Read Dust Up with the Detective Online
Authors: Danica Winters
Wrapping his arms around her, he led her to the concrete column behind them, pressing her body against the cold stone. It made the heat of his kiss more intense, and her body throbbed with lust.
He stopped and looked down at her sling. “Are you sure you are okay? You can do this?”
She answered with a seductive smile. There was no possible way she was going to pass up on her chance to be with Jeremy. This may be the last time they could be together. He would go back to Missoula as soon as their investigation was over, and once again she would be alone. At least this way she could be left with the memory of their time together.
One by one she undid his buttons, making her way down his shirt and exposing his chest. She felt his muscles tighten as she moved lower and ran her fingers over the ridges of his perfect body.
“I only need one good hand,” she said, slipping her hand in the waistband of his pants until she found her target.
She took control of him and stroked his length. He threw his head back and pulled in a ragged breath as she moved.
After a moment, his hard, hot hand stilled hers and he withdrew it. Giving as he got, he reached down and unfastened her pants. Sliding the fabric down her thighs, he let them fall to the stone. He took off his shirt and laid it on the ground. The muscles of his chest were highlighted by the moon, making him seem mystical, like a Greek god who had come to her in the night.
Ever so gingerly, he laid her on his shirt and pulled her panties down her legs, kissing her skin as they inched lower.
She relished the feel of his moist breath and the tender movement of his kiss, but as she looked around she suddenly remembered where they were.
“Don’t you think we should hurry? What if someone sees us?” she said, her voice breathless and drunken with want.
He looked up at her from between her thighs. “I’ve wanted this...and you...for too long to want to rush.”
Reaching up, he pulled the rose from behind her ear. Ever so slowly, he traced the velvet petals over her legs, kissing each place the flower brushed. He ran the petals toward the heat at her center. As his lips moved up her thigh, she forgot her apprehension.
His tongue fluttered against her, light at first but stroke by stroke his mouth drove harder against her, making her body feel as though she would fall to pieces under the pleasure of his touch.
“No,” she whispered, though her body begged her to say only yes. She ran her fingers through his hair as he looked up from between her thighs. “I want to feel you... All of you.”
He leaned down and kissed her, making her tremble with lust.
“Please,” she begged.
He smiled as he looked at her, his eyes mirroring her want and he moved up between her thighs.
“I’m yours... I’ve wanted you... This... Always.” He drove himself inside of her with just the right mix of gentleness and force.
He moved inside of her, her body rising to his. She shifted her hips, pulling him deeper. Their bodies moved together until she wasn’t sure exactly who was who. The world disappeared as he laced his fingers through her hair and took her lips.
Her body parted for him, taking all of him, wanting all of him...needing everything he could give.
She wanted this moment to last. Yet her breath caught in her throat as her body disobeyed her mind.
“Jeremy...” she whispered, her voice urgent and telling of what her body promised.
“Yes,” he said, his mouth caressing her earlobe. “Yes, be mine.”
She let herself go as he drove hard and fast inside of her.
Stars flecked her vision and, as Jeremy’s body mimicked hers, for a moment she wasn’t sure if something that felt so glorious and right could be real.
Jeremy lowered his body, letting his head fall to her chest as if he wanted to listen to the sounds of her heart. She held him, running her fingers dazedly over the muscles of his shoulders and through his hair.
She had waited for so long for this moment, if only it could last forever.
Chapter Nineteen
Jeremy wasn’t the type to smile like an idiot, but he couldn’t help the contented grin that had taken over his face and made his cheeks grow sore. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was, at least for one night.
He held Blake’s hand as they crested the hill that led back to his parents’ place. As they approached, the front porch light was on, but inside the house was dark. He was a bit relieved. There was no way he could have hidden what had happened and the giddiness he felt.
Making love with Blake was everything he’d hoped it would be. And he never wanted it to end. But he knew it must. She needed to rest, and they had a case they needed to get back to in the morning. A case riddled with questions.
As if she read his mind, she asked him one. “When you guys went back to Todd’s place, did you find any evidence of a woman living at his property?”
“Why?”
“What if Tiffany had been living with Todd? Maybe she had been there, hiding out. Maybe that was what Todd was hiding.”
It made sense. If Blake was right, it was no wonder that Todd wanted nothing to do with them or their investigation.
“Was Todd’s truck still there?”
He frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“Then I think we need to put an APB out on his truck. If we find it, we may find Tiffany.”
* * *
O
VERNIGHT
A
LATE
-
SUMMER
storm had rolled in. The gray, ominous clouds that had dampened the earth still loomed overhead, threatening more rain. They had been making phone calls all day, tracking down Tiffany’s friends, and they had gotten their first solid lead when they had called a woman named Judith. She had sounded concerned about her friend’s disappearance, but there had also been an edge of panic in her voice that made Blake want to reach out and talk in person with the woman.
The truck sloshed through the mud puddles, kicking up fat droplets of muck onto the windshield as Jeremy bumped down the road that led to Tiffany’s best friend’s house.
Despite her administrative leave, Blake had refused to be left out of this investigation. It felt strange to not have her badge on her chest. Yet with or without her badge, she had to protect her family, and the only way she knew how was by stopping whomever had threatened them. It had been painful to watch as Megan had spent the morning cautiously lurching around the house, looking out the windows toward their home and talking about the threat. Megan had wanted to go home, but the idea hadn’t been discussed. They needed the relative safety of Jeremy’s parents’ place.
Jeremy’s mother had seemed almost excited at the prospect of others helping to keep her from her routine with her husband, though she still gave the man the side-eye every time they were in the same room together.
As long as she could remember, the Lawrences had always had a turbulent relationship, but with Robert’s death it was doubtful that their marriage would survive. The resentment that surfaced after a child died, even an adult child, rarely brought a couple together. In all honesty, it was a wonder they were still married, but it made sense as to why Jeremy seemed to steer away from anything approaching a relationship—with the exception of last night.
She licked her lips. She could almost still taste his kiss.
Looking over at him as he talked on the phone, she watched as his mouth moved. The simple action made her warm with lust as she thought of all the places his lips had traveled in the moonlight.
Jeremy hung up and turned his attention back to the road. “I told Judith we’d be there in less than five minutes. You get an update on the APB on Todd’s truck?”
She shook her head. No one had seen the truck or the woman they were looking for. It was like they were chasing a phantom—and maybe they were. If Tiffany Lawrence was dead, their investigation was, as well. Even though they could prove Todd was land grubbing, there was no proof that he had killed Robert. They had only a few leads, and even fewer people who seemed to have any usable information.
This was her last hope to save her career. If they didn’t solve this case, she had no doubt that not only would she be fired from the department; it was unlikely that she would ever be hired in law enforcement again. She would end up right where she had started, a single mother without a dependable income, left to find a path in life that would keep her and her family above water.
“You okay?” Jeremy reached over and touched her neck, gently stroking his strong, callused thumb over her skin.
She melted at his touch. “Absolutely.”
Her mother would have called out her lie in an instant, but Jeremy just looked at her. Perhaps he didn’t know she was lying, or else he had decided to delve no further. Either way he remained silent as they slogged down the road.
They pulled to a stop in front of a big, beautiful log cabin and walked up the slate path. The impressive structure had a green metal roof and a hand-carved alder front door complete with a horse’s head door knocker. The place oozed wealth.
She pressed the doorbell, and chimes sounded. A woman in a black maid’s uniform answered the door. In all of her life, this was the last kind of place she would have expected to find a friend of Tiffany’s. The last time Blake had seen Tiffany, she had been strung out on liquor and taking wide, drunken swings at her husband. To say she was an alcoholic was an understatement. But was it possible that Blake had gotten her all wrong? Had she just seen the woman at her low point, the recipient of a ticket for disturbing the peace?
“May I help you?” the maid asked, looking them up and down.
“We’re here to ask the lady of the house a few questions about Tiffany Lawrence. Is she around?” Jeremy asked. He looked as taken aback as she was at the juxtaposition between Tiffany’s lifestyle and her best friend’s, but he kept quiet.
The maid looked back over her shoulder. “I can see if she’s available, sir.” The door clicked shut behind her as she left them standing there to wait.
“Are you sure we have the right place?” Blake asked.
Jeremy shrugged. “I got this woman’s name from my mother. She said she had seen Tiffany and this Judith woman running around as thick as thieves.”
“But your mother didn’t tell you she was loaded?”
He shook his head as the front door opened and a slim blonde stood before them. Her perfectly coifed hair reminded Blake of one of the cover models that adorned
Vogue
.
“How do you do, ma’am,” Jeremy said, acting the gentleman. “Do you mind if we come in?”
The woman nodded and motioned for them to follow her inside. Her stilettos tapped on the marble floors, echoing in the cavernous entrance. “I’m so glad you called. I’ve been so worried about Tiffany,” she said, her voice carrying the lilt of the well educated. “Is it true that she may have been murdered?” She stopped walking as they entered the living room and turned to face them.
“We aren’t at liberty to discuss that, ma’am,” Jeremy answered.
For some reason, Blake couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy that crept through her. Just because the woman was well kept, skinny and beautiful didn’t mean that Jeremy wanted her. Though, admittedly, he was being more formal than she had ever seen him. Her jealousy grew, making an angry knot form in her stomach.
“Are you friends with Mrs. Lawrence, Mrs....” Blake waited for a moment as the woman looked her over.
“It’s Ms. Judith Davy,” the woman said, thumbing the heavy-looking diamond and matching wedding band on her left hand.
Of course she was a Davy. Marcus Davy had been one of the founders of the mines in their city. It made perfect sense that the woman before them would be related.
She glanced over at Jeremy, but he seemed focused on the massive river rock fireplace that ran from the ceiling to the floor of the living room.
“Nice painting,” he said, motioning above the mantel at an oil painting of an elk bugling as it stood in a running brook. Snowy mountain peaks dotted the background.
“Thanks, it’s my husband’s. He’s more of an outdoorsman than I am. Tiffany and I bonded over that,” she said, perching on the edge of the leather sofa. She motioned for them to take a seat across from her.
“What do you mean you bonded over that?” Blake sat down. The pedestal of the coffee table between them was a bronze statue that looked like fish swimming through a stream.
Ms. Davy adjusted the cuffs of her sweater. “Well, Miss—”
“It’s Deputy West,” Blake said, once again wishing she was wearing her uniform.
“Excuse me,
Deputy
West,” Judith said with the raise of an eyebrow as she looked at Blake’s department-store button-down white blouse.
Jeremy looked over at her and frowned. “Anyway,” he said, turning back to Ms. Davy, “how would you classify your friendship with Tiffany?”
The woman relaxed a bit, easing back into the safety of her sofa. “Tiffany and I have been friends for a long time now. She loves to come over. We often shop for antiques together.”
The tale screamed foul. Tiffany had always seemed more likely to take methamphetamines than to spend a day shopping, but Blake remained quiet. Maybe Tiffany had been a social chimera—able to spend the days in the mine alongside her husband, and in her off time climb the ladder of high society.
“Have you been in contact with Tiffany lately?” Jeremy asked.
“I heard about what happened to her husband. I tried to call her the other day, after I heard, but she didn’t answer.” The woman’s face contorted as if she was angry with herself for talking to them.
Everything about this place and this woman felt wrong.
“Had you talked to her in the days before you heard about Robert’s death?” Blake pressed.
The woman glanced to her left. “Absolutely not.”
The woman was lying. Blake could hear it in her inflection. It was the same sound she had made when she had lied to Jeremy. The sound was too high, the air too flippant. She was certain Ms. Davy was a fraud.
“When was the last time you talked to her?” Jeremy continued.
Blake moved toward him and was going to signal him that it was time to go, but she held back.
“I talked to Tiffany about a week ago. My husband and I had invited her and Robert over for supper. Unfortunately, at the last minute, Todd couldn’t make it.”
“Who did you say your husband was, Ms. Davy?” Blake asked.
The woman looked over at her and smiled. Her teeth were long and sharp, and she reminded Blake of a tiger. “My husband? Oh, his name’s John.”
“John Davy? Like the golfer?” Blake asked.
The woman laughed, the high sound stinging her ears. “Close, that’s John Daly. No, I didn’t take my husband’s name when we got married. My husband is the mayor...Mayor John Engelman.”
“He’s your
husband
?” Blake tried to sound assertive, but her voice came out as a breathless squeak.
Judith smiled, her tigerlike fangs reappearing. “Are you friends of his?”
Blake bit her tongue so hard she could taste the iron-rich flavor of blood.
“We’re acquainted. He was at the shooting competition the other day—is that correct?” Jeremy asked.
The woman gave a shrill laugh. “Oh, yes. We hired him to make a speech at the finals.”
“
You
hired him?”
“Not me, but I’m on the board for the Montana Handgun Association.”
“You’re a sharpshooter?” Jeremy leaned forward, tenting his fingers in front of him like he was calling forth the beast.
She laughed. “I’m decent with a gun, but it’s just a hobby—you know, something to give me a break from work.”
“What kind of work is it that you do, Ms. Davy?”
“I’m the CFO for my husband’s company, Tartarus Environmental Investments.” Her phone rang and she hurried across the room to pick it up. She answered it, saying something in what Blake assumed was Japanese.
She must have asked the caller to hold, because she lowered the phone and turned to them. “Detective, Deputy, I’m afraid I can’t be any more help in your attempt to find Tiffany. I need to get back to my work. I’m sure you know how it is.” She forced a smile as she lifted her phone like it was evidence of her business, but there was a new strain in the way she moved, as if it was crucial they leave.
“We understand,” Jeremy said, holding out his hand to help Blake stand. He gave it a light squeeze, reassuring her that she wasn’t alone in her suspicion.
Every cell in her body screamed for her to slap her cuffs on the woman and take her straight to jail, but there wasn’t room for any more mistakes. Judith was a powerful and dangerous woman.