Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(24)

His hand slid up to her breast, and the brush of his thumb over her nipple made her squirm closer.

“Come home with me.”

She didn’t answer, and he kissed her again. She melted into him. But then he pulled away, and she saw the intensity in his eyes.

“Brooke, come home with me.”

She jerked back, snapping out of the trance. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

He watched her, searching her face.

“I’m taking a break from men.”

Confusion came into his eyes. “Why?”

“It’s complicated.” She glanced around. God, what was she doing? One drink, and here she was throwing herself at him in the middle of the parking lot.

He stepped back, giving her space. She opened the car door and scooted around it, putting it between them so she wouldn’t lose her resolve and kiss him again.

His phone buzzed, but he ignored it. He watched her with a look of concern as she slid behind the wheel. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” She forced a smile. “I’ll call you tomorrow about the case.”

? ? ?

Sean watched her pull out of the lot, cursing himself. He shouldn’t have rushed her. He should have taken it one small step at a time, like he’d planned.

But one taste of her and his plan had gone up in flames. She was so hot, everything about her, and he couldn’t resist touching her. He always knew they’d have chemistry, but he’d never expected that. He hoped to hell he hadn’t screwed it up.

His phone buzzed again and he pulled it out. Callie.

“What?”

“Hey, hey. What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.” He took a deep breath. “Everything okay there?”

“Better than okay. I got a lead from Samantha Bonner’s phone dump.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I went back three months. She has a half dozen calls from her boss, and a bunch more from one of her coworkers at the coffee shop, Kaitlyn Spence. Then she’s got almost daily calls from Amy Doppler, her AA friend. But listen to this.”

“I’m listening.”

“She’s also got calls from a Jared Doppler. Three late-night calls on Monday of last week. And Jared, my friend, has a rap sheet. Five years ago he did six months in lockup.”

Sean’s pulse quickened. “For what?”

“Aggravated assault. You’ll never guess his weapon of choice.”

“A knife.”





CHAPTER 8


At noon the next day Sean pulled his pickup into a parking space beside Callie’s SUV. She got out and jumped into his passenger seat.

She looked him over. “You’re dressed up.” He was in the dark suit he always wore in court. “How was Samantha’s funeral?”

“Depressing.” Sean hated funerals, but sometimes they came with the job.

Callie handed over a file folder, and Sean opened it in his lap as he loosened his tie. The plan was to go over some background info before they approached the target at his workplace.

Sean skimmed the phone records, focusing on the three highlighted calls from Jared Doppler. “Interesting timing.”

“I thought so, too. Late enough to be a booty call.” Sean glanced up, and Callie’s expression turned slightly defensive. “Why else would he call her at one in the morning?”

“Drug buy?”

“Okay, good point.” Her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t think of that.”

Sean smiled and tucked his tie into his pocket.

“Why was the funeral depressing? Besides the obvious.”

“It was small. Who’s this number here?”

“The registrar’s office at her university. Mind if I have some coffee?”

“Sure.” Sean finished with the phone records and then flipped through to Jared’s rap sheet.

“Eww! It’s stone cold.”

He glanced up. “What’d you expect? I bought it at seven this morning.”

Sean had spent an hour at the doughnut shop, but no sign of the kid. Or Brooke. He’d been on the lookout for both of them, but had completely struck out.

Callie put the coffee back in the cup holder. “How small is ‘small’?”

“Eight people, including the priest.”

“Yikes.”

“Couple people from her job and an AA friend who sat with Amy. Plus her foster mom and a social worker.”

“Any suspects?”

“With the exception of her boss and the priest, it was all women.”

“What’s the story with the foster mom and the social worker?”

“I don’t know yet. After we finish here, I plan to find out.” Sean handed back the paperwork. “Okay, I’m good. You ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

They got out of the truck and approached the hardware store, which was part of a local chain. Not as big as Home Depot, but sizable enough to attract a decent crowd on a Saturday afternoon.

Sean looked at Callie, who was in her typical detective outfit—black slacks, plus a blazer to conceal her firearm. Her shiny gold detective’s shield was clipped at her hip.

“You take the lead,” Sean said. “If my instincts are right about this guy, you’re going to get under his skin.”