesn’t have jack-shit to do with understanding that I worry. You drive like a New York cabbie on these back roads. Not to mention you’re a drug cop, so every time you walk out that door there’s a target on your back. The least you can do is answer your damn phone. I have always done that much for you.”
Her temper diffused quickly. It always did when she realized his boxers were in a twist because he was worried about her. She never quite knew what to make of his concern. She hadn’t had to check in with someone in, well . . . ever. But he was right. He did answer his phone and return calls right away. She was sure there would come a day when she’d be grateful for it.
“I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t ignore your calls on purpose.” She laid a hand on his leg. There was no denying the risks that went along with their lifestyle. “Really. I’m just not used to having to check in with someone.”
He stood and walked into the kitchen. When he returned, he handed her a beer and sat in front of her. “Then pretty please, with sugar and a fucking cherry on top, get used to it. I don’t like sitting here trying to figure out if you’ve decided to take on the wrong drug addict or if you’re wrapped around a tree.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and pulled his face close to hers. With a gentle stroke of her tongue, she traced his bottom lip, tasting the tang of beer on him.
He set the beer down, clamped his hands around her waist, and tugged her onto his lap.
It was a weird fetish, she knew, but her fingers rubbed over and over the rough stubble on his cheeks while her tongue slipped deeper into his mouth. His end-of-the-day rough cheeks had a mystical power that made all her girls parts zing to life. There was just something so raw and masculine about the prickly sensation. And there was no doubt that she loved his mouth.
After a few minutes of connection, she tore her lips away, moved her head to his shoulder, and nuzzled into his neck. “So how was your day?”
“Well, up until about thirty seconds ago, it pretty well sucked. But it’s getting better now.”
She smiled and pressed soft kisses against his neck.
“Did you make progress on your dad’s case?”
She let out a sarcastic laugh. “No. In fact, the harder I dig, the less sense anything makes. I’m beginning to think Bahan was right. I should have quit while I was blissfully ignorant.”
He touched his lips to
her forehead. “I can help, babe. I just need a day or two to wrap this up. We’re pretty close to making an arrest.”
“The boyfriend?” she asked.
“I guess. I’m not completely convinced, but Isobel seems to be. A team went through his bedroom and car today. They found a coat and a hat with blood on it in his trunk. I’m guessing its Hailey King’s blood. Isobel thinks we have enough to make an arrest stick. And we probably do.”
“How did he explain the coat and blood?”
“He says the coat was stolen weeks ago, and he has no idea about the blood. He says he walked outside the frat house after Hailey left, but got sick and started puking on the front lawn before he could follow her. Then he claims to have passed out. He doesn’t remember anything after that.”
“He’s claiming memory loss? That’s convenient,” she said.
“Yeah, but I’ve got at least five different guys swearing they found him out cold and carried him back to the basement. Near as I can tell, we’ve got about fifteen minutes where we can’t account for his whereabouts. I suppose it’s physically possible he could have caught up to her, killed her, and returned, but something about the whole damn thing feels off to me. I don’t think the kid has murder in him. I think he loved her.”
Jordan swallowed back the guilt prodding at her and shifted on his lap until she could look him in the eye. How was she supposed to live with the fact she knew otherwise? “He wouldn’t be the first guy to kill a woman he supposedly loved in an angry, drunken rage. It happens all the time.”
“You sound like you’ve been talking to Isobel,” he muttered.
“Ha, that’ll be the day,” she shot back. “But as bad as I hate to say it, she could be right. Passing out may be his whole defense. If he claims he has no memory, and you can’t prove he was there, that’s reasonable doubt for any lawyer worth his salt. You probably need to dig deeper. You can’t give him a pass just because you think he’s normally a good kid.”
Ty eyed her. “What are you trying to say? You think I haven’t explored every possible piece of evidence I can get my hands on?”
“I know you have,” she said, backtracking. “But I also know what it’s like to deal with guys who’d rather look you in the eye and lie than tell the truth. Even if the truth is handier.”
Beauty sprang up from her blanket, baying like a true hound.
Ty’s focus shifted to the dog. “She can bark? Huh.”
“I know, right? It was a shock to me, too,” Jordan said.
When Beauty barked again, Ty scooted Jordan off of his lap and headed to the front door.
“Someone here?” she asked.
“Looks like my parents. And Trevor, too. This ought to be good if my dad actually left the house.”
Jordan got up and joined Ty in the foyer. When Ty opened the door, Beauty greeted everyone with a weird little noise that sounded more like she was attempting a conversation than barking.
Ty’s mom reached down and petted the dog. “Is that right?” she asked the Beauty. Maggie laughed and looked up at Jordan. “You guys didn’t mention you had a new family member.”
“I guess we forgot, but yeah, that’s Beauty.”
Trevor chuckled. “I’d call her Franken-canine. Frank for short.”
Jordan grinned, but she socked Trevor in the shoulder, anyway.
Ty’s dad handed him a pie. “I know it’s rude to just pop in, but your mom was dying to see the house.”
“Hey, we’re cops.” Jordan snagged the pie from Ty. “You bring sweets or coffee, and the door is always open.”
Ty kissed his mom’s cheek. “Thank God I’m finally going to get something to eat around here. You could starve to death in this house.”
Jordan accepted the jab as being well on target; she did suck at the domestic crap. But she shot Ty a dirty look for pointing out her shortcoming in front of his parents. “If you wanted someone who could cook, you should have moved in with Betty Crocker.”
They spent the next hour showing Ty’s family the house. Even Ty’s dad seemed interested in their plans. After checking out the final closet, they managed to wrangle everyone back into the kitchen where they dove into the pie.
“Lemon meringue. Did Nana make this?”
It cracked Jordan up that a big guy like Ty still called his grandmother Nana.
“She did,” Maggie answered. “She also made you a blueberry one, but Trevor got to it before you did.”
“It didn’t have anyone’s name written on it,” Trevor chimed in.
They sat around the table and chatted, but after pie and coffee, Ty shot Jordan a questioning glance. She knew exactly what he was thinking, because she’d been thinking it, too. Something was going on, only no one was stepping forward to say what that something was.
Finally, Trevor drummed his fingers on the table and said, “So . . .”
Everyone looked at him. Ty copied his drumming fingers.
“I’ve got a business proposition for you two. Kind of. You don’t have to do anything really.”
Ty leaned back in his chair and fold his arms. Jordan knew his mind was still on his murder case. That was the one thing people didn’t always get about cop work, that it wasn’t the kind of thing you could shut down and walk away from. He didn’t look overly open to a business proposition at the moment.
“Dad is interested in cutting down the hours he puts in on the farm,” Trevor said. “And I’m thinking about taking it over. That is, if you don’t mind.”
Ty looked confused, and Jordan certainly was.
“Why would I care if you want to take over the farm?” Ty asked.
Ty’s dad leaned forward and entered the conversation. “Because your mom and I always thought we’d eventually sell the farm, the house and all the equipment and split it between the three of you kids.” He blinked and looked down. “With Tara gone, half of everything is yours.”
“That’s it? You want to take over dad’s farm?”
Trevor nodded.
“Christ, you looked so serious. I thought you were getting ready to tell us someone was dying or you were bankrupt, or something. The way you were looking at us scared the shit out of me.” Ty blew out a big breath. “I think it’s great you want to take over the farm.”
“Well, there is a little more,” Trevor said. “And I hope you guys will be up for it. I’ve wanted to get into the horse business for a while now. Like the Hendersons were at one time. Start slow. Breed for quality, not quantity.”
Ty glanced at Jordan and then back at his brother.
“The other night you said you liked the idea of having a working farm but didn’t know how you’d find the time to get the stables in shape or take care of the horses. If I used your stables, I could fix everything up, take care of the land, and keep it running better than it ever did. But I wouldn’t have the overhead of building my own stable or buying my own land. We can work out the business end however you want, but we’ve both always loved horses. And we both know a lot about the business.”
Ty looked at Jordan again. She shrugged.
“Don’t look at me, I’m a cop. Everything I know about horses could fit on a fly’s ass.” Shit. Embarrassed that she’d forgotten to censor herself in front of Ty’s parents, she snapped her gaze to Maggie’s. “Sorry.”
Trevor grinned. “If you guys work on getting the house back in shape and I fix up the stables, the property will be every bit as spectacular as it was when the Hendersons owned it. Hell, Ty, this place was built for breeding and training.”
“Ah, well, I guess Jordan and I will need to talk about it.”
Ty picked up her hand and laced his fingers with hers, but instead of looking at Ty, Jordan couldn’t help but stare at Rick. For the first time since she’d met Ty’s dad, he was smiling. And that, she figured, was reason enough for Ty to say yes.
Whether she liked it or not, she suspected horses—and Ty’s family—were going to be part of her future.
***
&
nbsp; Jordan made more coffee for herself and Maggie. “You might as well have another piece of pie, too. I’m not sure what’s so fascinating out in that stable, but every time Ty goes out there it’s hours before I see him again.”
“Boys and their toys.” Maggie laughed. “All three of them are just big, overgrown boys.” She stirred cream into her coffee. “Thank you for not getting upset when Trevor brought up the idea of using your property and stables to breed his horses.”
Jordan shrugged. “I may not be Sherlock Holmes, but I’d already figured out Ty was going to come up with some excuse to keep horses out there. At least this way he’ll get his horse fix, but Trevor will be doing most of the day-to-day care. Seems like a win for both of them.”
“It’s also the first thing that’s sparked any kind of response from their dad since . . . well, since Tara’s been gone. He hasn’t come right out and said anything, but I can tell he’s thinking about how to help the boys get it all up and running. I can’t tell you what that tiny little bit of enthusiasm means.”
Jordan had noticed it, too. “Maybe this will be good for all of the guys, then. As long as I don’t have to shovel any horse . . .” She glanced over at Maggie and censored her word choice this time. “. . . poop, I don’t care what they do.”
Ty’s mom smiled and fidgeted with her coffee spoon again. Then she began twisting her wedding ring round and round her finger. Clearly, something was on Maggie’s mind. Jordan found very few techniques as effective as silence to elicit information, so she sat quietly.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that we figured out a way to keep the farm going without selling it. The thought of strangers living on our land or in our house is more than I can take. It’s just a house, I know. But my kids grew up there. I have so many memories of the boys and Tara tied up in our home.”
Maggie’s gaze connected with Jordan’s and hung on, as if she were clinging to a lifeline. “I realize I’m a crazy woman trying to hold on to something that’s too precious to let go of, but so many things make me feel like . . . I don’t know, I guess like . . .”
Dream Caller (A Dream Seeker Novel Book 3) Page 9
