SEIZED Part 1: New Adult Romantic Suspense (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series) (16 page)

I hold the purse in my hand for a second as I try to process what she’s saying.

“So, you withheld evidence because you forgot?” It’s ludicrous that she thinks I’m going to believe her. “How exactly did you forget you were wearing a handbag?”

“I swear, I only just found it now. Her phone is in there, Blake.”

I open the purse and see the small cellphone. There’s also some lipstick, and a crumpled receipt, some gum, and a tampon.

“How did you find it?” I spread the items out on top of the sheets and take a closer look, her deception forgotten for a moment.

“The battery was beeping. I was trying to sleep, but the battery kept beeping. I thought it was coming from your room, but it was wrapped up inside the stuff I was wearing.”

I put my hand on her hand. “This is April’s life, Carrie, now is the time for truth.”

“Blake, I’m not lying. I swear. There’s the phone, and those are the numbers that came through while April and I were out. There are six missed calls! Plus, someone sent April a picture of us dancing at the club.”

I pick up the phone, but the battery is dead as fuck. “It didn’t occur to you to come and get me?”

She shakes her head. “I thought I was being dramatic. It’s probably just some guy.”

I hear my voice get louder. “If someone was calling her and sending photos on the night she was taken, then that’s not dramatic, that’s evidence. Fuck, Carrie!” The anger explodes from me then, and I can see her shrink backward against the pillows. “What were you thinking?”

Her eyes go wide, and I’m glad, because I want her to know how serious this is.

“You’re impeding a police investigation, and you may well have just signed April’s death certificate.” She’s crying now, but I’m still angry. “Get your shit together, get dressed, and meet me in the living room. You’re going to tell me everything you know right now.”

I know I’m being harsh, but that’s too many coincidences in one day for this to be anything but some press bullshit. I thought I finally had the truth, but Carrie is trying to fuck with me in more ways than one.

When she joins me, her face is pale but at least she’s stopped crying. Piece by piece, she explains her deductions about the phone calls, and shares that the numbers who were calling April are the ones she managed to write down before the battery died.

“So, that was who you were really calling?”

“Yes,” she says, and starts wringing her hands. “I wanted to make sure it was actually a break in the case before I told you about it, so I called the number. I figured it was going to be a study buddy or her boss or someone. I can’t think of anyone else she’s avoiding.”

“Carrie, did they answer the phone?” This is crucial. My number is blocked like every other officer in the force, but they could have pinpointed an area, and they might already be coming for her.

“No, they didn’t pick up,” she answers, sobbing again. Now I see she’s realizing the damage she’s caused.

We talk about the photo, and how she’s sure it was what made April wanted to leave the club, and then we talk about April’s reliability with checking her phone and answering calls. Carrie’s assumptions are correct. This is something big—calls to the cell phone of the victim, and a threatening photograph on the same night of the kidnapping.

I could kick myself for not asking the female officer to search Carrie when she was first processed. We like to be gentle with victims of abuse, but I could have had a two day head start. I’ve no idea where the fuck April is now. She could be long gone, and that’s undeniably on Carrie’s shoulders.

“If there’s anything else you know, please, please, for April’s sake, tell me now.”

She’s shaking her head, but I can’t tell if she’s being honest or not. Whatever the case, George will be up soon, and I know he’ll be asking a million questions if he finds a crying girl sitting in the living room.

“Coffee?”

It may only be one word, but it seems to cheer her up. I head into the kitchen to start foraging for breakfast. Then I see there’s still some yogurt left in the fridge. While Carrie sits with her back to me, no doubt sulking, I prepare her a bowl of fruit and yogurt. I sprinkle a little coconut on top to make it extra tasty, and I make myself something similar. She’s obviously racked with guilt, and she should be, but there’s no use flogging a dead horse, so I decide to say nothing more on the subject.

When breakfast is ready, I carry it over on a tray with the coffee, which I place gently in front of her.
How’s that for morning after service, not to mention witness coercion?

Despite the fact that I have no idea if she’s telling the truth, or if anything is going to ever be okay with April again, I put my hand on her shoulder. “Try not to worry. It’s going to be all right.”

Carrie looks gratefully up at me, and I can see how badly she needs my compassion.

We sit together and chat as the house begins to come alive behind us. I hear a toilet flush, and the patter of little feet making their way into Brenda’s room. As each minute passes, I can tell she’s calming down, and even though I’m angry, I’m also aware that it wasn’t long ago that she was in my arms. This is why we never get involved with witnesses. It’s a grey area. My judgment is clearly impaired by my attraction to her. I need to get it under control, but just being in her presence is hard. Such a sultry little face, her lips just begging to be kissed. I can hear the sound of Brenda getting up, so I usher Carrie upstairs. Her eyes are still swollen, and I don’t want to have to lie. The newspaper has been delivered, so I pick it up from its spot by the front door, and then scoot upstairs behind her.

She tucks her feet up underneath her on the couch, and once I know she’s settled, and away from any small boys with big questions, I head for the shower.

“Newspaper for you,” I say on my way past the couch. “I know all you reporters like to keep up with things.”

Her gaze flicks quickly to my eyes, assessing my tone, but I just smile absently and make my way into the bathroom. The shower will help me, it always does. I look at myself in the mirror. There’s no trace of our lovemaking from the night before, but I feel different.

I need a shave and a shower, but most of all I need to get away from Carrie. Just her being here is giving me a hard-on. The woman bewitched me back then, and she’s doing it again now. Enough so that I missed a vital piece of evidence and totally lost my shit at her. I turn the shower on, and try to push all thoughts of her soft skin away from my mind. There’s something I’m still missing about the club. Something that doesn’t make sense, but I just can’t put my finger on it right now.

I know it will come if I just get out of here. If I can just get some space to think, this will all start to come together. I dry off and listen for a second through the door. I can’t hear Carrie talking, but I can’t take any chances that she’s not out there trying the number again. That’s why I’ve got the battery in here. Who knows what’s going on in her head?

Steam billows in the hall as I make my way to my room, but she’s still reading the paper and April’s purse remains untouched in my work bag. I dress and make plans for the day. They’ll be surprised to see me at this time of day, but I need to get this phone in to the techs for analysis as soon as possible. I stop by the couch on the way out. It feels unnatural not to kiss her, but that part of our connection has to be over.

“I’m off now. Not sure what time I’ll be back. Talk to Brenda if you need anything.”

My tone isn’t meant to punish her, but I don’t want to give her hope, either. Last night might have been incredible, but it was bad in so many ways. She doesn’t show it if she’s upset, so I jog downstairs, say good morning to George, put our bowls in the dishwasher, and head out the door.

The squad car calms me. Finally the scent of her starts to leave my nostrils and it’s like the jangling begins to stop. I turn on some music and quietly begin to rethink things from the start. The traffic is bad, so I have time. There’s a bum just waking up on one of the street corners. Commuters are mercilessly passing him by but he’s not making any real efforts to beg. It looks like he’s still drunk, brown paper bag in hand, and I’m reminded again to call my sponsor. One thing at a time. Multi-tasking with Carrie as an old friend and a detective already got me in trouble once this week. One role at a time is about all I can take on with Carrie James.

There’s an accident blocking 39
^th
Street, so I have to take another route, one which has me rolling right by Caliber. The roller door is half pulled down. At this time of the morning, it’s obviously shut, but then I see the number plate of Jessup Lee’s Mercedes peeping out from underneath the parking bay.

Stickemup
—It’s supposed to be a reference to the name of one his restaurants, but the whole force knows he’s just taking a chance to mock us. Mr. Clean and Green is hiding an avalanche of secrets under that exterior image. Plus, it’s so rare to see him in the city, I know I need to investigate. After all, his club is part of an ongoing investigation.

There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to casually drop in to view the premises on a Monday morning. I pull in to the narrow side street that intersects his property with the next building. The car only just fits, but there’s no way I’m blocking the sidewalk or giving him any warning that I’m on my way. Who knows what’s brought him here. This is not an opportunity to be missed.

I lock the door of the sedan and decide to have a look around the back of the club before I go in. The alleyway is empty and even the graffiti on the wall has been painted over. Jessup must have the staff do that every week, and I wonder why he cares. No other landlords would bother to spend the money on paint that taggers will just mess up again, especially on a wall that’s not exposed to the street. It’s strange, but hardly illegal, so I wander back farther, and nothing looks out of place. The bins are full of bottles from the weekend, and there are some beer crates upended near an ashtray. This is obviously where the bartenders take their smoke breaks, so there’s nothing to investigate there.

I’m hardly making leeway, so I decide to head back around the front. The building has been neatly maintained. His staff must be trained well, but then I realize the real reason for the pristine order. Cameras are mounted on every corner of the building. They focus on the perimeters and obviously capture every movement the staff makes. What a shitty smoke break for the bar staff. They’d never be able to relax knowing they were being watched like this. The back door is where most of the fun I supposed to happen in hospitality.

Making my way around the corner, I’m half expecting Jessup’s car to be gone. He would have clocked the presence of a police vehicle on the premises long before I noticed those cameras. Regardless, my car hasn’t been tampered with, the alley is still empty, and the Mercedes is still nestled quietly under the roller door.

Fuck it, if he’s already seen me, I might as well mosey on in
. I laugh to myself, thinking I’m just visiting old friends. It honestly feels that way with the amount I know about Jessup. He’s been my biggest obsession since I put the booze down, and I’ve studied every aspect of his life. A little unfair, as I don’t even think he knows my name. I never thought today would be the day I’d meet the scumbag who’s hurt so many innocents.

I slip under the roller door and into the parking bay to the right of the club’s front entrance. One wall is covered in posters while the other holds shelving full of various items. This must be where they deliver the liquor, and that makes me wonder what else is being dropped off here. I hitch my pants up and swing onto the platform. The side door to the club is open. This will either lead to the stock room, or the back of the bar. I know nightclubs from my time behind the bars of holes just like these.

Inside the door, a pin board is littered with delivery schedules and staff rosters. It takes up most of the wall in the hallway. The place is dark, but that’s not unusual. Whoever is here with Jessup must be doing inventory, and that’s a quiet fucking affair. If I’m gonna get anywhere, I need to find the office. That’s where Jessup will be. A crash breaks the silence, and in a second my weapon is drawn. I recognize that sound. Someone has dropped a tray of glassware inside the club. The big plastic racks get stacked with stems before they go through the sterilizer, and there’s no sound quite like it.

I creep closer to the door. An argument is happening. It’s two men. I can’t hear the words, but I can tell one of them is trying to defend himself. I slip inside and find myself crouching in the wash section of Caliber’s bar. The bar itself must be fifty feet long, and the voices are coming from the far end. No one is any wiser to my presence. This is not what I expected to find at all.

The stench of years of spilled liquor and old lemons permeates my brain, and the soles of my shoes stick to the floor as I make my way down. I need to hear what’s being said. It may not be connected to April, but why else would Jessup be here ripping someone a new asshole on a Monday morning?

I finally make it to the end of the bar, and squat in the circle where the flair bartenders toss bottles to show off to the ladies. Racks of bottles are stored right in front of my face, but that’s not what’s on my mind as one of the men gives the other a mighty kick, and I hear him start to retch.

“Well, where the fuck are they?” The guy he’s talking to is close to sniveling, and obviously on the floor as he begs and swears he doesn’t know.

I ask myself if I should do something. Shit, I didn’t even radio in my location. This was supposed to be a quiet visit, and nobody knows I’m here. Even Carrie thinks I’m on my way to 43
^rd
Street with April’s phone. If I do say something to help this poor fucking guy, then my whole case could be jeopardized. Unauthorized entry into Caliber, for starters. But, I figure if the guy on the floor still knows something, then he’s got to be relatively safe from extinction. Then he receives another kick, and I hear the crunch of a boot into soft skin.