Devilishly Short #1

by Destiny Ford

  I got out of my Jeep as a jacked-up black Ford truck with tinted windows roared past me at breakneck-speed and careened down the road. I scowled at the truck, angry that I’d been pulled over when, clearly, the truck driver needed a speeding ticket. Officer Bob seemed unconcerned, however, so I went back to my original plan. I pulled my v-neck sky blue shirt down and crossed my arms under my chest, propping my boobs up. If college taught me one thing, it was how to use boob manipulation. With the girls at their perkiest, I walked up to Officer Bob’s door and pasted on my most charming smile before bending down to look at Bob. His round cheeks and gradually receding hairline made him seem older than he was. He was taking great effort to ignore me so I knocked on his window to the tune of shave-and-a-haircut.

  Unable to overlook me any longer, Bob pressed the automatic window button. As the glass rolled down, a merciful wave of cool air hit me from inside his car. “I could arrest you for gettin’ out of your car, you know.” He said it like he thought he was Eric Cartman from South Park. I half expected him to flash his badge and tell me to “respect his authoritah.”

  “Arrest me for what?”

  “Standin’ there. You’re threatenin’ me. I could Taser you.”

  “I’m threatening you?” I held my palms out to show him I wasn’t holding anything. “With what?”

  “It doesn’t matter what you’re usin’,” he said, trying to pull his eyes away from my chest. “I just have to feel like you’re a threat.” He started fiddling with a black leather pouch on his belt, which he seemed to be having a problem opening because he had to detour around his stomach to get the pouch unlatched.

  I put my hands on the window seal and leaned into the squad car. “Bobby Burns,” I said with a warning glare, “if you even think about using a stun gun on me, you’ll be the star of a front page news story about police misconduct.”

  Bobby pointed at me with a pudgy finger. “That’s another threat.”

  “No, it’s a promise. I’m the editor of the Tribune, Bobby. You probably shouldn’t get on my bad side.” I couldn’t tell if the sweat on his upper lip was the result of fear, or the heat seeping into his squad car now that the window was down. I decided to appeal to his sense of nostalgia. “Look, Bobby. We grew up together. You’re a nice guy. I only moved back to Branson a few weeks ago and I’m late for a story. I need to get to the Crandall farm before their pig turns back to a normal color. What do I have to do to get out of here without a ticket?” Since the manager at McDonald’s makes more money than me, I really couldn’t afford a ticket and was willing to listen to any alternatives.

  Bobby pulled his aviator sunglasses down slightly, looking at me over the top of the frame. “Are you tryin’ to bribe me?”

  “No! I’m trying to do my job.”

  “Too bad. Bribin’ might’ve worked.”

  At that moment, a static voice crackled from Bobby’s police radio, “All units needed immediately at Emerald Lake. A body—” Bobby reached over faster than any turtle should be able to move and turned the radio volume down.

  He glanced at me while he fastened his seat belt. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, Kate. I gotta go.”

  I looked from Officer Bob to the radio, tightening my hands on his open window. “What’s going on, Bobby?”

  He shook his head and started his squad car. “Can’t tell ya, just thank your stars ya didn’t get a ticket.”

  With that, he hit the button to roll up the window. I stepped back as he shifted the car into gear and his tires squealed as he sped away.

  I wasn’t about to let him leave without me though. I’d heard enough to know there was a body at Emerald Lake, and I was going to find out why. The pig would have to wait. I jumped in my Jeep and followed Officer Bob.

  Emerald Lake is usually a popular recreation spot for Branson residents, but today, police cars, ambulances, and the coroner’s car were scattered across the park.

  A body had been pulled from the lake and was now lying on the ground covered by a stark white sheet. Water slowly seeped through the colorless fabric. I moved in closer, trying to get a better look before police erected a tent to shield the scene from onlookers. Officer Bob stepped in front of me putting his hand up, palm out, to stop me before I could get around the police tape.

  “Hey, Bobby. Long time no see,” I said. “If you’re here, who’s on light duty?”

  “Dagnabbit, Kate! You weren’t supposed to follow me.”

  “Yeah. Bad timing that you were pulling me over when you got that call. Want to tell me what happened and let me take a look around?” I held up my camera trying to appeal to his sense of importance. “I’ll quote you in the paper and take your photo.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t do it. We’re conductin’ a serious investigation.”

  “Bobby,” I said, trying to reason with him. “This is probably the biggest news story in Branson history! I need to know what happened and I need to get some photos.”

  “You can get photos after the body’s taken away.”

  “I wasn’t going to take photos of the body! Geez, what kind of person do you think I am?”

  Bobby wrinkled his nose. “You’re part of the liberal media. Can’t be trusted.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m a reporter for the Branson Tribune, Bobby. I don’t have an agenda. Come on, there has to be something I can do to get past the police tape.”

  “Sorry, Kate,” he said, rubbing his thumb over his badge like he was trying to shine it. “Can’t do it.”

  We each held our ground, glaring at each other in some sort of staring standoff until I heard a deep voice say, “That’s fine, officer, she’s with me.”

  Bobby glanced behind me and seemed to wither before my eyes. I turned around to see a tall, broad shouldered man with sandy brown hair, tan skin, and hard green eyes stroll up next to me. Bobby took an immediate step back, clearly intimidated.

  I was a little unsettled myself, but mostly confused. “I am?”

  He cocked his head, giving me a half smile. “You are,” he confirmed.

  He flashed some sort of badge at Bobby. Bobby clenched his jaw and then relented. “All right, you can go.” He pointed at me. “But if I get in trouble for this from the chief, you’re gonna owe me a favor.”

  I nodded as I passed through the barrier, smiling at the back of the man who could easily be a model—or the leader of a Black Ops team. The guy was dressed in gray cargo pants, black combat boots, and a dark blue tee shirt, which he filled out nicely. I could see the bottom half of a black tattoo on his bicep and kept mentally reminding myself to breathe as I caught up with him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “but, I’m not sure who you are.”

  He stopped, turned, and looked at me in a way that demanded all of my attention. “I’m Ryker Hawkins. People call me Hawke.”

  The name didn’t ring a bell—and he was definitely someone I would have remembered. “I’m Kate Saxee,” I said, holding out my hand. He shook it firmly at first, but then softened his grip, letting his hand linger.

  “I know,” he said.

  I stared at him, wondering what else he knew. He gently slid his hand out of mine.

  “And why did you decide to help me get into the crime scene, Mr. Hawkins?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “It’s just Hawke,” he said. “And I helped you because I think we both have skills that could be mutually beneficial to each other.” His gaze slid up and down my body as he said it.

  I narrowed my eyes. It didn’t seem like he was talking about work skills at all. “Professional skills, right?”

  He glanced down and gave me a smile that could only be described as naughty. I folded my arms across my chest in an attempt to hide my boobs. It was obvious he was well-aware of my assets and I wouldn’t need them for any manipulation. “What do you do?”

  “Today I’m a P.I.,” he answered.

  “You’re a private investigator?” I asked. “And what do you mean by “today�
�?”

  His lips lifted in a slow smile. “I can be anything you want me to be,” he said as his eyes darkened and my mouth fell open, “but these days I do a lot of contract work.”

  I picked my jaw up. “Contract work like you own a business, right? Not contract work like you kill people?”

  He didn’t answer, but leaned into me and smiled again instead. Hawke was only inches away and he smelled like a combination of salt, soap, and the beach. I closed my eyes as I took in the sexy scent that had overpowered all of my common sense. When I opened them again, he was watching me with an amused expression. It was obvious he’d noticed me trying to inhale him so it seemed like I should say something. “You smell really good,” I murmured weakly.

  “It’s called Swagger.”

  I lifted my brow. “I bet it is.”

  He looked past me before settling his gaze on my face again. “You want to find out whose body is under that sheet or what?”

  “Yes!”

  “Stay here for a minute. I’ll be back.”

  I’m not in the habit of letting people tell me what to do, but Hawke seemed to have more connections than me, and I didn’t want to get kicked out of the crime scene.

  Hawke talked to a few cops and the guy in the coroner’s shirt, and disappeared behind the tent for a few minutes before coming back. “The coroner is going to take the body soon. Once they’re gone, you can get photos.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Whose body is it?”

  “Can I trust you not to release the name or harass the family?”

  “What a silly question.”

  He gave me a level stare. “Is that a yes, or no?”

  “Yes, you can tell me.”

  “It’s a teenage girl. Her name was Chelsea Bradford.”

  Other books by Destiny Ford/Angela Corbett

  The Devil Drinks Coffee, A Kate Saxee Mystery, Book 1

  Eternal Starling

  Eternal Echoes

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