Cop by Her Side (The Mysteries of Angel Butte) (11 page)

Jane had trouble tearing her gaze from his throat, working as he swallowed. Beads of sweat ran down it, one heading for the hollow at the base. She’d never seen him without his shirt. Back when they dated, their kisses had gotten pretty steamy, but she had always called a halt before they actually started shedding clothes. Now...well, she was a little bit sorry.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to have to kiss you.”

To her shock, she realized he was watching her, heat in his eyes. Responding to what
he
saw in
her
eyes. Great timing, she thought, turning her head to cut off the sight of him altogether.

Remember what a jerk he was yesterday? Does that ring any bells?

She thought she heard a faint sigh from beside her.

“I had a call first thing this morning from the FBI.” His voice was neutral. “They had what sounded like a promising tip. We checked it out. Believe it or not, it was another domestic. Uglier than the last one, though, because this father wasn’t supposed to have any visitation at all. He was sexually molesting the girl.”

Sexually molesting
was one of the things Jane had been trying very hard not to think about in relation to Bree, even though she knew it was a horrifyingly realistic possibility. Maybe the most realistic possibility, assuming she’d stopped a car to ask for help, and the driver had instead abducted her.

Suddenly stricken, Jane thought,
I should
want
Clay to be right. Because—if he is—it means whoever has Bree took her for some other reason.

Any other reason would be better, wouldn’t it?

“You okay?” He laid a big hand over hers lying on her thigh.

His touch felt so good. He made her feel safe, and that scared her as much as anything. She couldn’t forget he’d humiliated her. She hadn’t felt safe at all, standing there listening to those salacious hoots as every one of the men he was talking to thought about what
he’d
like to do to her.

Somehow, though, she knew he’d never do anything like that again. Not to her, and not to any other woman.

“I’m okay.” She took a deep breath. “At least you rescued another girl.”

“Yeah. It’s good the publicity about Bree is making people pay attention to their instincts.”

“The little girl... Is she all right?”

“Mostly.” He sounded reserved enough she sneaked a glance to see a grim set to his mouth.

“Oh, no.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Do you think Bree’s dead?” Jane asked.

“No.” He scowled at her. “No, I don’t, damn it!”

His anger shouldn’t have reassured her, but did.

She gave a small nod, and looked down to see his hand still covered hers and had tightened. After a moment, she turned hers to return his clasp.

They sat sipping the iced coffee without talking for what had to be five minutes. Jane felt peculiar. People did pass on the path; a few even glanced at them. She wondered what they thought, a uniformed police officer holding hands with a woman in a public park. She found she didn’t much care.

Clay finally made a grumbly sound in his throat and said, “I’d better be getting back.”

“Me, too. Or getting there, at least. Drew and I were going to meet up at the hospital.” She suspected she was late, but didn’t much care about that, either.

He tossed his cup into a nearby trash container, and she followed suit. “Good shot,” he murmured.

Clay finally let go of her, stretching his arms above his head, popping and crackling, before he groaned and rose to his feet. He took her hand and drew her to her feet, pulling her close to him as he’d done during that last, tumultuous scene at the café.

His eyes, so sharp and startlingly blue, searched hers. “You okay if I kiss you?”

Was she? she wondered in a miniburst of panic caused most of all by the fact that right this second, she didn’t care about her many qualms, either. She
wanted
to kiss him.

Not letting herself hesitate, Jane rose on tiptoe and blindly sought his mouth with hers. He groaned again, but this time the sound rose from deep in his chest. Their lips pressed together like two twelve-year-olds in their first kiss. Embarrassed at her awkwardness, Jane might have pulled back, but he didn’t let her. His big hand slid around the back of her neck, anchoring her and squeezing in a way that felt unbelievably good. He gently rubbed his lips against hers, then nuzzled her. The next thing she knew, she’d let him in and his tongue was stroking hers. Her whole body weakened, a sensation she’d never felt before with any other man, and one she wasn’t sure she liked. It was classic—she was melting, softening, ready to be pliant to meet his needs. But, oh, they felt like her needs, too.

“God, Jane,” he muttered against her mouth. “Do you know how much I’ve missed you?”

She was a little shocked to realize how much she had missed him, too. She hadn’t let herself think of it like that.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, opening her eyes.

“I don’t, either.” He rested his forehead against hers and for a moment that was all they did—they leaned against each other, until her legs began to feel strong enough to hold her again, and she could carefully separate herself from him.

The expression on his rough-hewn face was strange, as if he felt as shaken as she did.

It was just a kiss, she tried to tell herself. Tame. He hadn’t even groped her, although her breasts ached as if he had. Oh, God. Imagining his hand enclosing her breast, Jane felt a painful stab of longing.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” he said hoarsely, “don’t.”

“What?”

“You heard me. It’s all I can do not to lay you on the grass as it is.”

A cramp low in her belly told her she might not have resisted. “Anyone could see us.”

“That’s what’s stopping me.” Muscles in his jaw flexed. “Let’s go.”

They walked toward the parking lot in silence, Jane conscious of how hot her cheeks were. Wonderful. Where was her common sense? She and it needed to have a little chat.

Like a gentleman, Clay accompanied her to her car, waited while she got in, then said, “I’ll see you at the hospital,” and closed her door.

* * *

D
REW
W
ILSON
DIDN
’
T
even seem to notice that Clay was there, as far as he could tell.

He jumped to his feet as Clay and Jane entered the glass-walled room. “She squeezed my hand! I swear she did, Jane.”

She smiled at him. “That’s great.”

Clay’s eyes narrowed as he saw that Drew seemed to be reaching for her, but Jane adroitly slipped past him as if she hadn’t noticed and stood at her sister’s bedside.

“Her face looks more...” She seemed to grope for the right word.

Clay, who’d walked around to the other side, could see what she was getting at.
Alive
was the word that came to mind, but he doubted Jane or Drew would appreciate it. “Like she’s only sleeping,” he said.

Her grateful gaze met his. “Yes.”

“How are we going to tell her about Bree?” Drew asked.

Clay couldn’t help thinking the guy had made a fairly giant leap. Apparently he had sudden, unshakable faith that his wife would be opening her eyes any minute. Didn’t he know she might be permanently damaged?
But, hell,
he thought,
if she was my wife, I might not be letting myself think about that, either.

If this was Jane.

Don’t go there,
he warned himself. But, damn,
she
had kissed
him.
He couldn’t be wrong about that. He didn’t know how they’d gotten there, after yesterday’s debacle, but it felt good. Unbelievably good.

“What’s the doctor say?” Jane was asking.

Drew answered, and they went on speculating. Clay didn’t even try to listen. He kept watching Jane, seeing hope soften features that had been too tight these past days, but noticing, too, that her gaze kept shying from his, and either she’d gotten some sun while they were at the park or she was blushing.

And I,
he reminded himself,
am standing at the bedside of a woman who is in a coma and who doesn’t yet know her daughter is missing.

He wished like hell she
would
open her eyes. Clay was beginning to fear that any hope of finding Brianna Wilson was locked in the unconscious woman’s brain.

“I need to get back to work,” he said abruptly. “Jane, you’ll let me know how it goes?”

Her eyes flashed to his. “Yes. Of course I will. And...and you’ll call me if you learn anything?”

“You know I will.”

He hated to leave, but had no choice. The worst part was this worm of jealousy eating at his gut, even though Clay knew—or thought he knew—he was being completely irrational. Jane was fond of her brother-in-law, was filled with sympathy and fellow feeling, that was all. He was probably imagining the vibe he got from Drew suggesting there was something more.

Well, he was willing to bet Jane had never kissed Drew the way she’d kissed Clay today. The memory relaxed him and even had him smiling as he left the hospital.

* * *

J
ANE
TURNED
ON
the desktop computer and waited for it to hum to life. She could hear Disney’s
The Little Mermaid
singing from the family room. Alexis claimed it was her absolute favorite movie, although Jane worried because there were some pretty scary scenes in it that might have new impact now.

Leaving the hospital to pick up Alexis, she’d casually asked Drew if he’d mind if she used his computer.

“Huh? Oh, sure,” he’d said, and she wasn’t even sure he had really heard her. But she’d covered her ass, which was what she had been going for.

Not that she’d totally made up her mind then that she was going to do what Clay had asked of her. She still hadn’t.

Really? Then what am I doing on my sister and brother-in-law’s computer?

She could check her email, maybe play a computer game.

An unpleasant knot in her belly told her what she already knew: she
had
made up her mind. And, while she didn’t expect Drew for a while, he could walk in the door at any time.

She’d already checked desk drawers for a checkbook, but failed to find one. Come to think of it, what had happened to Lissa’s purse? She’d surely had it with her, and if either of them routinely carried the checkbook, it would be her.

Jane had heard her sister say she paid most of her bills online, though, and given her expertise with QuickBooks, Jane was guessing she kept track of her own finances the same way.

Turned out she was wrong. She found a budget that Lissa must have cooked up a while back, since it incorporated Drew’s salary. It included after-school care for Bree and day care for Alexis, a really staggering amount that had Jane gaping. Had it really made sense for Lissa to keep working back when it meant
both
kids had to be in day care? A few calculations gave her the answer: no. But Lissa had scoffed at the idea of being a housewife.

Wow,
Jane realized,
I wouldn’t be able to afford to keep working if I had two kids, either.
Not the kind of thing she’d thought about when she was halfway dreaming of having her own family. And—had her dreams included dropping her children off at a preschool every morning and not picking them up until six?

Abandoning the budget and hoping neither Drew nor Lissa would ever notice the program had been opened on a day when neither of them could have been sitting down at the computer, Jane went online. She scrolled down their list of favorites and found their bank. When she went to the log-in page, she found the user name was saved, thank goodness.

Again she dug through desk drawers, hoping Lissa kept the same kind of notebook Jane did at home, listing user names and passwords. She was about to give up when she caught a glimpse of something behind the monitor. It was a fat little green address book. Jane flipped it open.

Apprehension became triumph and then guilt. Yes, there it was—the keys for her to intrude unforgivably on her sister’s life.

Her sister, who was in a coma. Her sister who had somehow lost her daughter.

And...she might find they did have substantial savings, enough to draw on for a few months and give themselves the time for Drew to find a job he really wanted. She’d be able to blow Clay’s nebulous theory out of the water, which would give her great pleasure.

Lissa and Drew would never know what she’d done.

Jane typed in the password.

A minute later, she sat with her heart pounding, thinking,
Where on earth did Lissa get all that money?

CHAPTER NINE

J
ANE
TENSED
AT
the sound of the key in the lock, then the front door opening and closing. She’d been waiting for Drew. Since he’d spent all afternoon and evening at the hospital, she had guessed he wouldn’t try to stay all night, too.

It had taken her a long time to decide what to do. Her first instinct was to call Clay—but if she didn’t talk to Drew first, give
him
a chance to be honest with the police, she would be forever alienating herself from Drew and Lissa, no matter what else happened.

So she’d been sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and pretending to read, for close to two hours now. The tea, she suspected, was stone-cold.

“You’re still up.” Drew appeared in the kitchen doorway. Maybe it was the artificial lighting, but his face seemed to have a gray cast. Light glinted off the lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses, obscuring his eyes and giving her a chill.

What if he knew all about the mysterious deposits? Clay would say she was being naive to assume this
nice
man was innocent of wrongdoing.

She managed a smile of sorts. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

“Can it wait until morning?” He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. The sight of them, bloodshot and puffy, reassured her. “I’m beat.”

“No,” she said. “This is...important.”

It had occurred to her that he might ask her to leave the house after he heard what she had to say. She wouldn’t altogether blame him.

Renewed panic rose in her. What if he did? If she was never again allowed to see Alexis and Bree—? But the thought slammed to a halt. She’d done this
for
Bree.

“Would you like a cup of tea? Or coffee?”

Drew shook his head as he pulled out a chair across from Jane. “I must have had ten cups of coffee today.” After hooking his glasses back in place, he gazed at her in puzzlement. “What’s up? Did something go on with Alexis?” His expression changed. “God! Did that sergeant call you?”

“Nothing like that,” she said hastily. Although that wasn’t entirely honest, since she had invaded Drew and Lissa’s privacy at Clay’s suggestion. “And Alexis is fine. She watched
The Little Mermaid
and went to bed without complaint. I think she’s worn out from her day.”

He nodded.

“Clay—Sergeant Renner—has talked to me about the investigation. I knew him before, you know. Just recently we were involved in an operation together.”

Drew’s expression grew warier.

“He tells me you’ve been evasive about your finances.”

His muscles bunched and the hand she could see balled into a fist. “It’s none of his goddamn business!”

Jane’s throat tightened, but there was no going back. “I think you’re wrong. What’s more, I think
you
know it.”

He stared at her.

“I went online tonight. I found your passwords and looked at your bank records.” She absolutely could not tell what he was thinking. “Drew, there’s a reason you don’t want to tell Sergeant Renner anything.”

“Lissa does all our banking and bill paying.” There was something like fear in his eyes. “You know that.”

“And you haven’t wondered at all how she’s kept paying the bills with you out of work.”

“I get unemployment.” When she didn’t say anything, he made a guttural sound and bent his head. “Yeah, I wondered. She kept saying we were fine. Once she said—” He breathed deeply for a minute. “She said, wasn’t it lucky
one
of us could actually earn the money we needed.”

“What did you think she meant by that?” Jane asked, almost gently.

He shook his head. “I thought it was a dig, that’s all.”

“Did you?”

Now his brown eyes held open anguish. “She was smug. Like—” His Adam’s apple worked. “I don’t know. She was up to something.”

“Like what?” Did he share her fear that Lissa was embezzling from Stillwell Trucking? How else could she be coming up with that kind of money? The thought horrified Jane.
My sister, the crook.

The worse part was—Jane could actually see it, if Lissa thought for some reason she was entitled.

Drew only shook his head. Hard.

After that, no matter what she said, he wouldn’t answer. If it wasn’t embezzling he feared, she began to wonder, what could it be? Did he imagine Lissa had become a high-class hooker? Was she out enough in the evening that it was possible?

“Drew,” Jane said at last, “you have to tell Sergeant Renner. Whatever Lissa has been up to may have something to do with Bree’s disappearance.” She hesitated. “I know you love Lissa.”

“I’m not so sure I do anymore,” he said in a stifled voice.

Jane felt a lurch underneath her breastbone. Did that mean he
was
looking at her with different eyes? And...if the marriage failed, what would that do to the girls?

Or to Alexis, if they were too late to save Bree?

No!
She couldn’t let herself think anything like that.

Drew’s eyes met hers. “If I don’t tell him, you will. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

She wanted to say “no, this is your decision,” but it would have been a lie. “Yes.”

He nodded. “Should I wait until morning?”

Her gaze found the clock on the microwave. “It’s only nine-thirty.” Seeing his instinctive resistance, she said, “Bree has been gone for over three days now, Drew. That’s...a really long time.”

A shudder grabbed him. She wasn’t sure it wasn’t a dry sob. “All right,” he said dully. “Will you sit in?”

“If it’s okay with Clay.”

“Thank you.” He fumbled at his waist and came up with his phone. When she told him the number, he dialed.

* * *

I
T
WAS
J
ANE
who let Clay in, her expression somber. The living room beyond her was dark, light coming from the kitchen and creating a nimbus around her hair, loose for once and tumbling over her shoulders. The brother-in-law was nowhere in sight.

“He didn’t decide to talk to me on his own, did he?” Clay asked, keeping his voice low, paying attention to the shadows in her eyes. He sure as hell didn’t want her to guess how indecently triumphant he felt because she had made the choice he’d known she would. The unsettling thing was, he wasn’t thinking she’d chosen him over her sister and brother-in-law. He knew better, and didn’t even mind. What she’d done was proof she was the clearheaded, dedicated cop he’d believed her to be.

Exactly what he
hadn’t
wanted her to be, back last fall when they dated.

Clay didn’t like being confused.

“He...didn’t argue,” Jane said quietly.

“Okay.” Watching while she closed and locked the front door, he thought of the saying about the barn door. There wasn’t much left to protect in this house.

No—not true. Drew Wilson had another daughter.

“Alexis asleep?” he asked.

“Yes. Pray she stays that way.”

Jane had changed clothes since he’d seen her that morning, making him wonder if this was what she slept in. The pants were a loose, thin cotton knit, nothing meant to be sexy but nicely outlining the firm globes of her ass as she walked away from him. Clay stumbled over the thought. Would it offend her? Was
ass
derogatory? Hell. Did he want to get involved with a woman who had him tangled up over a choice of words? It wasn’t as if he could help noticing her ass. Butt. Whatever. All he knew was that his hands tingled with the desire to get a good handful.

When she faced him, the baggy T-shirt she wore had clung to her more-than-generous breasts, as well. He wanted a handful of those, too. And a mouthful.

And this was
not
what he should be thinking about, considering he might finally be getting a break in this investigation. All he’d had to do was see Jane’s face to know Drew wasn’t about to show him monthly statements proving that his wife had scrimped so skillfully, she’d somehow managed to pay the bills with their vastly reduced income.

Drew sat at the table in the kitchen, shoulders slumped and head hanging. His hair poked out every which direction, as if he hadn’t combed it in recent memory. His chin was at least two days from a shave, too. At the sound of their footsteps, he lifted his head slowly, the effort seeming huge.

“Thank you for calling me,” Clay said.

Jane pulled up a chair and he did the same. A small pile of printed pages sat beside Drew’s hand. Clay recognized the familiar format of a bank statement on the top page.

“I guess I didn’t want to know,” Drew said heavily. He pushed the papers across the table. “If I said anything, suggested I take a shit job as a fill-in, Lissa kept telling me not to worry, that she was handling it.”

It.
A hell of a vague word, Clay couldn’t help thinking. “What was she handling?” he asked.

Bleary, bewildered brown eyes met his. “Bringing in plenty of money.”

“How?”

He shook his head slowly and kept shaking it, as if he couldn’t stop. “I don’t know.”

Jane moved. Only a little, but Clay looked at her.

Drew seemed sunk in apathy. After a quick glance at him, Jane said, “You know how these days, with online banking, you can open photocopies of the checks you deposited or wrote?” She waited for Clay’s nod.

He did know, but from investigative work. Personally, he paid his bills the old-fashioned way and kept a checkbook the old-fashioned way, too. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of having his financial information out there for anyone to hack into. Jane, he thought, would probably consider him a dinosaur.

“The extra money all came from personal checks.” She didn’t like this any better than her brother-in-law did, but her eyes met Clay’s. He hated seeing the hint of shame in them, as though she was responsible for her sister’s failings because she’d raised her. “All written by James Stillwell.”

Well, well. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. “I don’t suppose they could have been forged,” he said thoughtfully.

“I don’t see how.” Jane was trying to hide how she felt about this, but emotions leaked through nonetheless. He knew she hadn’t wanted to betray her sister—but she was the one who felt betrayed now, by the little sister she’d mothered. “Over the past three months, there have been five sizable checks. Not consecutive numbers. There’s something wrong if he hasn’t missed the checks or the money. Finding out where the money went wouldn’t have been hard either, given that Stillwell uses the same bank Drew and Lissa do.”

Clay bent his head and studied the statements she’d printed off, slowly flipping through, concentrating on deposits. Damn, that was one hell of a supplemental income. Melissa Wilson had had good reason to insist she was “handling it.”

“Funny Mr. Stillwell never mentioned how generous he was being to his bookkeeper.” He regretted the words the minute he said them, even before he saw the way Drew squeezed his eyes shut. Clay had a bad feeling Drew thought his wife was earning the extra bucks on her back. And he supposed it was possible. Lissa was a looker, no question, and Stillwell a sleaze enough to think it was fine and dandy to pay for sex, taking advantage of a young mother’s desperation.

But Clay didn’t believe it. The picture he was getting of Melissa Wilson didn’t fit the description of a desperate young mother, for starters. He was beginning to wonder if she wasn’t essentially amoral. Jane didn’t want to think that, and he understood why. The husband didn’t want to believe it, either, but he knew enough to be getting the idea that he wished he was married to the other sister.

Clay’s mouth tightened.
Sorry, buddy. Not happening.

“Mr. Wilson,” he said, rising to his feet, “I appreciate you coming forward with this information. I realize this must feel like an invasion of your privacy. It has to have been difficult for you, on top of everything else you’re going through.”

Drew stared at him so blindly, Clay wondered what—or who—he was really seeing. After a too-long moment, he nodded.

“I assume I can take these statements with me? I can assure you any information that doesn’t pertain to the investigation will be kept confidential.”

After another distinct pause, Drew nodded.

Clay bent his head politely. “Good night, then.”

Jane got up, her worried gaze on her brother-in-law. “I’ll see you out.”

Neither of them said anything until she had released the dead bolt and opened the door.

As he stepped out, she said, “You’ll talk to Stillwell tomorrow?”

“First thing.” Seeing her expression, he said, “And yes, I’ll let you know what I learn. Although I’m betting he lies through his teeth.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“I don’t, either.” Unable to resist temptation, he slid his hand under the heavy fall of her hair to gently squeeze her nape. “I may be barking up the wrong tree.”

She nodded, then shook her head in contradiction. “At least we know your instincts were right.”

“I’d say I wished they hadn’t been, except—”

Her distress took a chunk out of his heart muscle. “For Bree,” she said, so softly he saw her lips shape the words more than heard them.

“Yeah. Damn. Come here.”

She came.

Believing it to be what she needed, all he did was hold her. He laid his cheek against the top of her head, savoring the springy feel of her curls, the pillow of her breasts against him, but most of all the trust it took for her to lean on him like this. Trust he knew he hadn’t yet earned.

Finally she rubbed her cheek on his shirt, making him wonder if she was drying tears on him, then straightened, her eyes shadowed and her smile wry.

“I wonder if Drew will ever forgive me.”

Clay stiffened. The whole time she’d been resting in his arms, had she been thinking about her brother-in-law? “If we find his daughter, does it matter?”

Jane hesitated long enough to bother him. “No,” she said softly, at last. “Of course not.”

Pity twisted inside him, replacing the sting he’d felt. “I’m sorry, Jane. This sucks.”

“It does,” she said on a sigh. She tried another smile, not much better. “Good night, Clay.”