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Authors: Maya Banks,Karin Tabke,Sylvia Day

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BOOK: Men Out of Uniform: Three Novellas of Erotic Surrender
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Could something have happened to Truitt and Rick? But surely no one would know to say anything to her. Unless maybe they’d mentioned her in some way?
She shook her head. It did no good to speculate. All she had to do was wait and then she’d be able to go home.
She sat for what seemed like forever. It was silent and empty. She could walk out, surely. They couldn’t hold her here. The door was wide open. Was it a test?
She shook her head for a second time. She was losing her mind and she was paranoid.
Finally two men entered the room. One was an older man with graying hair, dark bushy eyebrows, and wrinkles around his piercing eyes. He carried himself with authority, but it wasn’t him who took a seat in front of her. He stood off to the side, arms crossed as he stared her down.
Discomfited by his regard, she turned her attention to the man in front of her. Then she swallowed because he looked like he could squash her like a bug.
“Miss Callahan. I’m Detective Phillips. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Okay,” she breathed out. “What about? Is something wrong? Did something happen to Truitt and Rick?”
Detective Phillips’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll ask the questions here. Earlier this morning, Merriam Powell was found murdered in her office at Powell’s Pub.”
Jessie’s mouth dropped open. She slapped her palms on the table and shot to her feet. “That’s not possible! She was alive. I saw her. I talked to her. And I locked up after I left.”
The detective’s eye flickered and he glanced over at the older man who still stood to the side.
“So you admit to being at the pub this morning.”
Jessie frowned and eased back down into her chair. “Of course I do. I went to see her about my job. We talked maybe ten minutes and then I left.”
“And what time was this?”
She put a hand to her head and rubbed. “Five I think? It was close to five. I woke early and knew she’d leave by six and I needed to catch her.”
“Were you angry? Did you argue?”
“No. Not at all. I fully intended to argue my case. You see, the night before she accused me of stealing money from the register but it was complete crap because I never touch the register. She fired me and at first I was going to let it go, but I can’t afford to lose any days. So I went to her office to tell her that it was bullshit and that I needed my job. But when I got there she told me she knew I hadn’t taken the money and that she knew by closing time the night before but she was peeved because I left early, even though she fired me!”
She broke off long enough to take a breath.
“Continue,” the detective prompted.
“So she said that we were going to be shorthanded. I assume she fired whoever it was she decided was stealing from her. I don’t know, but she said if I wanted my job back, I had to go in tonight to work.”
“I see.”
Again he glanced to the older man and Jessie looked rapidly between them both as realization dawned. Okay so she was slow but it was suddenly crystal clear why she’d been brought in for “questioning.”
“You think I did it,” she whispered.
The detective leaned forward. “Well, let me tell you how it’s been explained to us by eyewitnesses. Ms. Powell calls you into her office. Fires you for stealing money. You get into an argument. You threaten her. A few minutes later, you leave with two police officers. Go home with them. Have a little fun. Then you sneak out when they’re asleep, go back to the pub, get into another argument with Ms. Powell and when she won’t give you back your job, you kill her. Then you go back to Truitt Cavanaugh’s house, slip in while they’re still sleeping, cook some breakfast, pretend nothing’s wrong, tell them you have to be in to work and then you bolt as soon as they leave. Am I getting it right so far?”
The blood drained from Jessie’s face. She was so numb and freaked out that she honest to God couldn’t even open her mouth. Was this what they thought? Was it what Truitt and Rick thought? They had to have already told this detective everything or else how would he know?
“Are you suggesting I used them so I could murder someone?” she croaked out.
The idea sounded so outlandish that all she could do was sit there and stare dumbly as the detective coldly judged her.
“What I think is that it’s pretty damn convenient that you suddenly take Rick and Truitt up on their proposition when you put them off for weeks. And on a night when you were fired from your job and threatened your former employer. She turns up dead the very next morning and you were present at the crime scene. In fact, it would appear that you were the last person to see her alive. Now you tell me. How does that look?”
She bolted to her feet again. “I don’t give a damn how it looks. I didn’t do it. She gave me back my job! She obviously fired someone else. Why don’t you question the other employees?”
“Oh, we’ll question them. We’ve already questioned several. It’s not looking good for you, Miss Callahan. Why don’t you make things easier for all of us and tell us what really happened. Maybe you did go to try and talk her around. Maybe you got upset when she refused. The DA might consider the lesser charge of manslaughter if you tell us exactly what happened.”
Tears of rage swam in her eyes and it pissed her off that these jackasses would see her cry. Her fingers curled into tight balls and it was all she could do not to punch the condescending jerk right in the face.
“I didn’t do anything,” she bit out. “And unless you’re arresting me, I’m out of here. Don’t come near me again without a warrant.”
“You’ll make this a lot easier on yourself if you cooperate now.”
For the first time the older man spoke and Jessie turned her ire on him.
“Fuck off. I’m out of here.”
She stomped toward the door and nearly ran smack into Truitt and Rick, who were standing just outside in the hall. She took a hasty step back as relief made her wilt.
“Thank God you’re here,” she whispered. “Tell them I didn’t do this. Make them understand.”
“I can’t do that, Jessie,” Rick said in a formal sounding voice.
Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she looked between the two men. Rick looked ... stoic. Truitt looked raw, angry, and confused. Yeah, well, join the club.
Realization hit her with the force of a cement block. They thought she’d done it too. They were staring at her like she’d somehow betrayed them. Like she’d used them.
Disappointment was so keen that it nearly buckled her knees. Then she steeled herself because she wouldn’t let them know how much it hurt for them to look through her the way they were doing.
“I didn’t do it,” she said quietly. “Please believe me.”
Something flickered in Rick ’s eyes. He hesitated and looked ... torn. Did he want to believe her? She couldn’t tell. He was so hard to read. She wanted to see doubt in his eyes, and maybe it was there, but how could she know it wasn’t just wishful thinking?
“Why were you gone so long, Jessie?” Truitt asked. “You said you were at the pub no longer than ten minutes. The timeline doesn’t add up. Give us something to work with here. Tell us what happened so we can help you.”
She stared at them, growing more numb by the minute. “I was at the store buying stuff to make you breakfast.”
No longer able to stand their scrutiny, or the idea that they entertained that she could do this, even for a moment, she turned sideways to brush between them and walked down the hall, slowly at first but with growing speed. She heard one of them call her name, but she refused to turn around. They’d see how utterly devastated she was.
She burst out of the doors and took off down the street, no clear direction in mind, only that she wasn’t spending another minute in such a hostile environment. God, they all thought she’d
killed
another person in cold blood. They were crazy but the frightening part was just how serious they were and it scared her to death.
Whatever happened to how sweet they thought she was? And how nice and cute and beautiful. Blah, blah, blah. It made her head hurt to know just how stupid she felt right now.
Three blocks from the police station, she dug out her cell phone and sank onto the sidewalk, drawing her knees to her chest as she clumsily punched in the phone number.
“Please, please be there,” she whispered.
“Hello?”
“Kirsten, thank God. It’s Jessie.”
“Jessie? Hon, are you okay? You sound like you’re crying. What’s going on?”
Jessie wiped angrily at the tear trickling down her cheek and tried to work the knot out of her throat.
“I need you to come get me,” she said in a shaky voice.
Chapter 7
 
W
ant me to go kick them all in the balls?” Kirsten asked with a scowl.
Jessie closed her eyes, cupped her hands around the warm mug of coffee, and inhaled the aroma. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the shaking. Her arms shook, her hands shook, even her teeth kept clanking together to make the most annoying sound.
She opened her eyes when Kirsten gently took the coffee from her and set it on the table in front of the couch.
“You’re going to spill that all over you, hon. You’re still shaking like a leaf.”
“Thanks for coming,” Jessie said because she didn’t know what else to say. She was so grateful that Kirsten had come immediately and had brought her back to her apartment. The idea of going back to her place alone knotted her stomach.
“Stop thanking me. What are friends for?”
Jessie’s eyes went watery again. “You’re the best friend I could ask for. You’ve had my back since sixth grade.”
“Damn straight. And you’ve had mine.”
Kirsten was a beautiful woman and she had a warm smile that just drew people to her. She was only slightly taller than Jessie but thinner by far. She was lanky, had a jean size that made Jessie green with envy, and she moved with a grace that made people stop and watch her go by.
She had long, straight auburn hair that in the sunlight reflected about six different shades. And she had the bluest eyes, light and clear. Mesmerizing to look at.
“You didn’t answer my question. Should I go down there and kick their asses?”
Jessie smiled. Or tried to. “No. I’m the dumbass in this. I never should have gone home with Rick and Truitt. I was upset over Merriam firing me. I wasn’t thinking straight. I hurt my knee and they were offering ... comfort.”
Kirsten snorted. “That wasn’t all they were offering.”
“True,” Jessie acknowledged. “But of all nights to have given in. They not only think I murdered a woman but they think I’m some tramp who lured two detectives into her bed so I could sneak out to do my evil deed.”
“Sounds like something out of a B movie.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Jessie muttered. She covered her face with her hands. “God, I don’t know what I’m going to do. They totally think I did it. They supposedly have witnesses. What am I going to do, Kirsten? I can’t afford a lawyer. I can’t afford to be without a job, but who’s going to hire me now with this hanging over my head?”
Kirsten reached over and squeezed her hand. “You didn’t do it. Of course you didn’t do it. You couldn’t hurt a fly, Jessie. Try not to freak out yet. They haven’t arrested you. They still have to build their case. They’ll find who really killed Merriam. If worse comes to worst, I can call my dad. You know he loves you like a daughter and he’d be more than glad to help.”
Jessie lost the battle to hold her tears back and she threw her arms around her friend. “I love you,” she said fiercely. “I’ll never forget that you were there with me when I was in the hospital, and when I was struggling so hard just to walk again.”
Kirsten hugged her back and kissed her cheek. “And you were there for me when I absolutely needed you most, when I thought my entire world was going to end. You made me want to keep living.”
Kirsten leaned back and stroked her hand over Jessie’s bedraggled hair. “You need some rest, hon. I know it’s hard to sleep when you’re so scared and upset. Let me give you one of my sleeping pills. It won’t hurt you to take something to help you sleep.”
Jessie nodded, her eyes closed wearily. She was exhausted. Right now she’d do just about anything for a few hours of oblivion.
BOOK: Men Out of Uniform: Three Novellas of Erotic Surrender
9.96Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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