Lawman Lover

by Saranne Dawson

  “He probably isn’t. He’s Jesse’s latest find for me.”

  He shook his head. “Is it just me, or is there something weird about a woman who can’t seem to settle down to one man trying to find someone for her sister?”

  She laughed. “It isn’t just you. I’ve thought about that, too.”

  Michael frowned. “I wonder why she hasn’t tried to push us together. Or has she, and I just don’t know about it?”

  “She hasn’t. Maybe even Jesse can see just how unsuitable we are.” She kept her tone light, but her mind was churning. Was he being honest—or merely clever?

  She told him that she needed to speak to him privately, and they made their way through the crowd to the rear of the house, where there was a small TV room. Amanda was wishing that Michael were anything but a detective. She knew how devious he could be, how good he was at playing mind games. But was he doing that now with her?

  Why don’t you just ask him flat out? she wondered. Is it because maybe you really don’t want to know? Jesse made a convenient shield between them.

  “I had a strange phone call tonight,” she said as he closed the door behind them. “It was just before I left to come here. I would have called you, but I guessed that you’d be here.”

  “What was the call about?” he asked, his voice shifting effortlessly to cop mode.

  “It was a woman. She didn’t identify herself and she was very hesitant. She said she was calling about the body on the island, and that she thought she knew who it was.

  “I told her that she needed to speak to the police and gave her your name. Then she said, ‘I know, but...’ and stopped. And then she hung up.

  “To be honest, there were some kids screaming in the background and that might be why she hung up, but it just felt...strange. I even thought that her voice sounded familiar, but I can’t place it.”

  Michael nodded toward the phone. “Why don’t you check your machine? If she had to hang up because of the kids, she might have called back.”

  “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.” Amanda picked up the phone, punched out her number and then added the code when her recording came on. “Nothing,” she told him as she replaced the receiver. “Or at least if she did call back, she didn’t leave a message. What I don’t understand is why she called me in the first place, instead of calling the police.”

  “Maybe you’re right and it was someone who knows you.”

  “Yes, but in that case, why not identify herself? And why was she so hesitant? Besides, it couldn’t be someone who knows me all that well or I would have recognized her voice. She had one of those little-girl voices—and a definite lisp, as well.”

  She sighed. “I suppose I should have encouraged her more, but she really should have been talking to you, not to me.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see if she calls me. But if she should call you again, don’t worry so much about stepping on my toes. I’ll be glad for any help I can get at this point. We finally tracked down the last of the missing girls from that time, so I’m fresh out of possibilities.”

  “I understand that you spoke with my father,” she said. He’d called her about it earlier. Though he hadn’t come right out and said it, Amanda knew that he’d been angry that Michael could even suspect any of the families in this.

  Michael grimaced. “I don’t envy you, growing up with a father like that But he did make one good point that I should have thought of myself. Given the time lapse between when you all agreed to allow the new place to be built and the beginning of the actual construction, if the killer was someone in one of the families, he’d have had plenty of opportunity to move the body.”

  Amanda nodded, not at all surprised to hear Michael admit to his mistakes. It was part and parcel of that incredible self-confidence he had that she alternately envied and hated.

  “So now you’ve crossed us all off your list of possible suspects?” she asked with a smile.

  “I guess so, but I still can’t help thinking that there must be some connection between the body and the island. There are just too many other places she could have been buried—places that wouldn’t have required a boat.”

  He was right. She knew that, but didn’t want to admit it. “You know, we’ve never had any vandalism out there, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that there haven’t been any intruders. With only the one dock, it’s easy enough for anyone from the mainland to see if someone’s there. And given the girl’s age, I wonder if it could have been some kids sneaking out there to party—and then something happened.”

  “Yeah, that’s possible. I thought about that, too. The thing is, though, that they would most likely have left something behind. I talked to the caretaker. Mr. Thompson said he’s been working for the families for nearly thirty years, and he’s never seen any evidence of kids partying out there.”

  He was silent for a moment, then held up a hand placatingly. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk about the accident again—or about any possible connection it could have to the murder. But think about this.

  “If there is a connection, you could be in danger. The killer might start to worry that you could remember something. He left you both there for dead—except that you didn’t die, which must have come as a shock to him. Then, when he found out that you didn’t remember anything, he’d have begun to feel safe again—until the body was discovered.”

  “Michael...”

  “No! Hear me out! All I’m saying is that I think you should be careful—until I get him. Maybe I’m wrong. In fact, I hope I’m wrong. But in the meantime, I don’t want to be worrying about you.”

  Amanda was startled by the vehemence in his tone. Their eyes clashed as a silence grew between them, becoming heavier with each passing second.

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” she said finally, tearing her gaze away from his. “I can take care of myself—and there’s nothing to worry about anyway.”

  “You’re wrong about that,” he said in a softer voice.

  It was that sudden change in his tone that told her they were talking at cross-purposes. She’d meant that there was nothing to worry about because there was no connection between her accident and the murder—but she knew that wasn’t what he meant.

  “We should get back to the party,” she said, getting up and starting toward the door.

  Michael had remained standing and now he put out a hand to grasp her arm lightly. She stopped as the heat from him and that powerful male presence coursed through her.

  “I have something to say—and this time, you’re going to listen. Sit down.”

  She sat, not because she was obeying his order, but because she could sense that he was about as reluctant to speak as she was to listen. Whatever he was going to say, she was sure she couldn’t want to hear it, but she was equally certain that she should hear it. Maybe then it could end.

  “You’re actually going to listen to me?” he asked, clearly surprised.

  “I’m listening.”

  He ran a hand through his dark hair, confirming the nervousness she’d sensed beneath his order. She thought that if she weren’t so nervous herself, she might actually be enjoying this.

  “Okay, so here goes. This is how I see it. Part of it did have to do with what happened in court. And it wasn’t just that you embarrassed me. It was also because I knew you were enjoying it.”

  She started to protest, but he put out a hand to stop her. “You said you’d listen—so listen. Maybe I did want to get back at you, but not that way. In fact, it makes me wonder just what kind of man you think I am, if you believe that.

  “The simple truth is that I wanted you. I wanted you then—and I still do.” He looked away from her, shaking his head slowly.

  “You mess with my head, Amanda. I always felt like you were...unfinished business.” He stopped abruptly, then ran his hand through his hair again. “Am I making any sense?”

  “Maybe. Michael, are you having an affair with Je
sse?”

  His shocked expression gave her her answer even before he spoke. “What? Are you serious? Did she tell you that?”

  “No. I just thought...”

  “First of all, Steve’s a good friend of mine. And second, the truth is that I find her kind of pathetic. She came on to me a couple of times, and then, when she didn’t get the result she wanted, she apparently decided to look elsewhere.”

  Michael came over and leaned close to her, bracing his hands against the arms of the chair. Amanda drew back, but it wasn’t nearly far enough. She’d never seen him this angry before, but he clearly was now.

  “Dammit, I can’t believe you’d think that of me! Or does this all have to do with what happened between us? You think that I go after every attractive woman who crosses my path? And why did you enjoy making a fool of me that day in court, then come to my bed that night? What’s going on here, Amanda?”

  She forced herself to meet his fiery gaze. “I had a big crush on you in high school, but you never even knew I existed. Maybe that day in court was my way of getting even. You’re right did enjoy it.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “And why did you come to my bed that night?”

  “Because I wanted to.” She knew now—too late—that she should never have let this discussion begin. Somehow, she’d managed to forget about his annoying persistence.

  “You mess with my head, too, Michael.”

  “Even though you think I’m a scumbag who’s having an affair with your sister?”

  “I didn’t really believe it.”

  “But she made a good shield to use against me—just in case you got the urge again.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, that shield’s gone. So what happens now? Do we try our best to ignore each other until one of us can’t take it anymore and shows up on the other’s doorstep some night?”

  “That won’t happen,” she said as he backed away. But she was far less certain than she sounded—and she knew he knew that.

  WHEN THE PHONE RANG, Amanda had a sudden premonition about who it would be. It was much later than her previous call, and three days had passed—but somehow she knew.

  “It’s me again,” said the soft, lisping voice. “I didn’t mean to hang up, but the kids were fighting. They’re in bed now.”

  “That’s okay. I understand. You said that you thought you might know who the dead girl was.” Amanda hadn’t called the police in the interim. Michael had called her office and left a message just this afternoon.

  “I’m...not sure, but it could be her. I mean, she always said that she was going to get out of here—go down to the city, you know. That’s what everyone thought she did, but I think she would have told me. Said goodbye, you know.”

  Where had she heard that voice before? It was driving her crazy, but she was reluctant to ask any questions at all, lest the woman hang up again. So she said nothing.

  “Will they able able to identify her, do you think?”

  “No, I don’t think so—not unless someone helps.”

  “I told her that she was going to get herself in trouble, you know. But she always said that she was careful, that she didn’t just go with anyone.”

  Was she saying that the girl had been a prostitute? It sounded that way to Amanda, but she didn’t want to ask, in case she was wrong.

  “See, there was this woman we both knew, and she had this business, you know? She took the calls and then sent them out. She wanted me to do it, too, but I couldn’t.”

  Then she was silent for a long time as Amanda held her breath, wanting desperately to ask questions but fearing that anything she said would cause her to hang up again.

  “I think maybe it would be best if they never find out who it is. I mean, it was partly her own fault, anyway.”

  Amanda just couldn’t take it any longer. “But if she was your friend, don’t you want to see her killer caught?”

  “Yeah, I do, but... The thing is, you were real good to us. That’s why I...”

  Amanda was holding her breath again, and this time, she managed to curb her tongue. But a moment later, the woman hung up again.

  She sank into a chair, then grabbed a pen and some paper and began to write, not stopping until she had written down everything she could remember. It wasn’t easy, given the disjointed nature of the conversation—or monologue, really.

  When she had finished, she reviewed everything. There seemed to be no doubt that the girl she was talking about had been a prostitute. But why was the caller afraid to go to the police? Could it be that she feared the woman she’d mentioned, the one who “took the calls and then sent them out”?

  The woman was obviously a madam, but it didn’t seem likely that she’d still be in that business after twenty years. But that didn’t mean that she wasn’t still around and perhaps capable of causing trouble for the caller. Maybe she’d gotten respectable and wouldn’t want her name dragged into a scandal.

  Amanda looked at her notes and her gaze stopped at the last few lines. The caller had confirmed that she did in fact know her—but how?

  She sat there for a long time, thinking about it. Finally, she decided that it was most likely that the caller knew her from her days as a public defender. She’d had far more contact with families then. Since she came to the D.A.’s office, contacts with families of both victims and sometimes defendants were handled mostly by the victim-witness advocate.

  She had to find out who the caller was and why she was so afraid. But she’d handled literally hundreds of cases as a public defender. Maybe thousands, now that she thought about it.

  She reached for the phone to call Michael, then pulled her hand back again. It was late, and she thought about his statement that one of them would show up on the other’s doorstep some night.

  It could wait until tomorrow. Maybe she’d have a sudden burst of inspiration before then and remember where she’d heard that voice.

  Chapter Four

  “So you think she was involved in one of your P.D. cases?” Michael asked as he finished reading the “transcript” of her call.

  Amanda nodded. “I’m assuming she isn’t the one who was in trouble, but rather that it was someone close to her—father, brother, boyfriend, son. Well, I guess it couldn’t have been a son. She doesn’t sound old enough to have a kid in trouble.”

  Michael shrugged. “I think we can safely say that she’s about the same age as the victim—and she’d be thirty-seven or thirty-eight by now. So, yeah, she could have a kid old enough to have gotten into trouble—even four or five years ago.”

  Her disbelieving and then shocked expression amused him. Michael didn’t doubt that she tried hard to understand the people she dealt with—both here and at her previous job as a public defender—but it just didn’t always work. In her world, women didn’t have babies at fifteen or even at twenty.

  “Yes, you’re right,” she said finally. “But remember, I heard kids’ voices at the time of the first call—and they were young.”

  “There was a family in my building when I was growing up who had a total of twelve kids. The first batch was taken from them for neglect and abuse, so they just had a second litter. The age range went from one to twenty-three, as I recall.”

  She stared at him, but Michael couldn’t really be sure what she was thinking. He never was, when he was talking about his past. Maybe that was why he kept doing it.

  “Michael, how...?”

  She stopped abruptly and shifted her gaze briefly away from his. He had no idea what she intended to ask, but when she spoke again, her tone was all business.

  “I spoke to Jeff Green this morning.” Green was the chief public defender. “I really had no idea how many cases I might have handled when I was working there. His best guesstimate is at least a thousand, perhaps as many as fifteen hundred. And there’s no way to sort them out by computer. They can sort for client names and for type of crime and a few other things, but not for
the attorney who handled them.”

  “So the only way for you to find her would be to go through all their records to find your cases, and then check them all and see if any bells ring.”

  She nodded. “Or I can hope that she’ll call again. Maybe she will.”

  He got up and walked over to the windows. Michael was always restless, she’d noticed, but never more so than when he was sitting across that big desk from her.

  “Well, she’s given us something, anyway. Apparently no one reported the victim missing because everybody thought she’d gone down to the city. And she was apparently a hooker—a teenage hooker. I think Sam Hadley, who heads up vice now, was already on the force twenty years ago, and working in vice even then. I’ll talk to him.”

  “You won’t have to wait long. I have an appointment with him in just a few minutes. He has a case he wants to discuss.”

  Michael nodded. “What do you make of those last statements of hers?” He returned to the desk and picked up the typed transcript, then quoted from it.

  “‘The thing is, you were real good to us. That’s why I...’”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean. As I said, she obviously believes I did her, or them, some favor.”

  “Right. But what about what she started to say after that?”

  Amanda frowned. “I assume she meant to say, ”That’s why I called you, instead of the police.”’

  Michael wasn’t so sure. If it was the reason she gave, then why did the woman hang up again? Something didn’t feel right to him, but before he could pursue it, Amanda’s secretary rang to say that Lieutenant Hadley had arrived.

  “HUMPH! Twenty years ago, huh?” Lieutenant Hadley shook his gray head. “Sometimes I can’t remember what happened last week—and you’re asking me about twenty years ago?”

  “Yeah, right,” Michael said with a grin. “I’ve heard your stories, Hadley. Either you’re making them all up, or your memory’s just fine.”

  “Could be a bit of both,” Hadley responded with a twinkle in his eyes. “Okay, let’s see. There was something going on back then that could be what you’re looking for. The only trouble is that I don’t think you’re going to find any records, because to the best of my recollection, no arrests were ever made.”