Good Girl Gone Bad (21 page)

“I wanted this the minute I saw you, Phil,” he whispered against her lips, his tongue tracing the sensitive bottom lip.

“Make love to me, Ty.” She arched against him, wanting the sublime pain of him engorging her aching void.

An alarm trilling like a locomotive screamed through her mind. She shot up out of bed and looked for Ty…but he wasn’t there. She was alone, just as she’d been all night.

Breathing heavily, she pounded the offending mechanism with her fist and nearly cried in frustration. It wasn’t the first time she’d had the dream. Each time she came closer and closer to Ty filling her.

She flung off the covers and stomped into the bathroom for a cold shower.

Phil buried her lifelike dreams and concentrated on getting an early start, her promise to Ty dust in the wind. It would take only an hour out of her day to get to Margery and ask a few questions. No harm, no foul.

Amazingly, she felt guilty. She shrugged it off. They’d rehashed the kidnapping case until her brain swelled and went numb. She’d come up with a decent list of information after Ty left last night. She’d e-mailed the list to Ty and she’d give it her undivided attention when she went into the task force office after giving her statement and her interview with Margery.

Besides, she told herself, she needed mental time away from the club. And what better way to spend her time than honing her investigative skills on another case?

Phil sprinted up the concrete stairwell to Margery’s apartment.

Just as she knocked, the door opened. “Who are you?” Phil asked the surprised young woman. There was no way this woman was the haggard blonde in Margery Flint’s booking photo. But there was a definite resemblance.

“Who are
you
and why are you here?” the woman threw back.

“I’m Officer Zorn, Lansdowne PD. I came to speak to Margery Flint. Is she home?”

The woman shook her head. “No, she isn’t.”

“Is that unusual?”

The girl eyed Phil contemplatively, then shrugged her shoulders. “She called last night, upset; she said she needed to speak with me. Here I am, and she’s gone.”

“Did she go to work?”

“She works nights down at the Cutty Sark. She should be home, she never gets up this early.”

Phil scowled.

Concern laced the girl’s words. Phil figured she wasn’t a day over eighteen. “Do you mind if I take a look inside?”

The girl hesitated. “Mom doesn’t have much.”

Ah, a daughter. Did she know Mac?

“I only want to take a look. No tricks.”

She stood back from the door. “Okay. I’m Mindy, by the way, Margery’s daughter.”

“Nice to meet you, Mindy.” Phil twitched her lips into a smile, then walked past her into the small, dowdy apartment.

It was true that Margery Flint didn’t have much in this life. The sparse furniture might have showed signs of life two decades ago. But everything was neat and in its place. Plants thrived in the little window in the kitchen. Phil wondered how people managed that. With the exception of Bubba so far, everything died at her hand.

The bedroom wasn’t much larger than a walk-in closet, the bed neatly made. Nothing appeared disturbed. The bathroom was orderly.

“It looks like she just left. Any idea where to?” Phil asked, turning to Mindy. The girl wrinkled her nose and stepped toward the small table. Running a finger across the battered Formica, she said, “It’s strange that Mom would be gone at this time of the morning.”

“Maybe she got a phone call from a friend?”

“Mom had no friends.”

Maybe, Phil thought, she scared her off yesterday with her phone call. While Margery Flint had little in this world, if she skipped town she would have taken her few possessions. Or maybe, someone insisted she leave.

“Do you remember about eight years ago your mom was involved with a cop named Mac?”

Mindy’s eyes clouded and she wheeled away. “That was a bad time for my mom. She never liked to talk about it. Neither do I.”

“I understand your reluctance, Mindy, but that cop was my father, and I don’t believe the lies told about him. I need to know what really happened.”

Mindy shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Officer. Now if you don’t mind…” She walked to the door and opened it. “I’d like you to leave.”

At the door, Phil tried again, but Mindy’s lips clamped shut. Phil pushed her card into Mindy’s hand, her cell phone and home number scratched on the back. “Call me, please, if you change your mind.”

Mindy said she would, but her eyes evaded Phil’s. As she left, Phil knew she wouldn’t hear from her.

Where the hell was Margery? Was she so scared of reliving what happened that she took off? Phil decided to go by the Cutty Sark and chat with the owner, see if she showed up for work last night. Hell, for all she knew, the woman went on vacation. Doubtful.

The Cutty Sark was closed on Mondays. Dammit.

She glanced at her watch. It was just as well. She needed to get her butt over to the PD and give her statement, then head to the task force office.

Showalter and Dunn took her statement without any hassles or innuendo. For that she was grateful. She suspected it was her IA ties that kept the boys muzzled. While she might not be in that brotherhood at the moment, she still had contacts.

After she left the dicks to their homicide case, she headed down to the dungeon, also known as task force HQ.

She wasn’t surprised to see the Three Stooges, Ty, Jase, and Reese, sitting at their desks, shooting the breeze. All three of them shut up the minute she walked in, and in a flurry of action found the paperwork on their desks suddenly interesting.

“Boys,” she said. Jase looked up from his desk and grinned so wide she thought his mouth would split.

“Girl,” he said. A wave of heat flooded her skin as she remembered the way he filled his pants when she danced with his two friends. “Nice moves you got there, Zorn.”

Her eyes darted to Ty and his grin rivaled Jase’s. Reese, stoic as usual, barely showed signs of life, except for the gleam dancing in his dark blue eyes. She glowered at all three of them.

“I’d like to see you strap on a G-string and pasties and dance for a living.”

Jase chortled. “I’ll leave that to you, Phil. You’re a better man than I am.”

She guessed that was a compliment. “Don’t forget it.”

Throwing Ty a heated glare, she sat down at the only desk left with an available computer in the room. Cutbacks in the PD showed everywhere. It was a wonder Lansdowne managed to staff one precinct, let alone four.

“I have some work to do myself, so if you guys don’t mind, pretend I’m a fly on the wall.”

“Sweetheart, if you’re a fly, then I’m a hungry bullfrog.” Jase laughed. “That means—”

“I know what that means, Sergeant.”

“So long as you have police business regarding your current case, have at the computer, Zorn. Otherwise, go home.” Ty’s tone told her he doubted she stopped by for the Klub Kashmir case.

“I have plenty of work to do pertaining to Operation Internal Affairs.”

He nodded. “Then get on it.”

She worked her jaw, clenching and unclenching her fists, and set her briefcase and handbag down. She glared at Ty’s back.

She didn’t know why he was being such a prick, and she didn’t much care, but she’d be damned if she’d engage him in front of his men.

“Did you get my e-mail?” she asked Ty, not looking over her shoulder.

“I got it. We’re waiting for the phone dumps and working on subpoenas for entering the hard drives.”

She turned around in her chair and faced him. Three sets of eyes rested on her. “How long do you think that’ll take?”

“Maybe this afternoon. I wrote up the warrant last night and faxed it over to Judge Shapiro. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Did you include the Kashmir phones and office computer in that subpoena?”

Ty’s eyes narrowed. “Did you ask that because you believe the snitch would be stupid enough to crap where he or she works or because your captain told you to?”

Philamina literally felt the heat shoot from her chest to her neck, then to her cheeks. “Did anyone ever tell you, Lieutenant Jamerson, that you are a prick?”

“On several occasions.”

Jase coughed.

“We added the phones to the dump,” Reese said, “and the Klub Kashmir hard drive in the subpoena.”

“Thank you, Reese, for your professional response.”

He nodded and shot his lieu a glare. Phil didn’t spare Ty another look. Instead, she shut down her computer. Gathering her briefcase and bag, she stood. “I have nothing more to do here.” She turned to Reese. “If you need manpower to seize the hard drives, let me know.”

“The geek squad handles that, but I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

Ty smiled smugly as he watched the door close behind Zorn’s fine ass. Served her right. She gave him her word she’d set aside her father’s case. She’d pay for breaking it.

He swiped his hand across the fine stubble on his chin. His harsh treatment went deeper. He wanted distance. Needed it. And he didn’t know any other way to push her away than the obvious.

“I think you finally met your match, old man,” Reese said. He smiled at his commander and shook his head. “That woman has more piss and vinegar than most.”

Jase grinned and stretched out in his chair. He propped his feet up on his desk, crossing them at the ankle, and leaned back, locking his fingers behind his head. “Yep, yep, yep, looks like old StreetSmart has a problem.”

“I have no problem. You two have too much time on your hands.”

“Sorry, man. I can see it in your eyes.”

Ty shrugged, stood, and flexed his biceps. “Lust, my man, pure and simple.”

Reese snorted. “Uh-huh, whatever you want to call it, you have it bad for her. Can’t say I blame you. She is one prime piece of femininity. Worthy of at least a few weeks of my time.”

Ty scowled at his man. The thought of Phil and Reese twisting up the sheets bothered him. What bothered him more was the fact that it bothered him. Another reason for him to put distance between them. “Be my guest.” Ty choked on the words. “But get in line.”

Reese’s eyes narrowed.

“Pulling rank on us?” Jase asked.

Ty nodded, sat down at the computer, and brought up a file. “Whatever it takes. She’ll be around long after I transfer out of here.”

“Yeah, and hating on all of us when she finds out who you are.”

Ty shrugged, but his gut twisted. “She’ll find out soon enough.”

His silence curtailed further conversation.

Not for the first time in the three years she’d owned her house, Phil felt a wave of loneliness as she locked the door behind her. Despite her lieu’s rude behavior a half hour ago, she grudgingly admitted she missed his presence in her house. Aside from her, no one else had spent so much time in it.

It looked like she’d scared him off, why she didn’t know. She probably even killed the damn fish he gave her.

She pretended it wouldn’t matter, but just the same, Phil hurried to the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief. Bubba was alive and swimming. She gave him two tiny balls of food.

As he sucked them up like the glutton he was, she smiled. Maybe she could keep something alive after all. Her hamster died the day after she got it for her tenth birthday. Her mother hadn’t minded in the least. It took an act of Congress to get her to allow such “vermin” in her house in the first place.

Mother didn’t care for anything furry, feathered, or scaled. Hammy the hamster lasted twenty-four hours. After Phil cried for a week, her father brought home a replacement: a little green turtle. Knowing turtles loved the sun, Phil set Hermy in his little water bowl on the sill of her bedroom window. By the time she got home from school that day, Hermy was turtle soup. Both her parents told her she was not blessed with nurturing skills. After Hermy, she believed them.

Inadvertently, her thoughts trailed back to Ty. What the hell crawled up his ass this morning? Was his rudeness his way of saying he’d cooled toward her? Or…shit! Did he know about her visit to Margery Flint’s apartment?

Worry etched sharply across her gut. She paced the kitchen floor.

He could have fired her on the spot. She sucked in a deep breath. Her temporary lapse in judgment went against her moral fiber. Her zeal to see her father’s name restored could prevent her from finding a kidnapper and possibly a murderer.

How much stupider could she be? Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself down. If he was going to fire her, he would have done it already. Relief infused her. He didn’t know.

She looked absently around her clinical kitchen. With the exception of Bubba, there was no warmth. The walls were white, the floor white, the appliances white. The place needed some color, some life. Maybe she’d buy a plant. A live one. Start easy. A cactus.

She stepped over to Bubba’s bowl and lightly tapped it with her nail. “Hey, big guy, do you want a girlfriend?”

The little fish surfaced and blew a bubble. “I’ll take that as a resounding yes.”

Phil showered, nibbled at an apple, and basically puttered around the house. Every time she walked into the kitchen, her eyes went to her desk and the drawer that held the files Captain Dettmer had given her.

She told herself it was okay to pore through them again, especially since she was in wait mode for the info on her current case. Technically, today was her day off, so she was free to pursue her personal pursuits, like her father’s case.

Her emotional ping-pong graced her with a headache. She took two aspirins. Long after the sun set her head still pounded. She felt trapped, anxious, like a full-grown cat restricted to one of those little cages in an animal shelter.

She had such cabin fever she was on the brink of calling her mom and asking if she could stop by. A visit was way past due, and maybe, just maybe, her mother would talk to her now about her father, after so much time.

Her cell phone rang. Phil glanced at the display—incoming call, no number. “Hello?”

“Officer Zorn?” The woman’s voice quaked.

“Yes, who is this?”

“Margery Flint.”

Phil’s heart jumped against her throat.