Hot Trick (A Detective Shelley Caldwell Novel) (9 page)

“Maybe Larson will get a bead on whoever sent that email,” Norelli said after checking in the laptop as evidence and turning it over to the department computer geek.

“We can hope.”

The addy on the email didn’t exist. If anyone could track down the email through layers of fake addresses, Marcia Larson could. And then we would get a judge to sign an order forcing the ISP to give over the name of their client. Bobby Rafferty would no doubt insist on doing it himself.

I decided to check on the hunt for Casey Brogan. I looked for the uniformed officer who’d been doing the search for me and found him in the coffee room.

“Yeah, there are a couple of Brogans on the south side, but no Caseys,” he said. “I even went out to a couple of the addresses to check in person. It’s like the guy doesn’t exist.”

Which made me wonder where a banshee might live.

I headed back to my desk, going over the events of the last twenty-four hours in my mind.

A man who might or might not exist, and might or might not be a supernatural creature.

Thieves who magically escaped from a paddy wagon.

A magician who tried to get into my mind.

I didn’t like the way things were adding up. We still hadn’t interviewed Sebastian’s staff—something yet to be arranged. How many people were in the know about what escape he planned to perform? His PR person and manager. And if Silke knew, then so did Oriel. Who else?

When I’d called Silke earlier, she’d mentioned meeting Sebastian for rehearsal later, but she didn’t know the specifics. That would be a good time for Norelli and me to make our appearance.

In the meantime, I needed something to do. I approached Norelli, saying, “I want to check that address in Bridgeport.”

“I need a few hours of down time so when I get that info on Fox, I have the steam to go after him.”

If he’d slept at all since I’d attached myself to him, I hadn’t seen it. “No problem. I probably won’t be gone long. I just thought I would check it out.”

“Not alone.”

His warning reminded me of Jake’s accusation that I was playing Lone Ranger again. I had been thinking of going on my own, but now I was double-warned.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see who’s available to come with me.”

But as it turned out, no one was. With all the comings and goings, it seemed like it was crime night in Chicago. Everyone was busy with some report or call. Everyone but me.

I stewed for a while, but being an impatient creature, eventually I couldn’t stand it. In the end, I decided to go alone. I was only going to check out the address, see what the street looked like, maybe talk to the neighbors, ask if anyone saw a woman of Julie Martin’s description. If I was really lucky, I would get a real name for Snake Eyes.

I would be fine. I’d have my radio and could call for backup if needed. Not wanting to drive my Camaro—it had taken enough abuse and was a recognizable target—I checked out a department car, a dark blue sedan.

Twenty minutes later, as the sun was setting, I arrived in Bridgeport. I stood between a couple of brick two-flats, staring at the flower beds. Bridgeport was a south-side neighborhood very similar to Silke’s. Some of the streets had been raised decades ago, so high first floors were now at street level and the yards several feet below.

That’s what I stared at now—a side yard, part of a double lot—and wondered why I was surprised. The address in the email to Julie Martin didn’t exist.

I imagined her getting out of her car as I was doing and looking around, perplexed. What to do?

An elderly woman carrying groceries gave me a curious expression as she headed toward the two-flat to the south of the open lot.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” I flipped her my star.

She turned her back on me, muttering, “I didn’t do nothing wrong and I don’t want any problems.”

I caught up to her. “I was just wondering if you saw a woman out here last night, looking like she was waiting for someone. Dark hair, well dressed. She drove a newer model Cadillac.”

“I didn’t see nothing.” The woman hurried up the front steps.

I was younger and faster and easily got between her and the door. “This is an official investigation, ma’am. The woman’s name was Julie Martin. Last night, she was murdered.”

Dropping her groceries to the porch floor, the woman crossed herself. “Oh, I don’t need trouble. I didn’t see nothing.”

So why didn’t I believe her?

“Not even the woman?”

She dipped her head and stooped to gather some spilled groceries. I beat her to it and as I held onto the grocery bag, looked her straight in her terrified eyes.

“Anything you can tell me might help catch the Martin woman’s murderer. We’ll take him off the streets, ma’am, put him behind bars. You want your neighborhood to be safe, don’t you? You don’t want anyone else hurt?”

“All right, all right.” She straightened and reached for the bag. “Maybe I did see her. There was a stranger out here, looking around like she was confused.”

“Then what?”

“Someone must’ve called her from across the street because she turned and then headed that way. That’s all I know. Honest. I live on the second floor and that tree kept me from seeing anything else.”

She indicated a mature, leafy maple. Undoubtedly she was telling the truth.

“Have you ever seen a Hispanic kid with tattoo sleeves? You know, both arms tattooed from the wrists to the shoulders. He hangs around with a guy in his twenties—caramel skin, flat eyes.”

Now the woman appeared alarmed. “You think they did it?”

“You know where they live?” I countered.

“Across the street.”

“Which building?”

“Directly across from the side yard. There’s an apartment over the garage in back…I think a couple other guys live with them too. Can I go now?”

I nodded and, while walking back to my car, got on my radio and called dispatch. I meant to wait for backup to arrive. Really I did. But I kept my eyes on the building and when I saw movement in the gangway, I went on immediate alert.

A man emerged from between the buildings. Tattoo Boy. Not wearing his gangster clothes today, he headed for a familiar dark sedan parked at the curb.

“C’mon, c’mon,” I muttered.

I looked down the street but saw no boys in blue. I could either apprehend the guy now or let him get away.

A no-brainer as far as I was concerned.

Quickly crossing the street, I remained silent as I drew closer. Tattoo Boy didn’t even notice me until he had unlocked the car. Then his eyes widened and any doubt that I might have about who he was vanished.

Stopping him from opening the door, I said, “Police…but you already know that. Hands up and assume the position.”

Cursing under his breath, he raised his hands and turned as though acquiescing.

And then he ran.

Oh, hell!

Unwilling to let another offender get away, I found myself in yet another race. If I kept this up on a daily basis, I’d be in great shape for the next marathon. Not that I’d ever run one before. Or ever intended to.

When he ducked down a sidewalk and into a gangway, I followed, yelling, “Stop!”

“Make me!”

His taunting made pulling my gun tempting. Instead, I did my best to narrow the distance between us. I wanted him cuffed, not dead. Dead wouldn’t give me the information I needed. Besides, he wasn’t threatening me with a weapon, and I didn’t know if he was guilty of anything but robbing the donation buckets, escaping from a police van and resisting arrest. Not exactly capital offenses.

And while I might be able to blast a vital body part, I wasn’t trained to hit a leg to slow him down.

So my gun stayed holstered as I flew after the thief into a backyard…and realized I didn’t see him. I couldn’t have lost him—not that fast. He hadn’t been that far ahead of me. I stood there, panting, my gaze sweeping under the porch, around the flower beds and over to the garage. I was about to continue on into the alley when the hair at the back of my neck gave me warning. I turned just as Tattoo Boy jumped off the open porch on top of me.

When his weight flattened me, the air whooshed out of my lungs. He seemed to be having no such problem as he got back to his feet. Unwilling to let him get away, I grabbed a leg and hung on until I got my breath back. Then I jerked hard and he fell to his side. He used his free leg to kick me in the shoulder.

Okay, that did it. I was tired of playing nice. I was just tired. At last I heard sirens coming down the street.

“Backup,” I informed him. He groaned and dropped back. I let go of his foot and pulled my gun. “Try to run and you’re fucked.”

I always appreciated offenders taking me seriously.

“So how much did this Tony Raymer tell you?” Norelli asked when I caught him up on my collar.

Tony Raymer being Tattoo Boy’s real name.

“Not much,” I admitted. “Snake Eyes recruited him and they were taking orders from some unknown person that only Snake Eyes knew.”

“Does Snake Eyes have a name?”

“James Johnson.”

“James? Really?”

I shrugged. “The others call him Jimmy J.” Snake Eyes sounded so much more dangerous. Maybe the next time we met up I would suggest he change his street handle. “Tattoo Boy’s street name is Tats.”

“Did Raymer give up anything else?” Norelli asked.

“That’s it. Well, he admitted everyone but Snakes Eyes has been holed up in that apartment over the garage for the last couple of weeks. Apparently Snake Eyes—Jimmy J if you prefer—has been coming and going, so he must have his own address. As we speak, a team is going over the apartment for fingerprints and evidence. If we can match the fingerprints to the ones we took off the car…”

“Nothing else?”

“Before I could do the interrogation tango with him, Raymer asked for his lawyer. So probably we’re done.”

“Yeah, when they lawyer up, you might as well spend your time productively.”

“Unless we cut him a deal.”

Norelli nodded. “After he’s had time to squirm in that cell for a while.”

“At least he’s young and doesn’t seem so tough. Not like Snake Eyes,” I said. “We have a good chance that he’ll break.”

“Now we just gotta hope he’s got information worth buying.”

“Like the name of whoever hired them, which he claims not to know.”

“Or where or when they were supposed to strike next.”

Or why they’d chased me down that dead-end street. Had they been trying to kill me or just scare me off? I’d asked and that’s when Raymer had decided to lawyer up.

“Hey, what’s with your shoulder?”

Norelli calling attention to my shoulder made me realize I’d been rubbing it. Straightening, I winced when I caused myself double the pain.

“Bastard kicked me good,” I muttered.

“Did you have it looked at?”

“Nah.”

“Go do it.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him.

“Show me. Pull your shoulders back.”

I did with a soft, “Oof.”

“Now raise the arm.”

Cautiously, I lifted, my expression restrained as I got the limb halfway up.

“Get it taken care of, Caldwell. I mean it. Get over to an ER and make sure you don’t have a damn fracture. Then go get a good night’s sleep. I don’t want to see you back here until morning.”

“But the case—”

“Will be worked on without you.” He gave me the look that told me his mind was set. “You’ve been on duty too long. Could be the reason you got yourself hurt. It’ll take a while to get results from that apartment. Consider the case covered for now and don’t come back until noon.”

I wanted to argue, but my body wasn’t the only thing that had taken a beating. I was exhausted and my brain wasn’t fully in gear. A hot shower and a good sleep would do the trick, I told myself.

But if I didn’t get it checked out, Norelli wouldn’t let me alone.

So I headed for an ER. Not the nearest one filled with victims of home abuse, gang activity and other forms of violence, rather one closer to home. I didn’t want to spend all night waiting to see a doctor. So I chose a hospital that would get me in and out fast.

As it happened, a heart attack victim preceded me and then a couple of car accident victims were rushed in on stretchers.

Which convinced me there was simply no way to get through an emergency room without waiting.

My eyes grew heavy, and I tried to blink away sleep. Exhaustion got the better part of me, though, and I felt myself drift. Sebastian’s face filled my mind.

“If you want me, I’m available. Anytime. Just say the word…”

I forced my eyes open.

“No, you don’t,” I threatened. “You’re not welcome here.”

“What do you mean, not here?” an elderly voice squawked. “This is a hospital, ain’t it? An emergency room. They can’t kick me out!”

Blinking away my confusion, I realized I sat across from an old woman dressed in layers of tattered clothing, a black plastic garbage bag at her feet. No doubt homeless, she might have come inside for a safe place for the night.

“They can’t kick me out!” she told me again.

“No, of course not,” I soothed, knowing the security guard was staring. If she didn’t calm down, and if she wasn’t hurt or ill, he would put her out the door. “My mistake.”

Thankfully, that seemed to pacify her.

The encounter pumped enough adrenaline into my system to keep me awake until a doctor could see me. All the while I wondered how Sebastian—a stranger—could have such an effect on me. I couldn’t stop thinking about his possible involvement in the murder case. Wondering whether or not he was Snake Eyes’ contact. Whether he’d sent the thieves after me. To scare me off?

Or to kill me?

“The doctor will see you now,” a nurse informed me.

Inside a curtained alcove, I played twenty questions with the doc. She rotated my shoulder until I groaned, after which she ordered an x-ray. Only two more hours and I was a free woman, shoulder still sore but definitely not broken. After asking me if I needed a prescription for pain—no! I needed a clear head so I could work—she gave me some home remedy tips.

Great.

All that time spent for advice I could have given myself.

I headed for home thinking that if I was lucky I might be asleep by dawn. At an all-night drugstore, I bought some smelly stuff to rub on my shoulder plus over-the-counter pain killers. I downed a couple when I got back to the car, and was really slowing down by the time I arrived at my building and had to walk the stairs. The moment I got in my door, Sarge and Cadet swirled around my feet.

No Jake tonight.

I was mostly disappointed.

“Hey, guys, sorry I haven’t been around.” I stooped to pet both cats and scratch behind their ears before going into the kitchen to open a can of food. “You guys eat, I’ll take a shower, then we can all curl up together.”

I staggered toward the bathroom, removing clothing as I went. My body was a wreck-in-progress and the needles of hot water hitting all my sore places and even the places that were simply exhausted made me moan in ecstasy.

Almost better than sex.

I paid special attention to my shoulder. Thankfully I was able to move it more freely.

After shutting down the water, I rubbed some of the smelly stuff on my shoulder. Instant heat. Then I wrapped a bath sheet around me and could only think of one thing.

Bed.

The cats were waiting for me, Sarge on a pillow and Cadet at the foot. I climbed on top and with a sigh, dived into the bedding, which felt absolutely luxurious. I was barely aware of the cats purring as I closed my eyes.

“Ah, there you are.”

Sebastian’s voice. I blink my eyes open and stare into his amused expression.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. My heart immediately thuds in reaction.

“I’ve come to do your bidding.”

“I didn’t bid you to do anything.” I keep my voice far calmer than my body. “I simply want to sleep.”

He reaches out and tugs at my bath sheet, and to my astonishment, I don’t try to stop him. It’s like I’m outside of myself looking in…like I’m watching an X-rated movie starring Sebastian and me.

I feel his dark eyes on me like seductive fingers. The flesh between my thighs quivers.

He reaches out and with one fingertip, circles a nipple, the pad barely meeting my flesh.

“You are stunning,” he murmurs, his gaze connecting with the breast he is touching.

My nipples lengthen in response. I hate this.

“Tell me what you want.”

I want Jake, not Sebastian. “For you to leave me alone.”

He moves closer and I feel his breath on my face. “Say that like you mean it and I will.”

His head dips to my breast and his mouth surrounds me, suckles me. I feel the pull all the way to my toes, but mostly in my center. I can’t help myself. My thighs loosen and I feel the damp, hot flesh there reaching toward him, wanting his touch.

“Shelley, it’s been too long.”

My senses stirred, I opened my eyes to find Jake’s face inches from mine, making me start.

“Jake!”

“You sound surprised. Expecting someone else?”

My heart pounded. “Of course not.”

I flushed with the lie. I’d half expected to see Sebastian in my bed, but was relieved it was Jake instead.

Suddenly realizing he wasn’t wearing any clothes, I said, “You’re naked.”

“I just followed your lead.”

The bath sheet had fallen away from my body. He was stroking me, using the pad of a single fingertip to make my nipple stand alert.

Just as Sebastian had done.

My chest squeezed and I tried to move away, to roll away from him, to get up, but Jake held me trapped in place with his leg over my thighs.

“I need you,” he whispered, his fingers trailing a path down to my stomach and lower.

He loosened his leg and my thighs spread without my permission, as though my body was independent of my mind. I never could resist him when his mind was set.

“I’ll keep it short tonight,” he promised. “For you.”

I started to panic.

I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t dream about one man and then make love to another.

But my sex-deprived body told me I could. When Jake’s mouth followed his fingers, I arched into him and let him taste me. I needed him—
him!
—as much as he needed me.

“You’re ready for me,” he murmured. “Something has you hot and sweet and juicy. Were you dreaming of me?”

“Dreaming…oh…”

I tugged at his hair. Tried to stop him again. One last desperate attempt.

His mouth was on me, his fingers in me. All I could do effectively was moan, which urged him on. His thumb rubbed my clit as he moved up over me. He let his fingers slide slowly out of me and the pressure inside eased. The relief was short-lived. Within seconds, he filled me again, longer, thicker, harder.

Rolling, he brought me on top, then watched as I rode him, as I tried to bring him with me when I peaked. It didn’t happen, of course. It never did the first time. Or rarely by the fifth. I tried everything to make him lose control, but he merely smiled as I took my pleasure.

Once.

Twice.

“Three times’s my limit,” I murmured. “I really, really need some sleep. You have to come this time.”

“My pleasure.”

Tonight, three times was the charm. Jake let himself go and found nirvana with me.

Afterward, he held me close.

I pushed away the guilt that nagged at me.

And when I dreamed, I dreamed only of him.