THE NEXT WEEK PASSED in a blur.
The state crime lab had processed the evidence from the cases, but unfortunately no one had the urge to say By jove, I think we’ve got it!
Come to think of it, Andrea couldn’t think of many places where that would be an appropriate phrase to use. Maybe the Theatre Royal in London.
The task force met every night to discuss case developments, strategies and rumors. Kirk, the pool guy, was eliminated officially, since he had a rock-solid alibi for the days surrounding the theft at the church—he’d been in Myrtle Beach for a surfing competition. After winning, he’d used his celebration time to accept free drinks from various fans, who were only too happy to supply details of the bar and hotel room crawl.
Personally, Andrea could have lived without the details, especially since she didn’t find anything to surpass her recent tendency to act out her sexual fantasies with Tyler.
Aqua and Dwayne followed up on the financial status and whereabouts of Simon Iverson, Mrs. Jackson’s nephew, plus Cal Wells and Roger Bampton. Iverson was vaguely “at home alone” on each of the nights. Did he not have a social life, or was there more to see with him? He was doing okay financially, but they’d uncovered an extravagant purchase of a sixty-eight-foot yacht, which had seriously cut into his savings.
Interestingly, neither Wells nor Bampton had substantiated alibis for any of the nights. Could Wells have stolen his own trophy to divert suspicion away from himself? Had Roger Bampton taken the loss of the volleyball championship so hard he’d stolen the trophy? And why would either man take the tea set or the chalice? They were both very well-off financially.
Lester Cradock did have a solid alibi for at least two of the thefts—he’d been leading gun-control rallies at the state capitol in Columbia.
After the town hall meeting, the newspaper had again printed a story designed to ignite the island to riot status. While no one took things that seriously, Jerry Mescle’s exaggerated writing had driven people to pick up the phone and call the sheriff’s office, delaying progress in the already-bogged-down investigation.
Still, there were quite a few supporters who’d attended Tyler’s campaign rally last night. At Andrea’s suggestion, and given the vitriolic atmosphere, she’d suggested food-based giveaways. So the free pie, courtesy of Gilda, plus the free fried chicken, courtesy of Mabel, and the coffee bar/real bar had both been hits—particularly since they’d served the statewide vodka-infused phenomenon known as Firefly Sweet Tea.
It tasted like Granny’s traditionally iced and sugared concoction until the consumers found their heads spinning in a way their elders probably never intended. But it made for a great party.
The stories of the thefts were the talk of the island with a single exception. Everyone was twittering to report a previously impossible turn of events—Misty and Dwayne were dating.
They’d shown up Friday night at Coconut Joe’s without Jack, sharing virgin piña coladas and a shrimp dip appetizer, then enjoying Joe’s famous fried flounder. Saturday night they’d returned with Jack, and following dinner the trio had walked into the sunset on the beach below.
Andrea doubted Jerry was planning a story about romantic happy endings.
“Andrea?”
Turning from the balcony, she walked into her bedroom. A familiar sight greeted her—bare-chested and dark hair rumpled, Tyler was propped on one elbow and looking at her with a sleepy, confused expression.
“Did the phone ring?” he asked.
“No.” Amazed as always to find him more and more attractive, she sat on the bed beside him. “I just woke up early. I was thinking about the case.”
After linking their fingers, he flopped back onto the pillows. “Isn’t it Saturday?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m not on duty?”
“No.”
Tugging her on top of him, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled her beneath him in the space of a heartbeat. “Then there are much more interesting things to do than think.”
He parted her robe and skimmed his lips across the bare skin he exposed. As his lips closed over her nipple, she arched her back and pressed her hands against his shoulders.
Her pulse blasted off as desire surged through her.
He could do that with a look or a word. His touch was almost too much.
She had no idea how she’d find level ground again. Everything was centered on him, the pleasure he brought, the hope and hunger that blossomed in her chest.
With lots of practice, he rolled on a condom, never stopping in the laving kisses at her breast. He was an amazing multitasker, she decided, her breathing reduced to pants.
Her climax rushed on, somehow still unexpected with its intensity. As he followed her, his face buried in her hair, she held on and couldn’t help but wonder how important he’d become, how much of her daily life was wrapped around and inside him.
How had she let that happen?
Over the last week he’d practically moved in. They’d live in a bubble of pleasure, even as chaos swirled around them. Her brother’s future was still in question; she was due to leave the country on an extended assignment in four days; a thief was on the loose and the all-important election would be decided on Tuesday.
“Are you still with me?” Tyler asked, his voice raw and tender.
Lying alongside him, she pressed her lips to his chest. “I’m here.”
But how had she gotten here? What was she doing with him? Where were they going?
“Are you nervous about the election?” she asked, pushing her own troubled thoughts aside.
“A little.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll win. And if something really strange happens, any town would be lucky to have you.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m home for good.”
“Not tempted to fly off and see more of the world?”
“Nope.” Smoothing her hair off her face, he kissed the tip of her nose. “I can’t go anywhere. I’d have to leave you.”
Her pulse spiked. “You can’t choose where you live based on me.”
“Sure I can. You’re the most important person in my life.”
Andrea was struck completely silent. Her heart pounded with excitement. Or maybe it was disbelief.
She focused on the sincere expression in his bright blue eyes. No, it was fear slamming through her. Definitely fear.
“But you’re—” She stopped, shook her head and tried again. “We’re—”
“Amazing together?” He cupped her face, kissing her softly. “Extremely compatible in bed? We trust and support each other. We like the same foods and TV shows.”
“We’re completely wrong for each other,” she finished in a blurted rush.
“Well, then that’s a real problem, seeing as I’m in love with you.”
She didn’t climb off the bed, she leaped. He loved her? Really? He definitely loved her.
No way.
Confused and naked, she grabbed the first thing her hand fumbled for, which turned out to be his T-shirt. “You can’t be,” she said, her pulse in a full panic as she pulled on the shirt, wincing as the scent of his cologne wafted to her nose.
“’Fraid I am,” he said, sitting up to rest on the pillows behind his back as if settling in for a long discussion.
“But you’re a fantasy,” she practically shouted in accusation. “You’re not real. This isn’t real.”
Anger jumped into his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you, baby, but I’m real, and so are my feelings.”
“But you’re supposed to be with some blonde, big-boobed cheerleader.”
Even as she said the words, they sounded stupid. And yet, that was the vision she’d always had for his future. The realistic one, not the fantasy where the two of them rode off into the beach-shadowed sunset on his motorcycle, a stallion or in a Corvette, depending on which scenario she favored in the moment.
“You’re blonde,” he said tightly. “I like your boobs just fine, and if you want to cheer, I’ll be happy to buy you some pom-poms and a short skirt.”
She turned away. “They wouldn’t fit me.”
Behind her, he was silent for a long while. “And I don’t either, huh?”
Looking back over her shoulder, she met his gaze and tried to make him—and her susceptible heart—understand. “I’m leaving in a few days. This was supposed to be uncomplicated fun.”
He stared at her hard. “I was supposed to satisfy you, then go on my merry way.”
Exactly. But she couldn’t say so. Was that because she didn’t want to hurt him, or because she didn’t even believe her own delusions anymore?
“I’m not really like this,” she felt obligated to explain. “I don’t indulge in fantasies or take risks. I work in insurance.”
“No kidding? Sex in the squad car, in the conference room?”
“Those were…isolated incidents. I’ve never done anything like that with a man before.”
“I’m glad I was such an inspiration, but those isolated incidents didn’t seem like big risks to me. Maybe because I love you and hoped you’d eventually feel the same way.”
She closed her eyes briefly. She couldn’t care so much about him. What if he got tired of her? If? Hell, when.
Rising, he slid on a pair of jeans laying beside the bed. His motions were stiff, and, when he looked at her, his eyes remote. “You live in the past, Andrea. You work there, you dwell there. I’ve apologized for the boy I was—and remember I was a boy—in every way I can think of. I trusted you with secrets, fears and worries I’ve never shared with anyone. If you can’t believe in me now, then I guess all we’ve had was some great fantasy sex.”
He started toward the door. “But then that’s all you were after all along, right?”
She didn’t know what she really wanted. Nothing had gone the way she’d planned, and she still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “Tyler, I—”
“Andy!”
Finn.
“Be right there!” Andrea shouted back as she yanked off Tyler’s shirt. Tossing it at him, she darted into her closet for something of her own to wear.
By the time she returned to the bedroom, she wore a blousy, lace top and red Capri jeans. Tyler had taken the abrupt hint and put on his shirt, though he didn’t meet her gaze as they walked downstairs.
Was she crazy or smart?
How could they expect to build a real relationship on the stranger fantasy she’d initiated? In her teenage mind, he’d meant everything. Her entire world had been him. She couldn’t go back there.
“What’s up?” Tyler asked her brother with forced casualness when they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“I have some news about the silver case.” Finn’s gaze flicked to Andrea’s. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Tyler looked at her over his shoulder. “It was nothing.”
The love he’d proclaimed earlier wasn’t anywhere evident in his eyes. She wasn’t surprised, but her heart broke, just a little more wide open than it had before, and she wondered if she hadn’t completely ruined everything this time.
TYLER MADE COFFEE WHILE Andrea and Finn settled in at the kitchen table.
Resolutely, he blocked the conversation Finn had walked into.
There was no way the woman he loved had told him he meant nothing to her. She hadn’t rejected him; she hadn’t looked at him with shock and dread.
He’d trusted her with everything, and she hadn’t just backed up, she’d run away.
Alongside the cookie sheets, he found a tray that he used to carry the mugs of coffee to the table. A chill infused the fall air, but he didn’t need any more clothes. His anger and disappointment kept him warm.
Careful not to look at Andrea, even though she was mere inches away, he lifted his steaming mug and stared at Finn. “What did you find out?”
Finn’s gaze darted between Tyler and his sister. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Fine,” Tyler said.
“Fine,” Andrea echoed at the same time.
“O-kay…” Finn picked up his coffee mug and drank. With a grimace, he set down the cup again. “Dude, you got a thing against sugar?”
Anticipating this reaction, Tyler pushed forward the sugar bowl and spoon he’d brought on the tray. “Go crazy.”
After dumping in at least five teaspoons, Finn pronounced his coffee perfect. “So, here’s the thing…” He shifted his gaze between Tyler and Andrea. “It may not even be important.”
“But you think it is,” Tyler said. Even only knowing Finn a couple of weeks, he’d learned the guy didn’t say much that wasn’t significant.
Finn nodded. “Yeah. A guy I work with told me he’d talked to that volleyball captain Roger Bampton about the church’s meal delivery schedule. He asked specifically about the Wells house.”
“How did this conversation come up?” Tyler asked casually, though the tips of his fingers tingled.
“I said to my friend how crazy this whole missing chalice thing is. You know, cops at the church.” He lifted his shoulders, then let them fall.
“Go on.”
“My friend said something like, yeah, something crazy happened to him, too. He had dudes comin’ up to him, offering to do his job.” As Finn paused, his gaze met Tyler’s. “Long as he took the fifty and didn’t say anything.”
The tingle turned into a full-fledged buzz.
“You’re saying Roger Bampton offered your friend fifty bucks to deliver a meal to Mrs. Wells in the weeks before the theft of the trophy?”
“Yep.”
“And asked him to keep this transaction secret?”
“Yep.”
Tyler set his coffee cup on the table. His mind raced through the possibilities as he tried to line up the facts and evidence with this new revelation.
“I can see Roger getting mad about the volleyball tournament and taking the trophy,” Andrea said, speaking for the first time since they’d sat down. “Well, sort of. I mean, taking the trophy still doesn’t make him a winner. But why would he take the tea set and chalice?”
“To throw off suspicion of the real crime,” Finn said as if that were obvious.
Tyler considered the idea, which they’d actually floated around the task force meetings—though the trophy had been seen as the diversionary tactic, not the real crime. “As a distraction it seems pretty over-the-top to take priceless treasures to cover up stealing a worthless trophy.”
“Or really smart,” Finn said, leaning forward. “You guys are knocking yourselves out looking for somebody who needs money or a theft ring after historical artifacts.” He managed a rueful smile. “Or an ex-con who can’t give up the old game. You’re not looking at dumpy ole Roger.”
Aqua had compared the volleyball tournament to the Yankees–Red Sox rivalry. Could this trophy really mean so much? Wasn’t that seriously delusional?
Then he remembered the shouting match at the station, the passion and fury on Roger’s reddened face as he’d accused Cal Wells of cheating. Could Finn’s scenario be the answer?
“I got a comparison,” Finn continued. “Once, the gang wanted to boost a rival gang member’s car. We didn’t want the car, we just wanted to get our hands on it and mess it up.”
“Finn!” Andrea shouted.
“Let him finish,” Tyler said to her, being careful not to look in her direction. With their relationship crashing, all he had to focus on was his job, so he might as well do it effectively.
“All in the past,” Finn said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Anyway, to boost the car, we had to create a distraction, so we took tire irons and busted the window of a fancy jewelry store. Alarms went screaming. Cops and employees running around in a panic. During the melee, on the next block over, we roll away in the car without a peep.”
“I really didn’t need to know all this,” Andrea said dryly.
Oddly enough, Tyler did. The cops could learn a thing or two from the bad guys. Well, former bad guys. Didn’t Andrea use ex-thieves as informants in her business?
“That’s pretty smart,” Tyler said, looking at Finn in a whole new light.
Finn ducked his head. “Yeah, but not in a good way, I guess.”
“Definitely in a good way,” Tyler said, rising. “I should get back to the station and work on this new development.”
Finn stood as well. “So I helped?”
Tyler clapped his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You did.”
“Helped?” Andrea said, standing beside them, a proud smile on her face. “You solved the case, Finn.”
“I don’t know about that,” Finn said.
“You’ve given us the break we’ve been looking for,” Tyler assured him. “In fact, you could help some more. It’s easy enough to guess how Roger stole the trophy, but we’ll need a lot more evidence to prove he stole the tea set and chalice. Why don’t we head to Mrs. Jackson’s house and talk to her?”
“Great idea.” Andrea headed toward the door.
Tyler stiffened. He needed to concentrate on the case. On anything besides her rejection. “I think Finn and I can handle this,” he said as he walked by her into the hallway.
Damn, he’d even fallen in love with the house in the last few weeks. The old wood and the new paint. The sound of crashing waves, the star-strewn view from her bedroom balcony.
“But I’m on the task force,” Andrea argued.
“It’s okay, isn’t it, Andy?” Finn asked, saving Tyler from coming up with a lame excuse to escape without her. “I’d kind of like to see this through. This cop stuff is kind of cool.”
Andrea’s gaze moved to Tyler, but he looked away. “Yeah, sure. I think you’ll be more help than me, anyway.”