Kaleidoscope

  “And you have a heated pool.”

  “Em—”

  “With a wheel of pretty lights.”

  “Baby—”

  “You failed to tell me I should bring a bathing suit.”

  “You’re sleepin’ in my bed the first time without me. You do not get in that pool for the first time without me.”

  And another full-body spasm.

  “Jacob—”

  “I take it you’re in and you’re settled,” he remarked, explaining the call.

  “Buford has a droopy face and it’s cute,” I said as confirmation, looking down at his dog who again wagged his tail.

  “You’re in and settled,” he muttered, then, louder, “I gotta go.”

  “Okay, honey.”

  “Eat what you want. Got lots of DVDs. Whatever. Yeah?”

  “Okay.”

  “Sleep good.”

  “Okay, be safe.”

  “Right. Later, Emme.”

  “Later, Jacob.”

  We disconnected.

  I looked down at Buford.

  “Let’s check out Jacob’s bedroom,” I suggested.

  He got up from sitting like he knew what I was saying.

  We checked out Jacob’s bedroom.

  It. Was. Awesome.

  I stood in the middle of its awesomeness, bent slightly, scratching Buford’s head, staring at the (unmade but still fantastic) huge bed with its cream comforter cover with black piping, black sheets and cream shams (with black piping). This color scheme was used throughout the room, giving it not a small amount of seriously classy masculine appeal.

  My eyes fell on the kaleidoscope on his nightstand.

  He did keep it by the bed.

  I felt my lips tip up.

  Then I commented to Buford, “I think you’re good. No way you could hog all those covers.”

  Buford had no reply.

  Five hours later, I’d find out I was wrong.

  * * *

  Nineteen hours later…

  “You okay?”

  I burst out laughing.

  “Babe,” Jacob called through my laughter.

  I got control of it and when I did, I saw the piles of rolled insulation that now filled two of my upstairs rooms, one of which I was standing in the door of.

  “Just calling to confirm delivery,” I told him.

  “Good. Now go back to my house,” he ordered.

  “Jacob—”

  “No bathing suit.”

  “Ja—”

  “Gotta go.”

  I stopped trying to get out his name seeing as it seemed he was in the middle of something important and said, “Okay, honey. See you tomorrow.”

  “Text me when you get to my house,” he replied, then, “And yeah, babe. Tomorrow. But, way things are going, good chance I’ll be home tonight.”

  Tonight?

  But I’d be at his house tonight.

  With him there!

  Before I could begin a discussion about this, Jacob said, “Later, Emme.”

  I knew he was in the middle of something important (or guessed), so all I could do was say, “ ’Bye.”

  I disconnected and wandered to the stairs, looking forward to spending more time with Buford and lounging around Jacob’s big house where you could search for hours and find nothing that needed working on.

  I was also freaking out because Jacob would be in that house with me (maybe) and we’d be together for the first time as a different kind of us (except for his hurried fly-by at my office to give me his keys, which included him kissing my forehead again—which was very nice—but that was all it included) and I didn’t know if I was ready for that.

  I was. I was looking forward to it. Anxiously. Excitedly.

  I just also wasn’t. Mostly because I was thinking on it, panicked.

  I was walking down the stairs, thinking these thoughts, when I saw the police cruiser through my own not-so-panoramic but nonetheless fabulous etched windows that luckily had never been broken that flanked my huge front door.

  So I would not be going over to Jacob’s house imminently.

  No.

  But I had no idea that things were going to change dramatically in ways no one would expect.

  Even when they were watching a police cruiser pulling up their drive.

  Chapter Seven

  More

  Five hours later…

  “Deck,” Chace warned low, his hand in Deck’s chest, holding him back from Kenton Douglas.

  “Tell me you’re shitting me,” Deck demanded, his eyes locked to Douglas.

  “She was in the possession of physical evidence that linked Dane McFarland to a crew of thieves who have been working this county for six months, recruiting vulnerable high school students to do their dirty work,” Douglas replied. “That evidence had to be collected, as did her statement. Jesus, Decker, you told us about the ring yourself. And I took her statement with a deputy, and you’re right. She corroborated your report that she thought it was a gift he purchased and was visibly stunned by the news it wasn’t. It’s clear she has no knowledge of what’s going on. So clear, we didn’t even ask her to go to the station.”

  The news Emme was “visibly stunned” made Deck, already unhappy, seriously fucking unhappy.

  “You approached her without telling me,” Deck shot back. “And I told you when I told you about the ring that in any dealings with Emme, you don’t do shit without telling me.”

  “You’re not running this investigation, Decker. We can’t sit on evidence,” Douglas returned.

  “An hour after you visited her, I handed you enough to bring them all in without that fuckin’ ring,” Deck snarled.

  “She can’t keep stolen property,” Douglas retorted.

  “I didn’t say she’d keep it,” Deck gritted. “Fuck, she didn’t even want it when she thought it was a gift McFarland bought her. But I wanted to be the one to tell her her ex-boyfriend was involved in that mess.”

  “I’m thinking maybe you should have divulged how deep your link to her was before you signed the contract,” Douglas fired back, watching him closely.

  “That wasn’t pertinent to the investigation,” Deck replied.

  Douglas’s brows shot up and Deck knew why. That was bullshit and they both knew it.

  He just didn’t give a fuck.

  Deck continued, “I told you I wouldn’t blow your investigation. I also told you I’d clear her. I didn’t say smack about the investigation and I cleared her within twenty-four hours. You yourself questioned her and you know she’s an innocent in this whole gig or she’d be being booked like the rest of them are right now. You have not one material or circumstantial piece of evidence that ties her to that fucked-up shit. But she was mine to handle. I made that clear and you visited her at her goddamned house.”

  “You’re right. We don’t have any evidence and that’s why she’s not one of the five people arrested tonight,” Douglas returned. “But that ring is evidence and it needed to be procured, today, not whenever you got around to it.”

  Deck growled.

  Chace said, “Kent, give me a minute with Deck, will you?”

  Douglas looked to Chace then to Deck. He jerked up his chin and walked out of Shaughnessy’s office, leaving the two men alone.

  Chace dropped his hand and stepped away but held Deck’s eyes.

  “What the fuck is goin’on?” he asked low.

  “Emme’s mine,” Deck answered and watched Chace’s head jerk.

  “Yours?”

  “Mine,” Deck bit out.

  Light dawned so Chace started, “I thought you said—”

  Deck cut him off. “Things changed.”

  Chace’s brows went up. “In seventy-two hours?”

  Deck moved to the whiteboard, ripped off the black-and-white picture of Emme and threw it at Chace. It sliced through the air and landed on the floor, faceup.

  “That,” he pointed to the picture, “comes with all that’s Emme, a
nd all that’s Emme has fuckin’ been Emme for fuckin’ years. Had dinner with her twice. Talked to her on the phone a lot more than that. So, yeah, in seventy-two fuckin’ hours, and I wish I had seventy-one of them back.”

  “She’s not arrested, Deck,” Chace said carefully. “She’s cleared. She isn’t even a suspect. Douglas and his deputy talked to her less than an hour. You said she wasn’t tight with this guy and that she’s even breakin’ up with him. This is done for her. What’s the big fuckin’ deal?”

  “The big fuckin’ deal is, she’s supposed to be at my house and she was supposed to text me when she got there four and a half hours ago. She didn’t. I called. She picked up and then she hung up on me without even sayin’ hi. This happened five fuckin’ times. That’s the big fuckin’ deal.”

  “Oh shit,” Chace muttered, knowing what that meant.

  “Yeah. Douglas shared and she’s got ideas seein’ as me and McFarland are probably the only two who knew about that ring. She doesn’t know about my work, but she isn’t stupid. Even not knowing, she knows. I asked Max to go to her place to check she’s okay, she wasn’t home. No Bronco. Made calls. Got boys lookin’ everywhere, not hard to spot a bronze Bronco with a fuckin’ glittery butterfly hangin’ from the rearview. Hours. Nothing.”

  “You told me things changed, I could have finessed that for you,” Chace told him.

  “Sorry, man, I was too busy solving a case in three days you and a task force of your brethren couldn’t solve in six months. Should have kept you up to speed on who I decided I’m gonna take to my bed. I’ll do that next time.”

  “Don’t be a dick,” Chace clipped. “You know your relationship with someone involved with someone involved in an investigation is pertinent to that investigation. You also know it’s seriously pertinent to me partnerin’ with you on this investigation and if you’d shared, I could have fuckin’ finessed it.”

  Fuck.

  He was right.

  And that sucked.

  Deck said nothing.

  Chace studied his friend.

  Then he murmured, “Jesus, she’s it for you.”

  “Look at the picture, Chace,” he pointed to the photo on the floor. “All that’s been there fourteen years and I didn’t see it. Fucked around, pinin’ for fuckin’ Elsbeth and I didn’t see it. She kept it hidden from me. From everybody. Now, for some reason, she’s let it out. But what’s worse, she’s been a town over and I didn’t know it. I didn’t know she took down the veil. Part of that, I’ll add, is thanks to you not sharin’ that info. Now I’ve had it without havin’ it for seventy-two hours and she’s disappeared.”

  “You’ll find her.”

  “And what do you think I’m gonna find?” Deck asked. “You know her history. You knew her before. She tries it with Dane, finds out he’s fucked. She was willin’ to go there with me, not eager, freaked, but I got her there, and she thinks I played her. What am I gonna find, Chace?”

  “Just talk to her, man.”

  “This kinda shit can take her right back behind that veil she’s been hidin’ behind since that shit happened to her when she was twelve.”

  His friend’s eyes lit with understanding, Chace moved closer and his voice got lower. “Then find her and talk to her, man.”

  Deck held Chace’s eyes then it occurred to him Emme was out there pissed, maybe hurt, and he was wasting time. So he jerked up his chin.

  But he didn’t move to the door.

  He stated, “Kenton Douglas knew he didn’t approach Emme. He knew she was mine. He’s not stupid either so I reckon he also knows how she’s mine. He’s impatient to make his mark. I think he’s got good in him. I think he’ll do good things for the office. But you, Henry, Shaughnessy, Carole, watch out. Enthusiasm like that can turn bad.”

  “He jumped the gun and Emme’s Mick’s, Deck. You don’t know Mick well but he considers every citizen of Gnaw Bone his personal responsibility. You weren’t here when Douglas got back from talkin’ to Emme, but Mick was not real pleased because Douglas didn’t even tell Mick he was makin’ that ride. Mick also understood you had a connection and he’s the kind of man who would have told you he was rollin’ out in a cruiser so you’d have a heads-up. So, what I’m sayin’ is, this isn’t lost on us.”

  They held each other’s gazes for a moment before Deck murmured, “I gotta find my girl.”

  “You want my help?” Chace offered.

  “You feel like cruisin’ a few streets before goin’ home to Faye, yeah.”

  Deck knew the answer before Chace gave it to him.

  “I can do that.”

  Deck nodded. They moved out and Deck avoided Douglas as he did so.

  No one stopped him. His file was thorough. Officers went out to pick up suspects after three pages were read. They were busy following leads Deck gave them and corroborating evidence he supplied.

  But Deck’s job was done.

  So it was time to find Emme.

  * * *

  Four and a half hours later…

  As Deck’s truck moved down the street to his house, he knew why neither he, nor any of his boys, nor Chace, nor anyone he’d put a feeler out to could find Emme.

  Because she was at his house.

  He did not know if that was good or bad.

  But he reckoned it was bad.

  He hit his garage door opener, drove by her Bronco in his drive and parked in the garage.

  Snow was being forecast for the night. He’d move her truck in after they had the conversation he figured they were going to have.

  He found her in his great room, no jacket, no scarf, no purse. She’d lit out so pissed she likely hadn’t grabbed anything but her keys.

  She was sitting on one of his denim-covered sofas, Buford sitting on the floor by her side, his head on her knee, her hand scratching behind his ears. His dog didn’t move anything except his eyes to Deck when he walked in, that was how much he liked exactly where he was. Hell, Deck reckoned this could have been their positions for the last seven hours, Buford liked to have his ears scratched that much.

  He stopped moving, they locked eyes and before he could say a word, she started.

  “You knew me for five years, didn’t even mildly flirt. You,” she lifted her hands and did air quotation marks, “run into me three days ago when I’m with Dane, after nine years of nothing, you’ve got all the time in the world for me.”

  “Em—”

  She interrupted him, saying, “Don’t even start. Whatever you’ve got to say will be full of shit.” He took two steps toward her but she halted his progress by hissing, “Don’t bother. I’m leaving.”

  She gave Buford one last stroke and rose from the couch as he spoke. “Emme, listen to me.”

  “No fucking way,” she told the floor, eyes to her feet, feet moving fast.

  Deck moved faster.

  He cut her off and she tried rounding him so he shifted and cut her off again.

  She took two steps back and squared off, eyes slicing back to his.

  “Let me pass, Jacob,” she demanded.

  “Baby, you gotta—”

  He didn’t get that out. For some reason, his words tripped something in her and she advanced, fast. Shoving a palm into his chest, she pushed hard. He rocked back and caught her wrist in his hand.

  “Emme—”

  “I missed you.”

  Fuck.

  “Em—”

  She leaned into him and her hand. “You played me.”

  His hand tightened around her wrist and he growled, “I fuckin’ did not.”

  “Bullshit,” she snapped.

  “Listen to me.”

  “Fuck that,” she bit out. “This is for the birds. Next time I’m puking my guts out and so goddamned tired, I want to cry because I have to pull myself out of bed to get a 7Up to settle my stomach but I’m too fucking tired to even cry, I won’t lie there and think how fucked-up shitty it is to be so goddamned alone and so fucking lonely. Scared I’ll die, no one w
ill care. No man. No kids. Fuck that. I’ll lie there knowing all I had and all I ever had to depend on is me and that’ll get me through.”

  Fuck!

  “Emme, shut it and fuckin’ listen to me,” he ordered.

  “No fucking way,” she hissed. “Let go of my hand.”

  “Listen to me.”

  “Let go!” she yelled, twisting her wrist to get away.

  But he took a step back at the same time yanking her with him. Then he took a step forward so she collided with his frame. Her other hand came up to break her fall so when he let her wrist go and clamped both arms around her, she was stuck, her arms caught between them.

  She struggled.

  His arms got tighter.

  She stopped struggling and her head jerked back. “Let me go.”

  “I can’t talk about my work.”

  “Yeah,” she tossed back. “Bet that’s even more so when it’s a mark you’re playing for your work asking about said work.”

  “Emme, you weren’t a mark. Honest to God, I was as surprised as you when I met you on the street, and I didn’t know you were involved in the investigation they were contracting me for until ten minutes after we made plans for dinner.”

  “Now I bet you were glad you made that date,” she shot back with extreme sarcasm.

  “Yeah, I was, babe, because,” his arms grew tighter and his face dipped closer, “I missed you too.”

  “Well, you know, seeing as you lived not far away for a while and you have awesome powers, I figure if you did miss me so damned much, you could have done something about it. That was a door you had to open, Jacob, and we both know it. But you didn’t. Not until I was dating a felon you were investigating. So forgive me if I find the coincidence too much to take. But I fucking,” she got up on her toes, narrowed those fucking beautiful eyes, her fire dancing in them, and she finished, “do.”

  She wouldn’t shut up and listen?

  He’d shut her up and communicate a different way.

  So he did.

  He slid one hand up to cup the back of her head, tilted it and crushed his mouth to hers.

  She struggled, opening her mouth to protest and he slid his tongue inside.

  Fuck, she smelled of strawberries and tasted like them too. Fresh, cool and sweet.

  At the touch of his tongue, Emme went completely still.