Criminal Intent (MIRA) (29 page)

For now, he’d turn on the charm. Put on his lady-killer smile and crank the wattage so blindingly high that the fat cow working behind the cash register at the Big Apple would swoon and fall over in a dead faint at his feet.

She was up to the letter N, and the place was really starting to shape up. Of course, it would probably all have to be rearranged again once she replaced the videos she’d lost, but that would be easy compared to this job. She hadn’t heard from Estelle yet today, which meant that Boomer was probably going to allow her to work. With two people, the job would go much more quickly. This afternoon, she intended to sit Estelle down and have the young woman show her how and where to order those replacement videos. While they were at it, maybe it was time to step into the twenty-first century and consider replacing them with DVDs, as long as they were buying new ones anyway. Even in a town as small as this one, most people owned a DVD player. Nowadays, you could pick them up at Wal-Mart for a mere fifty bucks.

She should have her insurance check by the end of the week, and then she’d have to make a trip to the nearest Staples store—which she suspected was in Lewiston—to buy a new computer monitor. Maybe she’d even have her car back by then. If all went as planned, they could be back up and running by Saturday. And not a moment too soon. She’d been turning away customers like crazy. Not to mention that right now, she was paying Estelle’s salary out of her own pocket. Some sort of income to offset the cost of paying the woman for doing nothing would be nice.

The phone rang, and she blew out a hard breath of air between pursed lips. That phone was one of the few things the vandals
hadn’t touched. Praying it wasn’t Estelle calling to say she was taking another day off, Annie smoothed her tangled hair and went to answer it.

“Mrs. Kendall?”

It was a woman’s voice at the other end, one she didn’t recognize. “Yes?” she said cautiously.

“This is Dixie Lessard with the Serenity Police Department. Chief Hunter asked me to give you a call. He wants to know if you’re available to stop by the station for a bit.”

Like a fourteen-year-old with her first crush, Annie’s heart began hammering. “Right now?” she said.

“If you can, ma’am. It’ll only take a few minutes. He says there’s something you’ll want to hear.”

Something she’d want to hear? “Does this have anything to do with the break-in at my video store?” she said.

“He didn’t give me any details, but I suspect it might.”

“All right,” she said. “Tell him I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

She hung up the phone and sprinted up the stairs to her apartment, where she took the quickest shower on record. She arranged her hair in an easy upsweep and applied subtle makeup. Meeting her own eyes in the mirror, she chided herself for being ridiculous. He’d already seen her looking like the Bride of Frankenstein, when her hair was a mess and she was covered with paint and she hadn’t slept all night. But it would be nice if just once Hunter could see her looking fresh and womanly and enticing. So instead of the usual jeans and T-shirt, she put on a lightweight summer dress of white cotton eyelet that left her arms and shoulders bare and emphasized her legs. Then she dug out the pair of white sandals she’d bought to go with the dress. They’d never even been out of the box. Studying herself in the full-length bathroom mirror, she knew she’d have blisters before lunch. But it was worth it. Damn, she looked hot. Hot enough to blow Interim Police
Chief Davy Hunter’s most excellent ass right off his swivel chair and onto the floor.

Mindful of her destination, she carefully avoiding breaking any traffic laws. She was only three minutes late when she walked through the front door of the police station. The woman at the dispatch desk glanced up, gave her the once-over, and grinned. “The party’s in there,” she said, indicating with her shoulder. “They’re waiting for you.”

She knocked on the closed door, heard a grunted response, and let herself in. Behind the desk, Davy Hunter leaned back in his chair, tapping a ballpoint pen against his desk blotter. He took in her outfit, took in the hair and the makeup and the long, bare legs. His blue eyes, hot and intense, met hers and stayed there. “Good morning,” she said.

“Morning. Have a seat.”

Annie glanced around the room, a little surprised by the identities of its other occupants. She took the only empty chair, crossed her legs and adjusted her hemline so that it fell a couple inches above her knee. Just enough to give Hunter a teasing glimpse of her assets. She might have been born in Detroit, but she’d been raised in Mississippi, and like all southern belles, she understood what it took to drive a man to distraction. Discreetly, of course. “Estelle,” she said, glancing to her left. “Boomer. And—” Smiling pleasantly, she glanced inquisitively at the mountainous man with bright red hair who was holding up one wall of Hunter’s office.

“Officer Pete Morin,” he said, giving her legs an appreciative glance. “Nice to meet you.”

“All right,” she said to Hunter, all business in spite of the tempting scrap of thigh she was flashing him. “I’m here. What’s going on?”

Beneath the desk, he stretched out those long legs in her direction. “I believe Boomer has something he’d like to say to you.”

Surprised, she
turned to look at Boomer Gunderson. Beside him, Estelle’s mouth was set in a grim line, her arms folded firmly above the mound of her belly. Boomer gazed steadily at his own clasped hands, hanging loosely between his outstretched knees. His face was beet-red. With difficulty, he said, “I’m the one that wrecked your video store.”

Annie sat up slowly, momentarily forgetting Davy Hunter, momentarily forgetting everything but what she’d just heard. “What?” she said.

Suddenly looking about twelve years old, Boomer took a long, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Estelle cuffed the side of his head. “Tell her the rest, putz.”

“Estelle,” Davy reprimanded softly, but nobody was listening to him.

“I did it for her,” Boomer said, his voice barely audible in the room, although the silence was so heavy that Annie could hear the clock ticking. “Estelle loves the Twilight. She feels like it’s hers. Mikey let her run it, you know? He didn’t come around much, so she got to do whatever she wanted wih the place. She’s the one brought in all those new customers. The place was going under until Estelle took over. When Mikey put the business up for sale, she wanted to buy it. But before we could look into the financing, Mikey sold it right out from under her.” He finally looked up at Annie. “She came home in tears! She was so afraid the new owner wouldn’t want to keep her on. Or that they’d shut down the business. The place don’t bring in much money. Mikey was keeping it open mostly for Estelle.”

She was missing something here. This kid’s logic seemed to be from the planet Mars. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she told Boomer. “How would your trashing the place benefit Estelle?”

He swiped a fist across his nose. “I thought if I scared you off, you’d leave town, and sell the place to her.”

She
looked to Estelle for confirmation, but the young woman had her face buried in her hands, apparently overwhelmed by all of this. Whether it was Boomer’s grand gesture of love that had her overwhelmed, or merely his stupidity, Annie couldn’t tell. “Well,” she said, at a loss for words. Looking at Hunter, who was still focused on her legs, she said again, “Well.”

The silence in the room was broken only by Boomer’s sniffling. Annie tugged her skirt down over her knees, and Hunter finally looked at her face. “What now?” she said.

“We can proceed in any of several different directions,” he said carefully, “depending on what you decide to do. Whether you want to press criminal charges, or settle this issue privately.”

“So it’s up to me?”

“Pretty much.”

“I see.” She thought about it for a while as Boomer sniffled in the background. “And if I should decide to press charges?”

He exchanged glances with Pete Morin. “Pete?” he said. “Care to jump in here? You’re more familiar with the penal code than I am.”

Pete cleared his throat. “Depending on who we get for a judge, Boomer here could be looking at a few months of jail time. We’re talking B&E, criminal trespass, willful destruction of property, malicious mischief. We could probably think up one or two other charges if we had to, make us a nice round half-dozen. He’s already confessed to the crime, so it would be pretty straightforward. Since he’s expressed his…ah, remorse, a lenient judge might just give him probation and restitution. Maybe a little community service. If he ended up with Judge Bernier, on the other hand—” Pete shook his head and made a cutting motion across his throat.

“Judge Bernier?” she said.

“Also
known,” Davy said ominously, “as the hanging judge.”

“He doesn’t look at motivation or intent,” Pete said, “or want to hear any sorry-ass excuses. Sob stories always piss him off. He doesn’t care if your father was a drunk who beat you every other Sunday, or if you had to steal to finance your kid sister’s chemotherapy, or if you burned down Joe Schmoe’s house to get even with him for mugging your poor old granny and financing a trip to Monte Carlo with her credit cards. He doesn’t give a damn how sorry you are, or how many mouths you have to feed. With him, none of that matters. If you did the crime, you do the time.”

“Why do I get the feeling,” she said, “that you’re both trying to influence my decision? Aren’t cops supposed to be unbiased?”

“On some alternate planet,” Davy said. “Of course, the decision’s entirely up to you.”

“Of course.” She shot a glance at Boomer, who had finally stopped sniffling. Now he was just looking scared. Estelle was leaning back in her chair, eyes closed, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Which, although Annie knew it was impossible, seemed bigger and rounder than it had when she’d arrived, approximately eight minutes ago. If Boomer went to jail, who would see Estelle through her last trimester? Who would run to the Big Apple to buy her pistachio ice cream at three in the morning? Who would buy Pampers and baby formula and share those midnight feedings?

“Shit,” she said.

They all looked at her. “What?” she said. “Do you people all think I’m heartless?”

The tension in the room dissipated, whooshing away like helium let out of a balloon. “I’m sure Pete and I can work with you to come up with a suitable restitution plan,” Davy said. “And I’m sure that Boomer, in his unending gratitude, will be
more than willing to go along with whatever the three of us come up with. Am I right, Boomer?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know I did a stupid thing, but I learned my lesson. I swear, from this minute on, I walk the straight and narrow. Scout’s honor.”

Hunter looked at her. “You’re sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, then, Gunderson. Get the hell on out of here, and I don’t want to see you back again. While you’re at it, you should kiss this lady’s feet. She just handed you a Get Out of Jail Free card. Act like you appreciate it.”

“Thanks,” Boomer mumbled, eyes downcast.

Pete Morin opened the office door, and Boomer scooted through it. While Pete held the door open, waiting, Estelle stood, arms crossed over her belly. Looking Annie straight in the eye, she said, “So am I fired?”

“I’ll have to think about it. Boomer did a really stupid thing, Estelle.”

“I know. I think his mother dropped him on his head when he was a baby. He’s an idiot. But he’s my idiot. Thanks for understanding.” She glanced around at Davy and Pete. “That includes you guys.”

She swept past Pete, who lumbered out the door and closed it firmly behind him. “You planning to fire her?” Davy said.

“Probably not. Do you think he’s learned his lesson?”

“Probably not.”

The air between them was thick with unspoken words, swirling and tumbling like the roiling emotions they represented. “About last night,” she said.

“Forget last night. I was being an ass. It’s what I do best.”

“Really?” she said, rising from her chair. “I thought I was the ass.”

He got up and ambled around the desk while her breath tangled
up inside her. Sliding a finger beneath the strap to her sundress, he said, “Did you wear this just to make me hot?”

“Yes.”

“It worked. Then again, I’ve been hot ever since the first time I saw you.” He touched his mouth to her bare shoulder, and a shudder ran through her.

“I thought you were a real hard-ass,” she said.

“Yeah.” His mouth, infinitely exciting, skimmed down her arm. “So did I.”

“So what happened?”

He caught her hand in his, brought it up to his mouth. Kissed each of her fingers, one by one. “You cracked me wide open. Scared the hell out of me.”

She coiled her free arm around his shoulder. With a single finger, she explored the back of his neck, the curve of his ear.

“This is what scares me the most,” he whispered.

Her exploring finger drew a line through the hair just above the nape of his neck. “What?” she said, marveling at its silky texture.

“That you feel this good to me when we both still have our clothes on. Ah, shit, Annie.” The vulgarity should have offended her, coming as it did in the midst of such an intimate moment. The fact that it didn’t told her everything she needed to know about her feelings for this man. She lay her head against his chest and he tucked it beneath his chin. “You have to give me some time,” he said. “This is all new to me, and I’m not very good at it.”

Time? She had nothing but time. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

“Me neither.” It was probably as close as he was going to get to the
L
word, at least for now. “Last night,” he said, “before I picked up Brian—I broke up with Chelsea.”

“Um…Davy?”

“Yeah?”

“You
do realize that Chelsea’s dead?”

“I know. That’s why you have to understand the significance of what I did.”

And she did. The magnitude of his words, his actions, struck her full in the heart and left her reeling. She turned her face up to his. With his thumb, he tenderly wiped away a tear.

“Don’t cry,” he said. “For God’s sake, Annie, don’t cry. I never know what to do with a crying woman.”