Confess (The Blue Line Series Book 1) (20 page)

This is what she got for telling her secret.
Damaged goods
, she’d heard officers call her when they thought she wasn’t listening.

She lowered her head, her vision blurred with unshed tears. “I never should have told you about Wray. It was too much.”

Before she could finish, Mitch spun on her. He kneaded her shoulders between his big fists. “God no, Lacy. Don’t say that.” He looked at his hands as if he’d thought better of touching her again and let go. “That’s not why.” He raked his fingers through his hair and over the back of his neck. His throat strained with unspoken words.

The tension between them made her muscles cramp. She wrapped an arm around her middle, hoping to calm the pain. “Then why, Mitch, because right now I’m feeling like telling you my secret was the biggest mistake of my life, and I really need you to tell me it wasn’t.”
Lie to me if you have to, but please make this pain stop.

Mitch sank to the bed, emotion pulling every visible muscle on his body tight, and she guessed all the ones she couldn’t see as well. If she could do anything to ease his agony, she would.

Anything.

He dropped his head into one hand, his dark hair falling over his fingers. “Come here,” he commanded and Lacy did as told. He took her hands and led her down to kneel before him on the floor. She watched him struggle for words. ”I wasn’t given this assignment. Truth is, if Nashville found out I’ve been searching for this killer, they’d take my badge.”

“And your job means everything to you, I get that.” She rubbed his bare shoulder. “I live with cops, remember.”

“It’s more than a job to me. I’ve spent most of my life obsessed with Richard Wray.”

Prickles of fear sparked up her back.
Obsessed
?

“I became a detective solely to make sure that man never knew the feeling of freedom again as long as he lived and a hundred fucking years after that.” He clenched his fists at his sides. “The girl on my phone, the picture you saw outside the bar that first night.”

She nodded, scared to speak. Scared of what he would say next.

“I still hear her screams in my dreams. I see her body wrapped in a blue plastic tarp, bloody little fingers with the nails torn from digging into his flesh. Blue ropes tied tight around her slender arms.”

Something inside her popped. Emotion flooded everything, her hearing, her vision. Everything blocked from her mind but him and the horrible anticipation of what came next. She reached for his hands and circled her fingers around his fists.

He looked down to her, tears wetting his lashes. God, she’d never seen a man this emotional. It deflated her from the inside out. Her stomach twisted, and her throat closed tight. Dizzy spots dotted her vision.

“Mitch.” She crawled up into his lap and wrapped herself around him and whispered into his neck. She needed to feel him around her. She needed his reassurance.

After a moment, his arms came up and pulled her close, holding her. Wringing strength from her. She sat still, letting him regain himself, waiting for his body to still and her own shivers to subside before pulling away enough to look in his unfocused eyes.

“If I hadn’t hid my kidnapping, Sadie might still be alive.”

He pressed his mouth to hers, hushing the words. His kiss was soft before he pulled away. His eyes focused more, his breathing calming. “Your father was right to protect you, Angel. Don’t ever doubt that even for a second.”

He’d called her by her nickname again. She couldn’t decide which Mitch scared her the most. The one who called her by name and argued like a seasoned hostage negotiator, or this one with the soft touch who always said exactly what she needed to hear and called her Angel.

Lacy dropped her head back to his shoulder and laid there, taking in his scent and his warmth, memorizing the rise and fall of his chest on her cheek and the feel of his arms around her back. She let her mind drift to the thought nudging its way to her mouth. “This was never supposed to be anything more than sex.”

She held her breath and waited for his response. His chest rose sharply under her. His exhale blew warmth over her ear. “But it is more. And that’s why we need to stop.”

“Huh?” Her head rose. Her eyes met his, questioning, pleading. Begging to have heard him wrong.

Mitch wrapped his hands around her hips and lifted her. Her bare feet barely touched the ground before he let go and turned his back, again.

Lacy looked away, collected her shirt from the floor and escaped his scrutinizing gaze into the master bathroom.

She fumed, tugging on her tank, but by the time she pulled on her boots, the sobs broke into tears. She sank down to the edge of a garden tub she’d envisioned sharing with him some night in the near future, dropped her head in her hands and let the dam inside break.

The soft knock on the door startled her. “Lacy.” She hadn’t locked the door. Why didn’t he just walk right in, take charge like he always did? “Open the door. I need to know you’re all right before I take you home.”

All right?
Damn it, Lace. He doesn’t owe you anything. Sex was the deal. No explanations. No commitments. No relationships. You got exactly what you agreed to
.

With a quick wipe of her eyes, she finished dressing and opened the door to find him leaning on the frame. The fact he looked as rattled and unnerved as she felt brought her a little comfort.

“Lace, I’m sorry.” His words cut deep into the fresh wounds of his rejection. She bit her cheek to keep from flinching. “I should never have let things get this far.”

She bit the inside of her cheek harder, determined not to cry. Determined not to let him see her fall apart. With a steadying breath, she steeled her voice.

“Just let me go, Mitch. I’ll find my own way home.”

***

Lacy slammed the truck door harder than she’d meant to, earning her a discerning stare from Connie in the driver’s seat.

“Booty call gone horribly wrong?” Connie shifted gears and backed around the motorcycle Lacy wished she’d just run the hell over instead.

“He’s a damn cop.” Lacy rolled her eyes back to the house and the silhouette standing in the bay window, watching her leave with a cool arrogance.

Connie shifted the truck to drive and gunned it around the turn, spitting gravel in her wake. “Well, hon. You knew that before you started sleeping with him.”

“Yeah.” She glanced over at Connie, still wearing her Charlie’s shirt and the strong smell of alcohol. “Sorry you had to cut your shift short to pick me up.”

Connie laughed. “Yeah, because every girl wants to inventory dusty old bottles of booze at four in the morning.” She glanced at Lacy before turning onto the main road. “Your troubles are my saving grace, Doll. It hurts to hear, but it’s the truth.”

Lacy barked a laugh that burned her throat. Connie always spoke directly from her heart, no filter required. It had taken more than a while and a couple of arguments to get used to Connie’s brand of honesty, but now Lacy wouldn’t trade it for a world of friends.

“So, what’d he do that was bad enough to invoke the early morning skip-out session?”

Lacy bounced in her seat as Connie gunned the truck over the next bump. “He kicked me out.”

The truck skidded to a stop so fast, Lacy had to grab the granny bar to keep from shattering her pelvic bone on it.

“He what?” Connie slapped her hands on the steering wheel and screamed.

“A little louder, Connie. I don’t think all the cows heard you scream yet.”

Connie ignored her. “Where the hell does he get off kicking you—”

“Dad had something to do with it,” Lacy shot out. It was times like this when she hated Wray the most. The times when he still entered into her everyday life and took small freedoms from her. Her relationship with Connie with a secret between them. Her relationship with Mitch and the truth ripping them apart.

As sick as it sounded, she couldn’t stand where this conversation was about to lead. “Mitch bashing isn’t going to help, and he wasn’t wrong for breaking things off. It’s just easier that way when things are this complicated.”

“Did he tell you that? What a fucking dick.”

Lacy looked out the window to keep from falling apart. “No he didn’t. Not in so many words anyway.”

“But he can’t just dump you. He’s an ass.”

Lacy pushed her stray hair from her face to cover the fact she was really wiping away tears. “A stubborn ass.”

When she didn’t say more, Connie eased the truck back up to speed along the vacant road leading into town. “It’s for the best.” She patted Lacy’s leg and passed a genuine smile through red colored lips. “I was beginning to miss having you around.”

Lacy pushed away the tears she couldn’t seem to stop. “You too,” she blurted before emotion took over her voice.

Connie stared straight ahead to the road. “Before long we’ll have a loan and a lease, and Detective Asswipe will be a distant memory.” She gave Lacy’s leg a bump with her knee. “You’ll see. Chicks before dicks. You don’t need him. You’ve got me.”

Lacy leaned over across the seat and laid her head on Connie’s shoulder and closed her eyes as the bright streetlights of downtown washed over her face. If leaving him behind could only be that easy, but she’d have to find a way to make it so because Mitch wasn’t coming back into her life, and they’d all been right. She was damaged goods.

***

After seeing Lacy safely off with Connie, Mitch took the highway along the Hiawassee River, letting the muted dawn colors and the scenic river dull the raging anger cutting holes through his insides.

How could he have been so careless with her?

He gripped the handlebars tighter, twisting the grips into his palms until the rubber bit into his bare skin. The pain did little to ease the emotions clouding his brain.

His pocket vibrated. He pulled into a coffee shop parking lot and checked the caller ID, cursing himself the second he hoped to see Lacy’s number on the small screen. “Bishop?” he barked into the receiver.

“Try to contain your enthusiasm, Kilpatrick. Those one-night stands are making you arrogant as hell. And what’s with leaving me a voice mail on my landline about a botched kidnapping when you know I’d answer my cell?”

Mitch lowered the kickstand, leaned the bike to the right, and dismounted before he answered. “Because, I knew you’d answer your cell.” Since he’d watched Lacy march down the front steps and climb into Connie’s truck, he hadn’t felt like talking to anyone, not even his closest friend. Especially not the one person who would make him realize what a fucked up jerk he was for letting her go.

“Understandable.” Bishop’s voice lowered. “But this isn’t a social call. You’re being called back to Nashville. It’s a shit storm around here, and the captain wants you in his office as soon as possible. Brass got wind of your personal investigation, and they’ve got questions.”

“How much wind?” Mitch skipped over the questions part and shoved the phone closer, drowning out the traffic noise on the highway.

“Enough to shut down the investigation for good. There is enough evidence linking Richard Wray with the murders, and your gut feeling isn’t enough for them anymore. They want solid evidence, or the case is closed.”

“That’s not happening.” Badge or not, he wouldn’t stop until the man who killed Sadie rotted behind bars or worse. “What if I told you I have a lead on something?” His stomach bottomed out at the thought of Lacy testifying in court.

“It would have to be damn solid.” Bishop’s voice sounded ominous. Nothing shook the seasoned detective. Mitch pressed the cell the tighter against his ear.

He sucked in a sharp breath, sending his lungs thumping against his backbone. “What if I had a witness?”

“Pretty thang?”

Mitch groaned a yes into the phone. “She could be the missing link to prove Wray didn’t kill those two women.”

“How?”

Mitch rubbed his hand hard over his face. “For now just leave it at incriminating evidence. If I need to tell more, I will.”

Another deafening ring of silence. “They’re going to want more than that to keep the case open.”

“If it comes to that, they’ll have it, but not before. What about the kid I asked you about? Any info on him?” Mitch hedged.

“Nothing more than a couple DWIs. College kid on the verge of becoming a loser by twenty-two. No crime in that.”

But since the night he’d cornered Mitch behind Charlie’s, Stetson had disappeared. “Keep digging on him. There has to be something.”

“Fine,” Bishop barked. “But you had better have a damn good reason for defying orders. Heads are going to roll if you can’t bring something enlightening to the table.”

Mitch rubbed his fingers over his eyes. Maybe if he could figure out a way he could keep her name out of this. “I think we are dealing with two separate murderers. Someone working from inside the law. If I can prove that, she’d never take the stand.”

Computer keys clicked away in the background. “To make it stick, she’d have to take the stand. You know that.”

Mitch landed a clean blow against the brick exterior of the coffee shop. Blood pooled around his knuckles and dripped down one finger, but he didn’t care. He cursed under his breath and shook his hand, sending splatters of blood across the front of his white shirt.

“There has got to be some other way to prove this isn’t Wray.”

Bishop’s voice dropped to a sympathetic tone. “We’ve exhausted our resources, Mitch. She’s the reason you went down there in the first place, to find the missing link and sound the alarm against a new killer.” Mitch only heard what Bishop didn’t say.
You weren’t supposed to get attached.
“If you think you can get her to talk, I’ll order a warrant today.”

Mitch backed into the brick wall and slid down to his ass. A two-hour drive to Nashville and thirty minutes of watching Lacy Andrews face her demons, and Mitch could debunk the link between Wray and the recent murders. In three hours, they could be hunting the killer. The real killer. No one else would have to die.

“You’ll be in charge of the whole deal, Mitch. You’ll be able to control everything that happens to her from the time you pick her up at home until the time you drop her off again. The department will follow your orders. She’ll be safe.”