A Dirty Shame (14 page)

“They’re supposedly more violent, but there are no arrests. Nothing more than suspicion at this point. A fairly young organization is what Carver told me. Only a few years old. They don’t have any associated names, but their victims are tortured before death. They leave a letter behind with their crest and the reason that person had been punished. And then you don’t hear anything from them again until the next time. Very cut and dried. Carver said almost professional in their presentation.”

“Do they brand the victim?”

“No,” Jack said.

“Interesting.”

“My thoughts exactly. Somebody didn’t do their homework when they killed Reverend Oglesby. Either that or they wanted to add their own flair.”

I wasn’t quite grasping what Jack was saying, but I could tell he’d come to some conclusion in that sharp brain of his.

“What am I missing?”

“I don’t think Daniel Oglesby has anything to do with this. Not really. He might have seen or overheard something, which is why I need to talk to Vaughn again, but he wasn’t the intended victim. I think George was the one they wanted right from the beginning. So that’s where we’re going to focus. There’s something there. And now with the photo you found in George, I need to know everything there is to know about that garage.”

His frustration was starting to show, and it was easy to see the exhaustion and the weariness in his shoulders.

“You’re doing what you can, Jack. It’ll come together. It’s early yet.”

“We’re going on day three. You and I both know the chances of catching whoever did this decrease every day.”

He went over to his desk where his crime scene bag sat, and dug out a pair of gloves, pulling them on with practiced ease. He slid the photograph I’d found inside George out onto his desk, touching it as little as possible.

“Let’s see if we can clean this up a little,” he said.

I watched in fascination as he booted up the sleek little laptop on his desk and then fed the photograph into a scanner. I could tell you about every organ in the body, but I couldn’t work my way around any kind of technology. I loathed technology. And it didn’t like me much either. I leaned over so I could see what he was doing better, and the photograph showed up on the screen. Jack hit a few buttons and the creases disappeared and the colors became sharper and more in focus.

“You’re pretty handy,” I said as he printed out a new copy and resealed the original in the evidence bag.

“It’s nice of you to finally notice.” He took the new photo and attached it to the board under George’s face.”

“Who inherits the auto shop now that George is dead?” I asked. I stood next to Jack and tried to see something that wasn’t there in the picture of the garage.

“The will is sealed at the moment until your ruling of homicide can be formally filed, and I’ve already got a warrant started so we can look at it before it goes into probate.”

“Who’s that standing behind Jesse Fife and Carlton Fisk?” The face was a little fuzzy, but it was still familiar.

Jack grabbed a magnifying glass and held it over the spot I’d pointed to. “Well, well. If I’m not mistaken, that looks like Mayor Glass. Before he was mayor of course. I can add him to my list of people to talk to tomorrow. You and me, babe. It looks like we’ll both be looking for new jobs if things keep heading in this direction. The mayor is not going to be happy to see me.”

“I’ve always thought it would be nice to live on the beach. It’s always warm.”

“We’ll have to go some time. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in a bikini.”

“Hmm,” I said for lack of anything better.

“There still hasn’t been any sign of Oglesby’s car. There are a lot of places to hide something that size in this area. I’m also no closer to finding the place where they tortured him.”

A thought occurred to me and I said, “You found a red bandana near Oglesby’s body, right?”

“Yeah, and three cigarette butts. They’ve been sent to the lab in Richmond for testing.”

“The mechanics at the garage all carry bandanas in their pockets. I saw Wormy wiping the oil off of his hands on one just this morning.”

He nodded. “I’ll give the lab a call in the morning and see if they can tell me if there’s anything on the bandana that can be found in an auto shop.” He looked at the clock on the fireplace mantel and shook his head. “I mean this morning. It’s already past midnight. We need to get some sleep.”

I dropped back onto the sofa and had to fight to keep my eyes open. I was due for a quick twenty minutes of sleep before I faced another long night of staring out the window, but I didn’t want Jack to know about my sleep problems so I just mumbled out an agreement.

I pulled the throw from the back of the couch and lay down, burrowing into the soft leather beneath me and the warmth of the blanket on top of me. It smelled of Jack, and I nestled deeper into the cushions, letting my eyelids flutter closed.

They popped open again the moment Jack put his arms around me. I jerked against him as he lifted me in his arms and headed to the stairs.

“I can walk it,” I murmured against his neck.

“Indulge me. I don’t get to see you still very often. You’ve sure gotten jumpy, Doctor Graves.”

Arguing took too much effort, so I decided to keep my thoughts to myself. The door to my room was open—the lights off—and he pulled back the covers and laid me gently on the soft sheets.

“G’night, Jack,” I said, curling around my pillow. And when I felt him get into bed beside me and pull close, I drifted off to sleep. And for the first time in months, I didn’t worry about the darkness chasing me.

Watery light filtered through the trees and into the room, and when my eyes opened, the first thing I noticed was Jack, big and solid in the bed next to me, his arms holding me close much like they had the night before. His eyes were open and staring at me intently, and it was then I realized I’d slept through the entire night. Without night terrors or cold sweats. Without memories.

It was one of those lazy Sunday mornings where the storm from the night before had turned into a soft spring shower. We didn’t speak for a long time. There didn’t seem to be a need for words. My brain was clear and my body rested for the first time in as long as I could remember, so when he pulled me closer and his lips touched mine, it was with complete clarity that I made my decision.

This was
the
kiss. The first kiss we’d missed out on the day before in front of my house. All I could think was—soft. His lips were so soft against mine. So right. And it seemed I’d waited so long, even though I hadn’t known what could really be between us until recently.

My fingers clutched at his shoulders, and I pressed closer as he deepened the kiss and his tongue rubbed against mine. And then thoughts of
soft
went out the window. Because there wasn’t anything soft about Jack.

“The sweats are supposed to be sexless,” I panted, my mind half gone with lust.

“It didn’t work,” he said, biting my lower lip. “All I’ve been able to think about is if you’re wearing underwear beneath them. Then all I could think about was getting you out of them so I could find out.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

“Just so you know,” he said, rolling me to my back. “I’m making my move now.” He kissed his way down the side of my neck, his tongue doing something magical that made my eyes cross.

“God, I hope so.”

He laughed and then his hands found their way under my sweatshirt, and my hands tugged at the t-shirt he wore. The laughter stopped. My brain and my body were like two separate entities. Part of me was mortified that Jack was about to see every part of me. That he was about to be as close to me as anyone ever had been, and I wasn’t perfect for him. The other part wanted him with a fierceness that was almost terrifying, and it was screaming at me, asking me why I’d waited so long to claim what was mine.

I pulled his shirt over his head, and goggled at the sight of him. His chest was hard, the muscles defined and taut as I touched him. My fingers traced the scars from the bullets he’d taken a couple of years before, and I was thankful that our pasts had both led us to this present. He worked at the button of his jeans, and it made me feel better to see his hands tremble ever so slightly. I trailed my fingers down his chest until they rested just above his waistband.

“You’re not helping,” he gritted out between his teeth as his stomach muscles jumped beneath my fingers.

And then he got them unbuttoned and my fingers wandered lower until I held the hard heat of him in my hands, touching him so intimately it almost made me dizzy with the years of love and longing we’d wasted.

Somewhere along the way my shirt got tossed across the room, and he stripped off my sweatpants. And then we were both skin to skin, our breaths coming faster and faster and our hearts thumping in perfect accord in our chests.

I’d remember this moment for the rest of my life—the rain pelting the window and the almost watercolor effect of the room cast in hazy morning light. The way Jack pulled the thick down comforter over us, so we were cocooned in our own little world. The way his body touched mine and turned it molten with a need I’d never experienced.

His mouth was a work of art, trailing down to my breasts and taking a turgid nipple into his mouth, suckling gently until my body was rising and falling against him, searching for completion.

“God, Jack. Please.”

His hands dipped between my legs and colors exploded behind my eyelids. And then he shifted and my legs wrapped around his waist, and I felt him, hot and hard, against me—waiting.

“Look at me, Jaye,” he said, his voice strained.

My eyes fluttered open and I fell into the blackness of his eyes—so intense—so full of emotion that the right words would never be enough.

“I love you,” he said.

It was so simple. So right.

His hands grasped mine, and I clung tight as he slid into me, inch by inch, until we were closer than any two people could ever be. Tears came to my eyes and my breath hitched at the feeling of him so full inside of me.

And then he began to move and my hips came up to meet him automatically. We moved together as if we’d been doing it for years, and I broke my hold against his hands to grasp at his back, searching for an anchor in the storm.

“Please—please,” I chanted over and over again, my nails digging into his shoulders.

He rocked high into me, hitting a place inside of me that had me shrieking in ecstasy. And then something powerful exploded, and I screamed out his name, even as he grasped my hips and surged against me faster—faster—until he stiffened in my arms and called my name in return.

We collapsed against each other, and this time I welcomed the darkness as I drifted off into sleep.

***

The rain had stopped by the time I resurfaced, and the sun was a little brighter as it shone through the windows. I hadn’t found the courage to meet Jack’s eyes again after what we’d just done, and part of me was wondering when we’d get to do it again. Our legs were tangled together, and I couldn’t stop touching him, as if I needed to reassure myself that this was real. He hadn’t stopped touching me either.

“So—” I said. “This is different for us.”

His hand slipped down and squeezed my ass, and I snickered against his neck. “Different is good.”

I was feeling very relaxed and a little lazy. “We should probably get up at some point. Duty calls.”

“Yep.” His fingers started to work their magic again, and it wasn’t difficult to notice that Jack woke up from his naps
very
happy. “How long do you think it’s going to be before you can look me in the eye again?”

“I was thinking a week or two,” I said. “Maybe closer to Thanksgiving.”

“That’s what I figured,” Jack said with a long sigh. “Well, there’s only one thing to do.”

I was afraid to ask, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. “What’s that?”

He rolled me to my back and was inside me before I could blink. And there we were, face to face. His cheeks were stubbled, and his eyes were dark and satisfied.

“We’ll just have to practice until you get used to waking up beside me every morning.”

“Sneaky,” I moaned, even as my eyes rolled back in my head.

And then we stopped talking altogether.

“That was Vaughn,” Jack said when his cell rang an hour later. “He got a big shipment in yesterday afternoon, so he didn’t get our messages until it was too late to call. He’s still at the store, but he said I could talk to him there. Do you want to come along?”

We’d showered and gotten dressed, and I was surprised to see it was only a few minutes past eight when we made it down to the kitchen for coffee and breakfast. Jack was an early riser. In more ways than one.

“As long as I’m back by noon. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.”

Jack nodded, and my mouth watered a little when he strapped on his weapon and clipped his badge to his belt. He grabbed his leather jacket and my coat, and I grabbed our to-go cups of coffee and slung my medical bag over my shoulder.

“I want to make another stop by Reverend Oglesby’s house while we’re over in King George. I think we might have been asking his neighbors the wrong questions.”

I tried not to think about the people staring at us as we made our way through Bloody Mary and towards King George Proper, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt that people were talking about me staying with Jack. And now they had reason for speculation.

I’d rolled my eyes when I’d looked in the mirror after my shower. I looked rested and happy, and there was a glow about me that hadn’t been there in months. I might as well have a letter A tattooed on my forehead.

“How long before you have the blood results back from the lab?” I asked, searching through my bag for some Chapstick. Mostly it was a good excuse to keep my head down.

“I need to give them a call. They were going to put a rush on it for me because of the nature of the crime. It’s been two days, so they might have something for me already.”

The lab in Richmond that Jack used did good and fast work. Depending on the nature of what was needed, it was fairly common to get blood DNA finished in a couple of days, especially since we were just looking to see if the blood we found at the back of Reverend Oglesby’s house was a match for the victim.

Vaughn’s antique store was in an old Victorian that had been restored about a decade ago, and he’d bought it for a song when the owners had gone bankrupt and had to foreclose. It was three full stories, complete with a widow’s walk, and painted a pale yellow. The porch spindles were olive green and the decorative trim was a dark rose. The house took up half the block, and there was a very tasteful sign in bronze and cherry wood that sat on the small patch of grass between the street and the sidewalk. It read
Raines’ Antiques and Vitamin Shoppe
in slanted script.

“I hate coming here,” I said as Jack pulled into the small back parking lot. “I always see something I want.”

“Maybe it could be a wedding present,” Jack said.

“For who?”

“For us, dummy.”

I felt the blood drain from my face, and I stuck my head between my knees.

“Too soon?” Jack asked. “I know we’ve just met and all.”

I was incapable of speech, so I didn’t bother to respond to the sarcasm.

“You could be right,” he said. “We’ll take it slow and live together for a while first.”

Jack was out of the car before I could get my thoughts together, and I narrowed my eyes as he left me alone and headed to the door.

“Wait just a minute,” I said, though he couldn’t hear me since I was still sitting in the car like a dummy. I pushed open the door, and then jerked against the seatbelt when I tried to get out without taking it off first. I released myself and then tripped over the curb as I got out. “I said wait a minute.”

Jack turned and raised his brows in question, but I could see the humor he was trying to contain. I wasn’t laughing. This was my life, dammit.

“What was that, J.J.? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Wait just a damned minute,” I said for the third time. “You can’t just go around dropping bombs like that. I haven’t agreed to anything. Just because I slept with you doesn’t mean you get to be in charge of my life.”

I saw the anger flash in his eyes for a brief second before he put it away.

“You can’t tell me after this morning that what we had between us wasn’t a commitment.”

“Since when are you so pro-commitment? What happened to sowing your wild oats?”

“They’ve been sowed. I have a lovely patchwork quilt to show for it.” He moved in closer, and I could see the storm raging behind the black of his eyes. I wasn’t sure if he was holding back because he was afraid I couldn’t handle it or if he just hadn’t reached the breaking point yet. “Sometimes you just know,” he said softly. “There’s no one else for me.”

I tried to swallow, but it felt like something was caught in my throat. Possibly my heart. “I don’t know how I feel about marriage,” I said. “I can’t imagine I’d be any good at it.”

“Marriage is a natural progression when two people love each other. Though you have yet to say the words to my face. You’re not ready to get married? That’s fine. But there’s no reason you can’t move in with me while you’re warming up your cold feet. I’ve waited a long time for you. And I’m tired of being patient. It’s my turn to get what I want for once.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know you were waiting for me?” I asked, the exasperation in my voice obvious.

“You have eyes. Look back over the years and think about it a minute. And I’ve got my pride. I believe things happen in their own time, and this is the time. Now stop being so stubborn.” He kissed me hard once, and then opened the door and went into the store.

I followed behind him, not sure what I should say next, but knowing I had a right to be irritated. The old floors creaked beneath our footsteps, and the inside had that musty smell that came with items of a certain age.

“I’m back in the storeroom,” Vaughn called out. “Meet me in the office. I’ve got some fresh coffee made.”

I passed a beautiful porcelain vase that was so thin and finely crafted I could see my hand through the opposite side. But I walked past it without checking the discrete price tag I knew Vaughn had placed on the underside because all I could think of was receiving it as a wedding gift. My palms went sweaty, and I wiped them on my jeans. I needed coffee.

Jack handed me a mug as soon as I walked into Vaughn’s office, and I scowled at him for being a damned mind reader on top of everything else. Did he have to be so perfect all the time?

“Jesus,” Vaughn said as he came through the door. “It must’ve been amazing sex if you’re already fighting. Dickie owes me fifty dollars.”

“Always glad to help lighten Dickie’s pockets,” Jack said, taking a seat in one of the Queen Anne chairs against the wall.

I decided the best course of action was to sit down and drink my coffee instead of knocking their heads together like I wanted, so I took the chair on the opposite side and decided to ignore them both.

“Have you found out anything new?” Vaughn asked, sitting on the loveseat that faced us. He was dressed in old jeans and a black t-shirt, and there were smudges of dust here and there that came with the territory when moving old pieces of furniture around a storeroom. Hardly anyone ever got to see Vaughn dressed any way but perfection.

“Nothing new. I just wanted to follow up with a couple of questions,” Jack said. “Tell me about any habits Daniel had. His routine.”

Vaughn smiled. “Daniel was definitely one for his routines. He woke up at six every morning, seven days a week, and started the day with a three-mile jog. It didn’t matter if it was raining, sleeting, hailing or snowing. And that road that looped around his house could be treacherous if the weather turned bad. But he had to have his run, or he said he couldn’t function the rest of the day.”

“What about his knee?” I asked.

“He tore a ligament a few years ago, but surgery and rehab fixed him up enough that he could start running again. It would sometimes give him trouble at the end of the day, but he’d ice it down and be back running the next morning.”

“What’d he do after his run?” Jack asked.

“He’d go back and shower and get dressed for the day. He usually went straight to the hospital from the house instead of going to the church. He liked being with the people more than he liked being behind a desk.”

Vaughn tapped his finger against his knee, and it was the only sign I could see that he was upset. I knew this was hard on him.

“On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays he visited the nursing home after his hospital rounds, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays he spent time at the youth rec center. He’d stop back by his house and grab some lunch and then he’d head to the church to work in his office in the afternoon. You could practically set your watch by the man. That’s probably what killed him.”

I could tell by the look on Jack’s face that he agreed. “Did Daniel ever have any run-ins with George Murphy?” Jack asked.

“Not that I know of. George wasn’t one for regular church attendance, and I know for a fact Daniel took his car over to The Happy Mechanic just down the road.”

“Do you have a .38?”

The tension in the room skyrocketed as Vaughn understood where Jack was going with his line of questioning. I hadn’t been prepared either, and I’d picked the wrong moment to take a drink, because I started choking as soon as the words left Jack’s mouth. Vaughn pounded me on the back, and Jack just sighed and shook his head.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said. “It just went down the wrong hole.”

“If I had a nickel—” Vaughn said, making Jack and I both snort out a surprised laugh, breaking the tension a little.

Vaughn sighed, looking a little sad, and stood up. “Yeah, I’ve got a .38. It’s upstairs.”

“I’m going to have to take it with me,” Jack said.

“I figured as much. Let’s get this done. I’m not in much of a mood for unpacking crates of furniture. It seems like a good time to open that bottle of whiskey you got me for Christmas last year and have a
Murder She Wrote
marathon.”

Jack squeezed the back of my neck before I could make a smartass comment, and we followed Vaughn up three flights of stairs to his living quarters. The top floor was bigger than most people’s houses, and Vaughn led us in through the spacious living room, down a narrow hall, and into the smallest bedroom where he kept his office. Everything was neat and organized, and I wondered if I surrounded myself with people who had that quality because I lacked it myself.

“I keep all my guns in the safe,” he said, moving several books off the third shelf of the built-in bookcases against the wall. “I’ve got a .38 and a .22 in here. And I’ve got a rifle in the top of my closet.”

“Sometimes it terrifies me how much of this county is armed,” Jack said. “Half the people in my jurisdiction have conceal to carry permits.”

“I overheard Hilda Martin at the grocery store telling someone she got hers to prepare for the zombie invasion,” Vaughn said. “I’m almost positive she wasn’t kidding.”

A metal door appeared and Vaughn typed in a quick code before I heard the soft snick of a lock opening. I knew as soon as I saw the inside that we were going to have a problem.

“I don’t understand,” Vaughn said as we all looked inside the empty box. “I had this open not a week ago and everything was here.”

“Anything else missing besides the guns?” Jack asked.

“A couple thousand in cash. That’s it.”

Jack sighed. “I’m going to send someone over to take fingerprints, and I’ll need you to fill out a statement. Anyone else have the combination to the safe.”

“Just—Daniel,” Vaughn said, obviously shaken. “But he wouldn’t have taken anything without telling me.”

Jack didn’t have to say what he was thinking aloud. I’d been thinking the same thing. Whoever had killed Daniel Oglesby had tortured the information out of him.

“You need to get in touch with your attorney,” Jack said. “If the gun we found with George’s body comes back with your name on it, we’re going to have a problem on our hands.”

Vaughn blew out a breath, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Good thing I can count on you to find the killers before it comes to that.”