Don't Close Your Eyes

by Christie Craig

  At least Mark knew for sure it was the right family. “Will you touch base with me when you know something?”

  “You bet your bottom dollar.”

  Mark sat there. Not liking it, but he’d bet his own bottom dollar he’d be making an apology to Annie.

  “One more thing,” Mark said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your receptionist. She knows not to repeat things, right?”

  “You worried?”

  “It’s just Ms. Lakes lives in Anniston, and considering she might end up being a witness, I wouldn’t want anyone there to know who she is.”

  “I see. I’ll make sure Jenny knows not to say anything.”

  * * *

  Mark texted Juan and Connor the information he’d gotten on Cash. They were heading out to check on the leads. Mark told them he’d meet up with them after lunch. He went right to the office and spent two hours going through old case files.

  He’d gone through fifteen boxes, each one less organized than the one before. Anything dated earlier than 1995 appeared to have been shoved randomly in boxes.

  Mildred walked in and stopped short when she saw him surrounded by boxes and files stacked on every flat surface of the room, including the floor. Frankly, until she’d walked in, he hadn’t realized the mess he’d created.

  “What the heck is this?”

  He frowned. “Looking for an old case file. Nothing’s organized. Not alphabetically or by date.”

  “I thought you had the Talbot files.”

  “Not that case. It’s about Annie Lakes.”

  “Who?”

  “The woman in pink.”

  “The one you thought was crazy?” Mildred frowned at the mess.

  “Yeah,” Mark admitted.

  “Is she?”

  “What?”

  “Crazy?”

  He exhaled. “I don’t know yet.”

  “Well, she can’t be worse than that reporter.”

  “True.”

  Mildred grinned. “I recall warning you about her.”

  “I know.”

  “Say it,” she said.

  “What?”

  “That I was right.”

  He frowned. “You were right.”

  She put a hand over her heart. “That felt good.”

  He exhaled. “Why do I like you?”

  “Because I dish out good advice.”

  He smiled. “So what advice do you have for me now, wise one?”

  “Go eat something. That wrinkle between your eyes tells me you’ve got a headache on the way. I’m heading to lunch, too, when I come back, I’ll help you look.”

  “That’s why I like you.” He watched Mildred leave. His stomach grumbled. A slight painful thump at his temple proved her right. Had he eaten breakfast? No.

  Frustrated, he plopped down in his desk chair. He found the paper with Annie’s numbers.

  He dialed her cell phone. Got voice mail. He hung up. Her work number got him another recording. He didn’t leave a message. After the last one he’d left, he owed her a real talk. Face-to-face.

  Anniston Junior College was close. He had no idea of her schedule. She might not even be working, but he could find out. Maybe he’d offer to buy her lunch along with his apology.

  The thought of seeing her again made all sorts of ideas start forming. Ideas that took him to places he didn’t need to go. Hell, being smack-dab in the middle of a murder investigation wasn’t the time to get involved. But he owed the woman an apology and possibly a burger.

  The vision in pink filled his head. He remembered the sheriff’s description of the other Reed. The kind of curves that make a man dizzy. Definitely cousins.

  He put on his mental brakes so fast his brain got whiplash. This was police business. Nothing else.

  His libido and his empty stomach groaned. He had an hour for lunch to kill. Why not kill it with her in a complete uninvolved way?

  He took off.

  When he got into his car, he noticed last night’s dinner mess on the passenger seat. He started to toss it in the back, but spotted the trash can beside his car.

  Trash in hand, he got out and, opening the back door, started snatching up a week’s worth of fast-food bags. With one of the crumpled-up handfuls, he caught a piece of flimsy material. Flimsy, sexy material.

  His eyes widened.

  A slinky pair of silk and lace black panties dangled from his thumb. Talk about a Happy Meal toy for adults.

  The last woman he’d had in his car had been Mildred when he took her to pick up her car from the shop. The lacy, barely-there underwear did not belong to Mildred. Judith?

  No. Couldn’t be.

  The Mustang had been detailed two weeks back.

  Where…?

  Annie Lakes?

  He remembered her tossing her purse into his backseat. The visual of her leaning over to collect something that had fallen out filled his head. It had been a nice view, too.

  Being a man, and a suspicious man, he half-wondered if she’d left the panties on purpose. If so, it was a bold move. But what man didn’t like bold moves?

  Not the time to get involved. He repeated the mantra. But damn it, his little head wasn’t listening. He tucked the panties into his pocket, tossed the trash in the garbage, and went to pay Annie Lakes a visit.

  Chapter Seven

  Does everyone understand the assignment?” On the blackboard Annie wrote the page numbers of the short story that appeared in the English Lit book. She looked over her shoulder at her class.

  Heads nodded.

  “Good.” She refrained from nodding back. Last night’s wine had done her in.

  After hearing the detective basically tell her via voice mail to go find herself a shrink, Annie had welcomed the first, second, and third glasses of Merlot. It hadn’t solved her problems, but the alcohol’s numbing effect had felt pretty good, then.

  This morning, she realized all she’d done was postpone the obvious. She had to talk to her mom. Especially when an Internet search on Jenny Reed had resulted in zilch.

  Every time she considered how the conversation with her mom would go, she felt sick. Hell, maybe she should try to forget everything, follow the detective’s advice and get herself professional help. Again. Maybe her cat wasn’t enough after all.

  And perhaps Annie needed to grow a pair and go back to the park. If it really happened there, she might remember…something.

  The classroom door swished open. Annie looked up and…froze. Her head throbbed and her heart took a dive to hide behind her liver.

  Detective Sutton loomed in the doorway. He hadn’t even stepped inside, but his presence dominated the room. The first thing Annie noticed was…he didn’t have his sunglasses on, and he had the most drop-dead gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever seen. She should have guessed. Great body, great voice, great features. Great eyes completed the package.

  He pointed to an empty chair as if to say he’d wait.

  Annie didn’t want him waiting—or watching her. In spite of his appealing maleness, in spite of the fact that her core body temperature had probably risen five degrees due to his presence, she didn’t care to listen to him tell her again that she needed to get her head examined.

  “Why don’t we break early?” Annie’s gaze shifted around the class. “See you on Wednesday.”

  She heard the clatter of sounds—books shutting, feet scuffling, and her mind spitting out possibilities of how to deal with the detective.

  Walking to her desk, she started straightening things that didn’t need straightening. When the last student walked out, she glanced up.

  Detective Sutton remained seated, staring at her with those killer blue eyes.

  “Hello.” His masculine voice that could melt ice cream faster than August heat.

  Good thing she wasn’t ice cream. Determined not to melt, she walked around her desk and leaned her hip on the edge.

  “I’m surprised to see you.” But she was more surprised b
y the relentless attraction she felt. The man considered her a nutcase. Did her hormones have no shame?

  “You look surprised.” He stood up.

  As his big frame moved forward, Annie fought the desire to step back. To put the desk between them. But afraid he’d guess how affected she was by him, she didn’t move.

  He didn’t stop until he stood a foot in front of her. Twelve small inches.

  She could have used another six. Both of height and breathing room. She really didn’t like the way his presence made her feel too small, too aware of her own body. Too aware of his.

  Right then, she accepted that her hormones were hopelessly shameless.

  Today he wore a pair of khakis and a white button-down shirt. She’d seen the outfit numerous times when he’d come into the coffee shop. The shop she’d avoided today, unwilling to risk seeing him.

  His gaze whispered over her. “Pink’s better.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “It’s the same outfit. Blue is good. But the pink is better.”

  She glanced down at her clothes. Well, yeah, the outfits were similar but not identical. And who’d have guessed a man would notice?

  “You’re the fashion police?” She ran her fingers over the edge of her desk.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled with confidence and humor. “It’d probably be a promotion from the Cold Case Unit.” He studied her. Intently.

  This close, there was no telling what he saw.

  Perhaps her soul. Her mixed-up, mangled, mildly hungover soul. A soul that needed professional help. Or so he’d said.

  “I wasn’t being critical,” he said as if noting her frown.

  Maybe not. But last night’s message had been.

  She inhaled, unsure how she should play this. The woodsy scent of his skin filled her senses. Her hormones might have sold her out, but she had scruples. Weak scruples, but she relied on them.

  “Is there a reason for this visit?”

  The twitch of his brows told her he’d noted her less-than-welcoming tone. “A couple, actually.” He moved closer.

  “And they are?” In desperate need of space, no longer caring what he thought, she slipped to the side and put the desk between them.

  He picked up the framed picture of her mom and dad as if it being out gave him the right. She supposed it did, but it still annoyed her.

  After giving it a glance, he set it back down. “Adam Harper, the sheriff in Pearlsville, called me back.”

  A swallow of his spicy male-scented air caught in her throat. “And?”

  “It seems there was a Reed girl who came up missing twenty-four years ago.”

  It took her a second to believe, another to respond. “And?”

  “All we know now is that the missing girl is believed to be part of the Reed family. They’re trying to locate the old files.”

  I’m not crazy. The three words happy danced around her head and her heart, bumping into too many memories that made her question herself.

  “It’s possible that whatever happened to her took place here. In Anniston.”

  “At the park,” she said.

  “You knew this?” He lifted a brow.

  “My cousin…mentioned the park at the funeral.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because…she was drunk, and you already didn’t believe anything else I said.”

  He slipped his hand into his pocket. “Point taken. Have you been to the park to see if it jars your memory?”

  “Not yet.” She folded her hands together.

  His eyes lowered, he studied her so intently her skin itched. “You’re afraid to go there?”

  “No.” Her lie sharpened the edges of the word. And from his expression, he heard it, but the look in his eyes wasn’t judgmental.

  Their gaze held. Held to that point where it felt like too much, too intimate. She blinked. “So what do I need to do now?” All those years, all those doubts, all those lies her mom told. Annie felt a lump form in her chest.

  “You could go grab a bite of lunch with me.”

  “I mean about what I saw.”

  He kept his right hand in his pocket. “Well, it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what’s in the files. We’re looking for them here. The sheriff mentioned that she might have drowned, but her body was never found. If there’s enough in the file to—”

  “The fact that I saw her being buried isn’t enough?”

  “I’m not saying it won’t be, but we need to look at the files.”

  She nodded. He stared.

  She swallowed. He continued to stare.

  With another wave of relief came the realization of how all of this could affect her emotionally fragile mom. But Annie deserved answers. “Thank you.”

  It was his turn to nod. “Have you found your other cousin yet?”

  “No, I called her ex yesterday and left a message. I’m hoping he might know where I could reach her, but he hasn’t returned my call.”

  “Give me his number and I’ll call. He might be more likely to answer a police officer.”

  His willingness to help surprised her. Then again, hadn’t she gone to him because he seemed the type to care?

  She fought the need to chew on her lip. “I’ll text it to you later.”

  “Okay.” His gaze met hers. Silence danced between them. “You never answered me about lunch.” He seemed to swallow her with his eyes.

  “I can’t. I…have a class in twenty-five minutes.”

  “Hmm.” He tucked his right hand in his pocket again. His inquisitive expression told her he was trying to figure out if her refusal came because she really had a class or if she didn’t want to have lunch with him.

  To be honest, she was trying to figure that out, too. Oh, she did have a class, but even if she didn’t she wasn’t sure she’d go. See, she had some scruples.

  “You didn’t happen to lose something in my car, did you?”

  “What?” She toyed with a paper clip on her desk.

  “An article of clothing, perhaps?” His shoulders rose with the question and a certain gleam lit up his eyes.

  “A what?” Was he moving closer on purpose?

  He pulled something lacy from his pocket.

  Annie stared at the black underwear and fought to get the air down her throat when her lungs refused to work. She grabbed her purse from her bottom drawer, praying she’d find her pair of black panties crumpled in the bottom. But honestly, she knew.

  Knew the silk underwear he held in his hands was hers.

  And just what do you say to a guy standing there holding your favorite pair of panties?

  Lie. The voice screamed in her head. But she sucked at that.

  “This is embarrassing,” she managed to say. “They must’ve fallen out of my purse.”

  “Well, there went my fantasy.” His smile was half tease and half temptation. “I thought, hoped you’d left them there…”

  Her face flushed. “I would never—”

  Another apology flashed in his eyes. “I was joking. Mostly.” This time his smile was all temptation.

  The door swished open behind them. Four of her students walked in. The panties got tucked back into his jean pocket. He looked back at the students. “I guess I’d better run.”

  “Yeah.” The thought of ending this embarrassing moment suited her just fine. However, the man still had her panties in his pocket.

  He offered her a smile, one invisible but for the crinkle at one corner of his lips. He paused and then took off for the door.

  She watched him leave—with her underwear.

  But he didn’t get far. He stopped at the door—stood there, one second, two seconds, three.

  Don’t stop now. Don’t stop now.

  Turning around, he came right back to her. Each heavy-gaited step he took spoke of purpose—like he walked to the counter at the coffee shop—like a man who owned the room. Like he could own anything he wanted.


  His heated expression said he wanted her.

  And what woman wouldn’t be thrilled at that thought? The memory of his hand on her calf flashed in her head, the memory of the sweet thrill that simple touch had caused. For one short, inappropriate second, she considered how his touch would feel other places. Her heart rate picked up speed. Okay, so there went her scruples.

  He came all the way around the desk and stopped directly in front of her. “Have dinner with me tonight.” The low rumble in his voice echoed in her chest.

  He stood closer than before—not touching, but close enough that she could feel his words brush against her temple, feel his body heat. Feel her own body heat.

  He leaned in a breath nearer. The want in his eyes had her holding her breath. “Say yes.”

  “Isn’t that…against the rules?”

  He brushed the back of his fingers over his jaw line. The tingle shot right to her breasts, beading her nipples. “I’ve never been much of a rule follower. Not even my own.”

  “So you don’t think it would be a good idea, either?”

  He paused. And that pause said something. She just wasn’t reading what it was. A bad breakup? Or was it something worse?

  The question tumbled out of her mouth before she knew she planned to ask it. “Do you still think I’m crazy?”

  His hesitation vanished and his grin teased her better senses. “That depends on your answer.”

  She breathed in his scent again. Musky. Male. Too male. A little too self-confident. Ahh, but he wore the arrogance well. “So if I don’t go out with you, I’m crazy?”

  His right eyebrow arched ever so slightly. His blue eyes twinkled with something playful, something sweet, something she needed more of in her life.

  “Actually, I was thinking you’d be crazy if you did.” He hesitated as if gathering words. “My message last night, it came out wrong. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”

  A slight forgive-me smile almost reached his eyes when he brushed a strand of hair off her cheek and behind her ear. His two fingers lingered there. Her pulse fluttered against his touch.

  The apology—or maybe his touch—kicked her scruples to the other side of the room. Desire, want, and need washed over her. She wanted to feel his lips on hers—to have his arms around her. How would it feel to have someone that strong to lean on? Someone that strong to believe in her?