Don't Close Your Eyes

by Christie Craig

  She nodded.

  “Finding your cousin will get us halfway to solving this thing,” he said, hoping Fran Roberts hadn’t permanently disappeared.

  Annie sat completely still as if to take it all in. Then she took a deep breath. He recognized the haunted look in her eyes as the one he often saw in his own. Maybe they could help each other move past that—and if not past it, at least help each other forget for a while.

  She blinked, and he saw her try to pull the curtain over her pain. “Thank you.”

  “No thanks needed.” Studying her, he was hesitant to ask, but it had to be done. “Did you go to the park to…to see if it brings back any memories?”

  The soft blue of her eyes darkened.

  “I tried,” she said. “I drove there but I couldn’t get out of the car. I know it’s silly, but—”

  “Not silly,” he assured her. “But it’s something we should do sooner or later.”

  She nodded. “We should start eating or we’ll run out of time.” She grabbed a chair and pulled it around her desk for him, then pulled the salads out of the bag. “Are these the same?”

  “Yeah.” He took the salad she handed him. “I spoke with Brad, my friend with the garage. He said he can paint your car door for a hundred.”

  She looked up. “That’s awfully cheap.”

  “He named his price. Said to drop the car off tomorrow morning. He’ll try to have it for you by the afternoon.”

  “Thanks.” She stabbed a piece of chicken. “I didn’t like the attention I got driving it to work.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t think about that. What time do you get off? I might be able to give you a lift.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m a big girl.”

  No, she wasn’t. She was small, sweet, and even a little vulnerable. But he didn’t think she wanted to hear that.

  “I can take an Uber if I decide to. I’m fine.”

  He forked a bite of his salad. “I know. I’ve thought about just how fine all day.”

  She rolled her eyes. He laughed.

  “Did your building superintendent send someone to fix the window?” He’d stopped by the office this morning, insisted they get it done today.

  “Someone was working on it when I left.”

  They talked about her classes and college years. He tried to bring up Dr. Murdock. Maybe she’d be willing to see him. Perhaps Murdock could pull up more of her memories and try to figure out what parts of the dream were true. But he couldn’t work it into the conversation.

  Considering how he hated seeing a shrink, he worried she’d feel the same. Then again, she wanted to find the truth. He knew his own truth and was trying to forget it.

  “You like cherry tomatoes?” He enjoyed watching her eat.

  “Love ’em.”

  “Here.” He held the tomato to her lips. She took the tomato into her mouth. Seeing her lips wrap around the fruit sent a jolt of need below his belt.

  Moving from his chair, he sat on the edge of her desk and kissed her again.

  It went from hot to hotter. When his jeans became crowded, he pulled back and ran a finger over her lips. “You wouldn’t have a supply closet handy, would you?”

  She slapped his chest playfully.

  “I’m joking. Mostly.”

  “What do I owe you for lunch?”

  “Nothing. It was seven bucks and well worth your company.”

  “I’m buying next time.”

  “How about you buy dinner tonight? I know this great hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant by my house. Afterward, you come over and meet Bacon.”

  “I…can’t. I told Isabella I’d have dinner with her.”

  He had to work to hide his disappointment. “Okay.”

  “Rain check?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” How many times had he refused to see a woman the night after having slept with her? A back-to-back sleepover made it feel…serious. No matter how good the sex was, serious was scary. No matter how much he liked Annie, serious wasn’t exactly what he was offering.

  Was that her motivation for saying no?

  A better question was why the hell he’d suggested it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After lunch, Adam Harper pulled up at Doris Roberts’s house. He’d gotten the address from Jennifer. Jennifer, whom he’d given a come-to-Jeezus talk about repeating anything she heard from his office. She’d apologized and explained that because he’d been laughing about it, she thought it was a joke.

  He couldn’t argue. He’d told a bunch of people, too, thinking it was funny. Maybe he owed himself a come-to-Jeezus talk.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t take his job seriously, it was that his job was seldom serious. The biggest case he’d investigated lately was Pauline Patterson’s stolen glider. Sure, they had a few arrests for weed, a couple DUIs, and too many domestic violence cases, but Pearlsville’s aging population just didn’t cause much trouble.

  When he’d taken over as sheriff, he’d been a father of two teens and a husband to a gem of a gal. He’d had everything to live for, and lower crime meant a longer life expectancy. Now that his girls were grown and gone and his wife passed, he wouldn’t mind a few good cases. He supposed he just didn’t have that much to live for anymore.

  He pushed that thought aside. He’d moved past the depression, but he needed to find something to fill his time with besides work.

  His daughters, who lived in Dallas and Houston, suggested he find a hobby. But building a ship in a bottle or chasing a golf ball had never been his thing. His two sons-in-law suggested he get on the Internet and meet women.

  He liked their suggestion better.

  And he might do that just as soon as the idea of doing it stopped feeling like a betrayal to his wife. Then again, it had been five years. Maybe it would never stop.

  He got out of his car. The house, a mile from George Reed’s place, was just as secluded as her brother’s, not nearly as old, but it could win yard-of-the-month. Colorful flowers and manicured beds.

  As pretty as the house looked, his gut labeled it a façade. Dysfunction lived there.

  He took one step when the garage door groaned open. A woman holding a ten-pound bag of mulch walked out.

  She saw him, shrieked, dropped the mulch, and shot back in the garage.

  He recognized her and her scream. The same woman who’d pointed a BB gun at his face. The garage door started lowering, but not before he spotted the car. A red 2016 Malibu.

  He rushed to the door and knocked. Knocked again. “Open the door!”

  “Leave or I’ll get my gun again!” came the reply.

  Well, shit!

  * * *

  By two thirty, Mark had chased down the last lead on Johnny. He’d hoped to get something, but he got shit. He’d called Johnny two more times. Johnny hadn’t called back.

  Remembering his morgue appointment, his mood nosedived.

  With some time to spare, he went to the coffee shop, got a cup of coffee, and parked his ass at a table. He pulled out Annie’s case notes, hoping to be ready for the case update with Connor and Juan.

  But he ended up thinking about Annie. About her no-show vote for tonight. About how damn disappointed he was. At her for not accepting, and at himself for asking. Breaking his own rule.

  After so long of not being that invested in a woman, being invested now shocked his system. What was it about Annie that sucked him in? Sure, she was beautiful. But he’d done beautiful before.

  It was more. It was her halo. Her intelligence. The familiar, haunted look he sometimes saw in her eyes. It was the blend of spunk and vulnerability. Sweet yet sassy. It was the peace he felt when he was with her.

  His phone rang. Hoping it was Johnny, he answered without checking the screen. “Detective Sutton.”

  “You ain’t gonna believe this shit.”

  “What shit?” Mark recognized Sheriff Harper’s voice.

  “Guess what I spotted in Doris Roberts’s garage?”

  �
�What?” he asked, less than thrilled with the old man’s way of dispensing information.

  “A red Malibu.”

  “Fran’s there?”

  “Her car is. No one will open the door. I’m thinking Ms. Roberts isn’t here. I did see the other sister. The one with mental issues. She saw me and ran inside. When I insisted she open the door, she threatened to get her gun.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah. I called Jenny and asked about her aunt Doris’s whereabouts. She said her aunt worked part-time for a used car lot in the next town over. I called the brother, George, and he’s not answering. Neither are any of the other Reeds. I suspect someone will be home by dinnertime. So I’m parking my ass in this car and sweating my balls off until someone shows.”

  Mark ran a hand through his hair, remembering what he’d told Annie. Finding your cousin will get us halfway to solving this thing.

  He needed more info to present to Connor and Juan about this case. He needed to be there. Connor and Juan could attend the show-and-tell at the morgue. The only thing pressing was waiting for calls, he could do this.

  Hell, by missing the trip to the morgue, he’d save himself a chip of his soul.

  “I’m on my way.”

  * * *

  Adam sat in the car wondering about the first sign of heat stroke.

  Every five minutes, he’d turn his car on and point the air vents in his face. It took three minutes to cool off but two to get hot again after cutting the engine off. He’d have kept the car running, but the dang thing was on its last life.

  He’d told the county he needed a new one, they’d told him they couldn’t afford one.

  He saw the curtain flutter in the window. Whether it was just Sarah Reed, or the missing cousin, was anyone’s guess. But no way in hell was he leaving and let that red Malibu disappear and make him look like a fool.

  Especially with Sutton headed this way.

  Adam glared at his watch. Did the green-behind-the-ears cop drive like an ol’ woman?

  In all fairness, it’d only been forty-five minutes, but when miserable, you wanted company.

  He heard a car. Using some rescued napkins from the diner, he wiped off his forehead and prepared himself to meet Sutton. He got out of the car and saw the purple Cadillac, needing shocks, bouncing down the dirt driveway.

  He didn’t see Sutton driving a Cadi the color of a grape Tootsie Roll Pop.

  The car pulled around his cruiser and parked in front of the garage.

  Out of that car, wearing a dress two sizes too small, came Doris Roberts. It wasn’t that she didn’t have a good figure, she did, but between the Texas hair, too-thick makeup, and tight clothes, she looked like she worked on a corner.

  Her car door slamming filled the hot air. Smiling, she came strutting over. “I always was a sucker for a guy in a uniform.”

  “Ma’am.” He made a mental note to wear street clothes next time.

  “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

  If nervous, she was hiding it. Or good at lying. “I wanted to ask—”

  “Not in the heat,” she said. “Come on inside. I’ll make you some iced tea. I’ll even put a splash of something in it.”

  “Can’t drink while on the job.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re a rule follower.”

  “I try.”

  She moved to the door. Adam dagged her steps, noting, but not appreciating the exaggerated sway of her hips. It was nice knowing he wasn’t desperate enough to go for it.

  As she unlocked the door, he added, “Your sister saw me, so you might want to make sure she knows it’s you. Wouldn’t want her to accidentally shoot the wrong person.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “I like a man with a sense of humor, too.”

  “I wasn’t joking.”

  “Sarah. I’m here.” Ms. Roberts motioned Adam inside.

  Sarah stood in the doorway. “He’s been watching our house,” she said, sounding like a ten-year-old tattling.

  “It’s fine. Why don’t you read while the sheriff and I visit?”

  “I wanna work in the flower beds.”

  “Then go.” Ms. Roberts led him into the kitchen. A kitchen that looked cleaner than the local diner on health-inspection day. “Have a seat.”

  “I prefer to stand.”

  She pulled a pitcher from the fridge, set it on the counter, and turned around. “You’re here about Jenny, aren’t you?”

  “In part.”

  “I wish I could tell you more, but there’s nothing to tell. Jenny went missing. We called the police.” She filled two glasses with ice and tea. She topped off one glass with whiskey.

  “What did you tell the police?”

  “I recall mentioning Fran had seen her playing in the river. Of course, there were those scary bikers camping there, too. Poor child. No telling what she endured.”

  The ice crackled and popped in the glasses. She handed him the virgin one.

  She didn’t know he’d seen the car and he decided to use it. “You have a child, right?” He sipped his tea. With his body’s core temperature still right at a hundred, it felt good going down.

  “Sure do. Tell me…Adam, right?”

  “Sheriff Harper,” he said.

  She blinked away the flash of discontent. “How does your wife stand it, a good-looking man like yourself going into lonely women’s homes?”

  Adam touched his gold band with his thumb. “I’m doing a job. Tell me about your daughter? Did—”

  “Now why would you care about Fran?”

  “A detective in Anniston is trying to reach her. Your daughter seems to be missing. Her ex-husband filed a police report.”

  “Don should know better. Fran gets in her moods and takes off somewhere to be by herself.”

  “She came to her uncle’s funeral, right?”

  “Of course. She’s a good daughter, just still finding herself. She’ll show up in a few days.”

  “Was she upset at the funeral?”

  “No.”

  He frowned. “We heard she seemed—”

  “Fine,” she conceded. “She was upset and drunk. Her uncle had died.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No. Just up and left.”

  “And you…let her go?”

  “Why would I stop her? She’s an adult.”

  “Because you said she was drunk.”

  For the first time, Ms. Roberts appeared genuinely annoyed. “She’s a big girl.”

  And drunk big girls die while driving drunk. “So she just drove off.”

  “How many times do I have to say it?”

  Enough to catch you in a lie. A knock shattered the kitchen silence.

  * * *

  “Details, and don’t gloss over the sexy parts!” Isabella pulled out glasses while Annie opened the wine.

  Annie had finished her classes and gone home to dish out food and love to Pirate. The quietness of her apartment drove her thoughts to her conversation with her mom. The idea that her mother was in any way involved in Jenny’s disappearance rocked Annie’s already shaky foundation.

  What if by reporting this, she got her mother sent to jail? Annie’s lungs suddenly felt oxygen deprived. Telling herself her mom was innocent wasn’t cutting it. So when she saw Isabella’s car pull up, she snatched a bottle of wine and headed next door.

  Annie pulled out the cork. It made a pop that echoed in her still-tight chest.

  “Start talking.” Isabella rubbed her hands together.

  Annie offered a half-felt grin. “It was good.”

  “Wait. Good, or great?”

  Bottle opened, she carried it to the table and poured. “Great.”

  “No first-date awkwardness?”

  Annie sipped her wine. Flavors of cherry and chocolate danced on her tongue. But her mind danced on something else. “I slept with him. That was awkward.”

  “Stop beating yourself up. You’re an adult. He’s an adult. You didn’t hurt
anyone.” She paused. “He didn’t pressure you, did he?”

  “No. It was me.”

  “Yes! I love a woman who goes for what she wants.”

  “I don’t know what made me do it.” She closed her eyes a second. “Oh, God, Isabella. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

  “Quit worrying.” Isabella sipped her wine. “Has he called?”

  “He called this morning. We had lunch together.”

  She clinked her glass against Annie’s. “Has he asked you out again?”

  “He suggested we go out tonight.”

  “Then why the hell are you here?”

  “I’d already agreed to meet you and…”

  “And what?”

  “I’m scared. It happened so fast, and he’s investigating what happened to Jenny. That first time I went to see him, he thought I was crazy. What if he finds out about me being fired for reporting those kids? Or about my arrest for breaking the restraining order?”

  “You haven’t told him about that?” Isabella asked.

  “No, it wasn’t anything to do with Jenny. And it’s not something you tell some guy on the first date. Not even the tenth date. I’m done with guys thinking I’m crazy.”

  “It was only your ex,” Isabella said.

  No, it wasn’t. It was my friends, my boss. It was that little voice of doubt inside me. Annie dropped into a kitchen chair. “I finally find a guy who tempts me to dip my toe back into the whole dating scene, and it happens to be the one who can, and probably will, learn all my ugly secrets.”

  “Hey, they’re not ugly. You were concerned about some kids. And the reason you did it was because of all this shit.”

  Isabella was right, but…“It still makes me look crazy. I got this bad feeling.”

  “Then tell him.”

  “What if he stops looking into the case. Or—”

  “Then don’t tell him. But don’t let it destroy what might be something good. Which reminds me, you haven’t really told me how good.” A tell-me smile passed on her lips.

  Annie sipped her wine. “It was awesome.”

  Isabella squealed. “That good, huh?”