“Housekeeping.” The small voice along with a knock on the door caused Dawson to shoot straight up to standing.
The sun was already up and he realized he’d fallen asleep. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened when he’d intended to stay awake. He missed the feel of Summer’s warm body the minute he stood up.
A cursory look said he hadn’t peeled his shirt off in the middle of the night and his jeans were still snapped. He was decent enough to face the person coming into their room. He cursed himself for not putting the Do Not Disturb sign on the door handle.
He moved to the doorway, trying not to wake Summer as he glanced at the clock. Seven a.m.
“Sorry,” he said to the short, middle-aged woman standing at the door. She couldn’t be much taller than five feet. “My wife is still asleep. Do you mind coming back in about an hour?”
“No problem, sir.” The round woman with the graying hair and kind eyes waved as she took a backward step in the opened door. “I’ll come back.”
“Thank you.” Dawson followed her to the door and put the sign out. When he returned, Summer was sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Seeing that honey-wheat hair spill down the pillow he’d been sleeping on moments ago didn’t do good things to his heart this early. He made a beeline for the coffee machine and raked his hand through his hair.
As the coffee brewed in his cup, he made a quick pit stop to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. Splashing cold water on his face helped shake him out of the fog that had him going down a path of real feelings for Summer.
She was in trouble and he was helping her out. That was all. She needed answers to what happened to her sister. That was all. He was going to nail the bastard who killed Autumn and then walk away from the Grayson family. That was all.
Too bad his mantra wasn’t working. There were so many cracks in the casing around his heart there was no threat he’d use it instead of his Kevlar vest for protection.
As he exited the bathroom, Summer stood on the other side of the door. She squeezed past him as soon as he opened it.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” The door closed and he heard the water running as he moved into the next room. He didn’t need to stick around the door and think about the fact she was naked underneath that robe any more than he needed the image of her waking up next to him etched in his brain.
Because it felt more right than anything had in longer than he cared to remember.
A couple of sips of fresh brew should shake his brain out of the fog and keep it on track. He brought both cups over to the coffee table and retrieved his cell phone. He called the station and identified himself. He was immediately transferred to a supervisor, which he’d expected.
“This is Sergeant Wexler. How may I be of assistance?” Wexler had one of those voices that made him sound like he’d been on the job longer than he cared to and had seen just about everything. He was the two Cs: curt and courteous.
“My name is Marshal O’Connor and I’m calling to check on a suspect by the name of Jesse Lynch.”
“Right.” There was an ominous quality to Wexler’s tone. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but Lynch hung himself last night.”
This news was the first indication this case was bigger than Dawson realized. He’d been thinking the perp was someone small-time who’d dated Cheryl and then Autumn. He got a taste of what it was like to kill with Cheryl. It had possibly even been an accident or an argument that had gone too far. By the time he got to Autumn, he’d developed a taste for it. The guy was someone who had access to a violin string, an unlikely murder weapon. A musician or music teacher? It also made a statement because strangulation was a very personal method for murder.
“I’m sorry to hear the news.” Dawson had no doubt in his mind that Jesse Lynch was not the type to hang himself in his cell, especially considering they’d caught him before he’d done anything to the young coed. The case against him wouldn’t stick if he had a decent lawyer.
Summer was a different story altogether. But then all he’d done was chase her. He hadn’t actually caught her. All the evidence against him was hearsay.
“It’s a shame,” Wexler said in a tsk-tsk tone. “Young people today have a lot of emotional problems. A university kid was sitting on the side of the road the other day with a flat tire. He was bawling and pacing. I calmed him down and told him I’d help him. I was tired. On my way home from a long day but if it was my kid, I’d want someone to stop. So, I’m working on the tire and he stops crying but instead of jumping in to help, do you know what he does?”
Wexler paused.
“Can’t say that I do,” Dawson supplied.
“He gets on his cell and starts snap-ticking a friend...or whatever that social media site is. The one where the kids send messages to their friends instead of calling.”
Dawson wished Wexler would get to the point.
“I had to tell him, no-no. Get the hell off that thing and get over here. You’re going to learn how to change a tire.” He finished his sentence in ta-da fashion.
“Next time he’ll know how to do it himself.” Dawson had no idea how to respond or how this story was linked to Jesse Lynch’s hanging.
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. I can do it for him and he’ll never learn or I can tell him to put the damn phone away and pay attention. These kids are lazy and the minute anything goes wrong, they fall apart.” Wexler might believe that about Jesse Lynch but Dawson didn’t.
Based on what he knew so far, Lynch was street-smart. He got by working the streets and taking what he wanted. He was from the wrong side of the tracks though. Not a kid who got busted for a dime bag of weed and thought his parents would never speak to him again.
This kid knew how to survive.
“Was he alone in his cell all night?” Dawson asked.
“According to the night watch, he was.”
Dawson didn’t like the sound of that. It could mean the killer was someone on the inside or had connections. The violin string bothered him, though.
“Thank you for letting me know about Lynch. That’s unfortunate,” Dawson said.
“Such a waste,” Wexler said.
“Can you do me a favor?” Dawson asked.
“Sure, anything.”
“Transfer me to Detective Libby.” The quiet on the line sent another warning flare.
“She isn’t around.”
Dawson wasn’t so sure what that meant but it sounded like a sore subject.
“When will she be back?” he asked.
“She’s not with the department anymore,” Wexler supplied.
“What happened?” Dawson asked.
“She left the department about two years ago.”
“Do you have a forwarding address?”
“I can transfer you to personnel,” Wexler offered.
Now Dawson needed to decide if the sergeant was involved or just complacent. His instincts said the latter was true.
“I’ll call back another time.” Dawson wanted to give the impression he didn’t care all that much, so he added, “It’s not that important.”
Wexler seemed satisfied with that answer. “You take care.”
“Will do.” He ended the call. When he glanced up, he saw Summer studying him.
“What happened to Jesse Lynch?” Her forehead was creased with concern that their first lead had just dried up.
“He was murdered in his cell last night, but the department is calling it a suicide.”
Stunned, Summer took a couple of steps backward until she sat in a chair at the small table. She seemed to pick up on the implication.
“I checked all the names of the politicians in Austin and didn’t find a single Charles, Charlie, Charley or Matthew and no relation to the last name of Shank.” Dawson reviewed his findings or lack thereof with her.
“So, Lynch is gone.” She paused like she needed a minute for the news to sink in. Like saying it out loud made it that much more real and scary. “What about the detective on the case?”
“She quit the department six months after Cheryl’s murder.” The timing of her resignation was suspect as hell. The whole situation reeked of foul play.
“And this is the same department that is going to investigate my sister’s murder?” Summer brought her hand up to her face.
“They gave Cheryl’s case to a young detective. I’m guessing they didn’t expect her to do a very good job being so green,” he stated.
“Except that she stayed with it. We thought she was pulled off the case and it was marked cold, when it turns out she left the department. What would make her do that?”
“I’ll ask Colton to look into it and see if he can dig up some information. He has a trusted contact at Austin PD and that might be our best route. I can call human resources but they won’t be able to give out personal information about the detective.” Her exit must have been the reason the investigation stalled.
“What would make her up and leave like that?”
“Bribery. Threats. Your guess is as good as mine. If we can figure out where she landed after leaving and how she’s living now, we’ll have a better idea of the reason.”
And just who the department was trying to protect.
THIS NEWS WAS BIG. It screamed cover-up. And if the same person killed Autumn, there’d be no justice for her. If the person was so big or connected that he could make a detective leave her job and a witness be killed in jail and marked as a suicide, how could they bring him down? Who would listen?
“I got away,” she said under her breath. “He must’ve had eyes on the jail in case one of his minions got picked up.”
“Or Lynch used his one phone call to the wrong person.”
“Why not just kill him before?” she asked.
“He wasn’t done with the job, for one. Plus, the body count was racking up.”
“There were two guys chasing me.” She wondered what had happened to the second one.
“It’s possible he’s still out there. Once word gets out in their circles that Lynch is dead, the others will likely go underground for a few months. Maybe even hop over the border.” He referred to Mexico. “There are plenty of little towns to get lost in.”
She’d read about Americans living in both countries. It was easy to move back and forth with US citizenship. She’d also read about young people going over to party and never coming back. Many border towns were dangerous. But then, Scrappy wasn’t exactly a college coed and he wasn’t exactly innocent.
“I doubt Sean Menendez has the kind of connections necessary to pull off a jail murder.” Dawson was right about that.
“Agreed.” She didn’t care how creepy the maintenance man was, he’d be hard-pressed to find the resources it took to kill someone while in a jail cell. “Do you think we can stop by and talk to him or the property manager anyway? Maybe I can get some information about my sister from the staff.”
“It doesn’t hurt to stop by for an interview. I also need to let my brother know what’s going on.” Dawson paused and stared at his phone. “No one at Austin P.D. knew your sister had been murdered.”
“The coroner must be honest,” she observed.
“I’ve known him a long time. He’s always been one of the good guys.”
“If you ever needed proof the coroner reported the death but it was covered up by Austin P.D, I think you just got it.” She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. The burn felt good on her throat. “You said Yarnell has been living in hell ever since Cheryl’s murder. I can’t imagine what he must’ve gone through with a department bent on hanging a crime on him.”
“The guy was in pain learning about his ex. She’d tried to call him and his new girlfriend picked up. She said a few choice words to Cheryl and that was it. She never tried to contact him again and then she shows up dead.” Dawson studied his cell phone screen. It started going off in his hand like crazy.
He immediately stood up and started pacing. A feeling deep in the pit of her stomach caused her to be nauseous because the look on his face said it was bad news—news about his beloved family.
“Sorry, I need to—”
“Don’t apologize, Dawson. Your family is just as important as mine.”
He stopped and looked at her, a bit shell-shocked. And then he nodded, smiled and made a call.
Summer was confused by his look of surprise. His family was important to him, and to her. He was becoming important to her. There was something about living in fear of her life for the past few weeks that made the grand scheme of things crystal clear. Family came first.
And maybe clarity had to do with the fact that she’d lost hers. Summer had always believed in family. She’d just never really had more than her sister.
She couldn’t help but overhear Dawson’s conversation despite the fact he’d gone into the bedroom for privacy. There was news about his father’s case. An address came up for a possible suspect.
Dawson ended the call before walking into the room, a look of despair darkened his eyes.
“I overheard bits and pieces of your conversation. I’m sorry—”
He shook his head before raking a finger through his thick curls. A couple laps around the room later, and he seemed to calm down enough to tell her what was going on.
“Do you need to go investigate?” She didn’t expect Dawson to stay with her under the circumstances.
“One extra person would just be in the way. My brothers are all over it and I’m needed here.” The look on his face said he wanted to be with his siblings.
“You don’t have to do this, Dawson. Your family needs you and I wouldn’t want you to have any regrets about—”
He wheeled around on her so fast, she stopped midsentence.
“Last time I checked, you were family, too.” His voice was sharp, and his eyes shot daggers. “But if you don’t want me here then say the word.”
Her entire body stiffened as she geared up for a fight. Before she could open her mouth to argue Dawson shot her a look of apology. He put a hand up and took another couple of laps.
Summer drew in a few breaths meant to calm her but all she ended up doing was breathing in more of his spicy and clean scent. She tried to form words but none came.
All she wanted was to stand up and put her hand on his chest to stop him and get him to breathe. So, that’s exactly what she did. Summer stood up and then stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. Hand to his chest, she locked gazes with him.
He started to speak and clamped down, compressing his lips instead.
She could feel the moment the air changed from anger and frustration to awareness. Awareness of their hearts pounding against their rib cages. Awareness of the chemistry that had been sizzling between them since the moment they’d met. Awareness of their raspy breathing.
Call her wrong, but one look in his eyes made her think he wanted to reach out to her as much as she needed to feel him. She ran her fingers along the muscled ridges of his chest. There was only a thin layer of cotton preventing her from skin-to-skin contact.
Dawson brought his hands up to cup her face. He looked at her with a longing so deep it robbed her breath.
The need to feel his lips move against hers was a physical ache. She tilted her face toward his and he brought his lips down on hers.
Summer brought her hands up to his shoulders to brace herself, digging her nails in when he deepened the kiss. His hands dropped and his arms looped around her waist, bringing her body flush with his. She could kiss this man all day. She wanted to kiss this man all day.
She couldn’t.
Reality lurked and they’d come to their senses in a minute. But for right then, Summer didn’t care about his past or hers. Nothing mattered except this moment happening between them, a moment they both wanted so badly they could hardly breathe.
She felt that kiss from her crown to her toes and when his tongue dipped inside her mouth, heat spread through her. She ignored the fact he was the best kisser in her life and the other obvious fact that he’d be mind-numbingly amazing in bed.
The other facts, she couldn’t ignore so easily.
They didn’t have a lot of time to waste. Kissing him had been a luxury. And she needed to pull back while she still could.
Easier said than done.
With a deep breath, she managed to break away from those full lips of his—lips too soft for a face of such hard angles.
One look in his eyes said they were playing with fire.