Only Witness, The (9 page)

              She walked over to the back door, fished in her purse for the keys. It was like a law that there was no finding anything in a purse, no matter the size, in under thirty seconds. The keys jingled against one another as her fingers finally closed around them. It was the sound that made Vera realize just how quiet it was outside.

              It was never this quiet. There were usually cars, and if not cars, people and animals. A cold finger of fear moved up Vera's spine. She felt eyes on her but saw no one. There was a glint of something in the trees at the edge of the lot; she focused on the spot even as she tried to slide the key into the lock. Whatever she'd seen, it wasn't there any longer. Great, she was officially seeing things. It was probably lack of sleep. Christ, she was tired.

              Finally Vera gave up on trying to get the key into the lock blind. She glanced over and sighed with relief as she turned the deadbolt. Something made her look back towards the trees, but still there was nothing there.

              “Making yourself crazy Vera, great job.” Fuck! She was just making herself worry, borrowing trouble where there was none.

              So what, it was a quiet night? Big deal. Vera pushed the door open and stepped inside; it would have been a graceful entrance if she hadn't lost her footing when she stepped on the glossy flier on the floor. She went down on her ass hard, but was glad to be seated when she realized she'd slipped on a missing persons announcement.

              Had she seen Grant Caldwell? Yes, she had. She'd seen him get shot in the head in the middle of her back lot the night before she slept with the man who’d pulled the trigger. “Fuck my life!” Vera began to laugh after she said it. What she really needed was some sleep. Hopefully, after a glass of wine, insomnia wouldn't be an issue.

              Vera was blissfully unaware that she was being watched as she made it to her feet and shut the door.

<#<#>#>#>#

              There wasn't enough coffee or energy drinks in the world to make Vera open on time Friday morning, and quite honestly she just didn't give a shit. The night before had been rough; after she'd made sure all the windows and doors were locked, she'd sat and stared at the missing person flier as if it held the answers to all life's questions and she just couldn't figure it out.

              She'd decided a drink or two might ease her nerves and ended up finishing off nearly a half a bottle of tequila, which she'd sworn off drinking years ago. Now she remembered why. Her entire body hurt, her hair hurt and there was a mysterious bruise starting on her arm.

              A loud banging at the front door drew her attention, eyes half open and dressed in her robe, Vera took the stairs as fast as she could. Whoever was dumb enough to bang on her door like that was going to get a big piece of her mind.

              Through the glass door she saw Deacon Hawke on the other side. When he spotted her he began to bang harder. “Jesus Christ!” Vera turned off the alarm and yanked the door open. “I see you and more than that, I heard you.”

              “What kind of business are you running if you're never open?” He stepped forward so that Vera had no choice but to let him in.

              “My business,” she replied with a growl, “and I don't need or want to hear your opinion on it, not now and not ever. Got it? Now, I'm assuming that you're here about the necklace.”

              “You have it?”

              “Not exactly,” Vera turned her eyes away from him because she didn't want to stare. Actually she did want to stare; his hair was out and wild. He wore a black tee shirt under his cut and dark blue jeans. Deacon wore all three things very well, not to mention that whatever cologne he was wearing smelled good enough to make her want to move forward and bite him. It was pathetic how clearly she could imagine biting him, imagine climbing him like a tree, and how badly she wanted to do it made heat rise to her cheeks.

              “What does that mean?” He was definitely annoyed, right on the border of out and out pissed, if she wasn't mistaken.

              “It means I searched high and low, couldn't find one emerald that I could see Adelaide in. There were some nice ones. She would have told you it was beautiful and then never worn it.” Vera replied as she braced herself for his reaction.

              “So I paid you a thousand dollars for nothing?”

              “I didn't say that. I found something I think she'll like. It's just not an emerald. Let me show it to you.”

              “I asked you for an emerald,” he stepped forward, eyes dark. “What part of that didn't you understand?” He took another step, and all Vera could do was take one back. He was way in her personal space.

              Vera's back hit the wall. Fear rose up inside her. “I understood all parts of it.” Vera tried to edge to the side and get out from between him and the wall, but Deacon took a step forward. She sucked in a deep breath. “Most of all I understood that you wanted her to have something she'd love. She'll love what I found if you'll just take...”

              Deacon made a sound that was more a growl than anything else. “I don't give a fuck what you found. I want my money back, right now. Every penny including what I overpaid for that piece of shit chair.”

“Piece of shit?” Vera refused to show how intimidated she was by him. “You agreed to that price, in case you've forgotten. I'll happily refund your money for the gift but not for the chair. No fucking way.”

“All of it. Just because we fucked doesn't mean that you get to mouth off to me.”

“Just because we fucked doesn't mean that you can be an asshole to me.” Vera wished that she hadn't spoken when his eyes darkened dangerously. “If you'd stop being stubborn you could see that the gift I found will thrill her.”

“Look, I want what I asked for.”

“And let me guess, you always get what you want?” Vera replied, unable to not roll her eyes. Deacon Hawke was a cocky asshole—a hot one, but still cocky, with a definite sense of entitlement.

“That's the way that it works, Sweetheart,” he moved his face closer to hers. Close enough that Vera was aware he could probably smell the tequila still coming out of her pores. “I want my money. I'm done fucking around.”

              “Fine, you want to not fuck around? I'll give you your money back and you give me back everything that I've paid for protection, because I'm not feeling very protected between you being a fucking bully and the creeper hanging outside my house last night.”

              “There was someone outside last night?”

Vera brought her hands up in the space between them. “It scared me. You're scaring me right now.” Gently she put her hands to his chest to create more distance between them. “Please.”

              Deacon stepped back, held his hands up. “Did you call for someone to come check it out? Someone should have been in the area.”

              “No,” Vera admitted, because that thought hadn't occurred to her until after she'd broken out the tequila. When she had considered calling, it wasn't the number that she had for emergencies, it was the personal number that Deke had given her. In the end the only reason she hadn't dialed was the missing person flier sitting on her counter.

              “You should have called,” he told her. “Next time make sure you do.”

              “Honestly, I don't think that I will.” Vera told him. “Now, if you'd like to see the necklace I'll be happy to show it to you. If you like it, it's considerably less than the thousand you paid me so I'll refund the difference. If not, I'll give you the money back minus the cost of the chair.” She made it through what she had to say without her voice cracking or shaking. Her hands were another story; they trembled so hard she had them tucked in her pockets.

              “Why won't you call?” Deacon spoke in his regular tone now, no more anger or annoyance.

              “For the reasons I just told you. The protection of The Vikings doesn't make me feel safe when their leader is in my face trying to intimidate me. Now, do you want to see the necklace or not? If not, I've got things to do.”

              “Sure, show me.” He took a step back and followed her over to the counter. Vera adjusted the belt on her robe, smoothed the material down as she walked and hoped she hadn't managed to flash him way too much thigh or her ass.

              “What's this?” He lifted one of the fliers from the counter.

              Vera's mouth went dry. So he wanted to play it like he didn't know anything. She could play it like that too. “Grant Caldwell is missing. I found it under my door when I came home last night.” Vera busied herself getting the box of things that she'd purchased from Rose the night before so that she wouldn't have to look at him. Why hadn't she hidden that damn thing?

              “I hadn't heard. Anyone know what happened?”

              Vera placed the box on the counter. “No, I don't know any of the details. Like I said, I just saw it when I came in last night.” She opened the lid, withdrew the pendant and laid it down on the counter. “I've got a chain to match it. I know that Adelaide likes the chain because she's admired it a few times when she's been in.”

              “It's perfect,” he admitted. For a moment he just looked down at the pendant. Finally he cleared his throat. “I came in here like a real asshole, didn't I?”

              “It's not nice of me to call customers assholes to their face,” Vera replied, which was answer enough. “I'll throw in the chain at no charge and I'll get you the rest of the money I owe you.” She jumped as he reached out to wrap his long fingers around her wrist.

              “Easy,” he told her. “I'm not going to hurt you.  I had a really fucked up night last night. Came in here pissed, and it wasn't at you.”

              “But I was an easy target?” Vera shook her head. “No hard feelings, but don't do it again. Just because we fucked doesn't mean I'm your verbal punching bag. It doesn't mean anything. In fact, it was probably a mistake.”

              “A mistake?”

              “We both have to live in this town and you and your guys are a big part of this town and I never wanted the reputation of being some girl who hangs around and... sleeps with you guys.” When nervous Vera's words could come out in a rush and sometimes make no sense; she knew that as well as she knew that she should stop talking, but it was like there was no stopping her mouth. “And I don't want you thinking I'm like that because I like the guys, they've all been great to me but I don't want to sleep with any of them. I should have just stuck to my rule of only sleeping with out of town guys but I... well I don't know what came over me.”

              Deacon didn't bother to hide his smile. “Well, I'm pretty sure that you're safe from people thinking you're one of the girls who hang around us. I'm pretty sure that you've never even been to one of our parties.”

              “I haven't,” Vera managed a small smile, “I guess my name got left off the invite list somehow.”

              “You want to come to a party?”

              “I'm not fishing for an invitation, You're the one that brought up the invitation thing to begin with.” Panic flared inside of her. Was she coming off as that desperate to be included in The Vikings infamous parties? Did she just have a general air of desperation about her? Was that what he thought?

              “Never said that you were fishing for an invite,” he replied. He turned towards the door. “You expecting someone?”

              Before Vera could answer, the door opened, the bell chimed and police chief Will Brothers stepped through the door. He removed his hat, nodded to the two of them. “Morning, hope I'm not catching you at a bad time.”

              Vera looked down at her robe, wanted to pull it tighter around her, but Deacon had her hand. Shit, she could only imagine what Will was thinking. “Of course not, Will. What's up?” She tried to keep her voice casual but was pretty sure it came out sounding high pitched and fake, as if there was something being interrupted.

              “I see that someone dropped you off a flier about Grant. His family is pretty worried, so we're canvassing the area to see if anyone saw or heard anything on Tuesday night, when he was last seen.”

              “I haven't seen Will in a while,” Vera lied smoothly, or at least she hoped it was smoothly, “I did see his sister last week. She was looking for a new lamp.”

              “She mentioned it,” Will made a face that suggested it had been mentioned in detail, but that was Delores Caldwell; she liked to talk. “What about you, Deacon? He was heading over to The Bar, you're there a few nights a week.”

              “Last I saw him was Friday night. He was playing darts.” Deacon replied.

              “Is that right?” Will recorded the information in a small notebook he produced from his pocket. “So you're saying you haven't seen him since Friday night?”

              “That's what I said, Chief.”

              “And where were you Tuesday night?”

              “I was here, Will,” Vera knew that the question wasn't directed at her but answered it anyway.

              “Wasn't talking to you, Vera. Now Deacon, where were you and your guys Tuesday night?” Will was using what Vera liked to think of as his official voice.

              “At the warehouse. Watched some ridiculous action movie with lots of explosions and bare tits.” Deacon replied.

              “And people can verify that? People not wearing Vikings patches on their backs, of course.”

              “Hey,” Vera interjected, pissed now that Will was singling Deacon out. “Isn't the most likely case here that Grant just took off? Last time I did see him he was outside of Rose's, essentially panhandling.”

              “Got a few more questions for you, Deacon,” Will stood his full height and tried to look as official as possible. His chest even puffed out some. “You can come with me now, or we can do this the hard way.”

              “I really don't have time for this shit, Will, told ya I haven't seen Grant since last Friday, and we both know Vera's right. He's probably on a fucking bender somewhere and will show back up when he's dead broke.”