Hold on to Me (17 page)

“The same one you get whenever I say anything about going out with Jeff.”

He attempted to wipe sweet potatoes from Charlie’s face. “He’s too old for you.”

“Six years! How is that too old? Mason Jordan was too irresponsible. Donny Thurston was too serious too soon. It doesn’t matter who I date—you’re not going to approve of anyone. Besides, how can you say he’s too old for me? Your last girlfriend was twenty-one.”

“Twenty-three. And two dates don’t qualify her as my girlfriend.” He lifted his tea glass and took a long swallow.

“Whatever. Maybe I’ll just go out with Cookie.”

He choked. “That’ll never happen.”

“And why not?”

“Because he knows I’d kill him.”

“Victoria. Lamar. We have guests.” Lenora’s voice was a gentle, steely reminder.

Tori subsided with a pout. Tick shifted a drowsy Charlie on his lap, and she rested her head under his chin, eyes drifting shut. Deanne laid her fork beside her plate. “Let me go put her down.”

Tick waved her back to a seated position, rising with the little girl cradled to his chest. “I’ll put her on Mama’s bed.”

“I wish she’d go down that easily at night.” Chuck placed another helping of butterbeans on his plate.

Deanne laughed. “Well, if someone didn’t get her all riled up by playing airplane right before bedtime, she probably would.”

Tick eased out of the room. Caitlin pushed the food around her plate one more time. Having her fingernails pulled out one by one couldn’t be worse than this.

When was this day going to end?

After settling Charlie on his mother’s bed, Tick spread the light blanket over her. A smudge of sweet potato still colored her chin, and he grinned. She hated having her face washed and she’d give Chuck a fit later when he tried.

His cell phone emitted the opening notes of his favorite Gary Allan tune, and he stepped into the hallway, pulling the slim device from his belt. “Calvert.”

“We’ve got a positive ID on your lime-mine victim from the dental records. It is Kimberly Johnson.” Williams’s voice was brisk. “Her partner from Atlanta PD drove down. He wants to talk to you.”

“Is he still there?”

“Yeah. He wanted a minute with her.”

He took a quick glance at his watch. “Give him directions to the sheriff’s office. Tell him I’ll meet him there in a half hour.”

“You got it.” With a click, she was gone.

He walked back to the dining room. Jeff had returned to the table. Tick’s gaze settled on Caitlin’s bent head. Her food seemed untouched. “Cait, we’ve got to go.”

Jeff watched him with a troubled expression. “It’s not another one, is it?”

“No, thank God.”

“Do you need me to come with you?”

He waved away the question. “No. Finish your meal. Cait and I can handle this.”

Caitlin met his gaze, and he saw that her relaxed smile was nothing more than a polite mask. She stood, thanking his mother before following him into the hall. “What is it?”

“Our vic from yesterday is Kimberly Johnson. Her partner made the identification and he’s on his way over from Moultrie to talk to us.”

“That was fast.” Excitement flickered through her eyes. “Maybe we’ll get a lead from this.”

“Yeah.” He fought the impulse to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. As much as he wanted this case solved, he didn’t want her to go and he needed more time to convince her, to get through those layers of hers. “I hope so, too.”

“You know those things will kill you,” she said.

“Yeah, but someone has to support the tobacco farmers.”

“When did you start that, anyway?” Pique twisted through her. She resisted the desire to snatch the glowing white cylinder out of his hold.

“Mississippi.” He tucked his lighter in his pocket, his gaze flickering toward the street. “Helped take the edge off.”

“Do you realize what you’re doing to your lungs? Could you even pass a physical training run right now?”

He laughed. “I’ll have you know I conduct our training runs every week.”

“Standing on the track with a stop watch does not count.” Unimpressed, she crossed her arms over her chest. She shouldn’t even make a big deal of this, but it irked her. Besides, it was definitely easier to talk about this than another topic she could think of. “And kissing you after you’ve had one of those things is less than pleasant.”

“Does that mean you’ll kiss me more often if I quit?” Devilment glowed in his dark gaze, and her breath stopped in her throat, the urge to kiss him right now strong, cigarette or not. He tilted his head toward her; she raised her mouth.

“Are you Investigator Calvert?”

Regret flared in his eyes, sparking an answering twinge in her chest. They turned to face the man climbing the steps, a thick manila folder in hand. He had closely cropped hair and the professional bearing of a young cop.

Tick crushed the cigarette out in the adjacent ash can and extended a hand. “Yes, and this is Agent Falconetti, FBI.”

The man took his hand in a quick handshake and nodded at Caitlin. He didn’t smile. “Tripp Payton, Atlanta PD. Kimberly Johnson was my partner. Agent Williams said I could find you here.”

“I’m sorry about your partner, Officer Payton,” Caitlin said, eyeing his tense movements. The anger lurking in his eyes was too personal. Losing a partner was the worst thing in the world for a cop, but his expression hinted that Kimberly Johnson had been more than his partner.

“Thanks.” He ran a hand over his short brown hair. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“We can use my office,” Tick said. “Or there’s a diner down the street if you’re hungry.”

“I could use some caffeine.” He jammed his free hand in his pocket. “I haven’t had anything all day.”

The Sunday dinner rush was over and the small storefront diner held only a couple of older men lingering over gossip and slices of pecan pie. Tick chose a corner table at the back of the restaurant and let Payton order first, a cheeseburger and cola, before ordering sweet tea for Caitlin and himself.

Payton rubbed his hands over his face. “Seeing her was harder than I thought it would be.”

“How long were you partners?” Caitlin asked.

He dropped his hands to the table. “Three years. Since she graduated from the academy. Kim loves…loved the job. She wanted to change the world. She never lost that idealism most rookies have.”

“She was more than your partner, wasn’t she?” Tick kept the question soft, even.

Payton nodded, staring at the green Formica tabletop. “We started dating last year, after she got sick. We kept it a secret because we didn’t want them to split us up as partners. I wanted to marry her.”

“Sick?” Tick leaned back to allow the waitress greater access to the table. Ice tinkled in tall glasses with wedges of lemon clinging to the rims.

“Cervical cancer.” Payton wrapped both hands around his tumbler, ignoring the hamburger. “It’s supposed to be really rare in women her age, but it was vicious. She went through the whole bit—surgery, chemo, radiation. But she beat it. I used to tell her she was my superhero—strong, brave—nothing could touch her.”

“She sounds like a great person,” Tick said, his voice quiet.

“She is…was. I wanted to spend my life with her, but she…she wanted some time before she answered me. The surgery, well, that meant we couldn’t have kids. I told her it didn’t matter, that I only wanted her. She thought I’d change my mind later, maybe start to resent her.”

Unable to give the conversation the concentration it demanded, Caitlin stared at a distant point over Payton’s shoulder. As much as she hungered to hear the same words from the man sitting beside her, she understood Kimberly’s reluctance to accept them at face value. Who wanted to live life waiting for the man she loved to decide she wasn’t enough after all?

“That must have been hard for her.” Empathy colored Tick’s words, dragging Caitlin from her thoughts.

Payton nodded. “That’s why she was going to Florida. She wanted to walk on the beach, get her thoughts together. She was supposed to give me an answer when she got back. Only she never made it. When she didn’t call and let me know she’d gotten to Panama City, I got worried. Then the hotel said she’d never checked in.”

“That was three weeks ago, right?”

“Three weeks and four days. I knew she’d been here, but I didn’t expect to…I didn’t expect her to be found here.” Payton flipped open the file, pulling a record of credit card transactions. “She bought gas locally, but the next transaction was in Tallahassee a couple of hours later—a fast-food joint. Then Lake City, Gainesville. I thought if anything happened to her, it was there. I went down, but didn’t find anything. Then when someone tried to use the card again, in Orlando, the credit card company called the police. The woman they arrested said she’d found it in a bus-station parking lot in Thomasville. That’s why I focused my attention there.”

Caitlin picked up the record. “May we keep this?”

He pushed the entire folder across the table. “That’s why I brought it. That’s everything I have—cell phone details, witness interviews, everything. I just want you to find the bastard.”

Three weeks’ worth of legwork in one convenient package. Caitlin knew what Tick was thinking—it was better than Christmas. Tick flipped through the interview notes on top. “Did you talk to anyone here?”

“I stopped at the convenience store where she bought gas. No one remembered her.” Payton’s voice betrayed disbelief that anyone could not remember.

“It’s the Tank and Tummy.” Tick underlined the name with his finger on the credit card record. “They just installed security cameras a couple of months ago after their third armed robbery. We can get the tape.”

Payton drained his soda. “I’ve got to head back. I…I need to talk to her mama tonight. I want her to hear it from me, that it really is Kim.”

He reached for his wallet, and Tick waved him back to a seated position. “I’ve got it. Cait, let me have one of your cards.” Tick scrawled his name and number on the back of her card. “You need to know anything, you call me or Agent Falconetti. And I promise you, as soon as we know something, you’ll be the first call I make.”

Rising to his feet, Payton pocketed the card and took Tick’s proffered hand. “Thanks.”

Payton walked to the door, the line of his shoulders screaming dejection. Caitlin rested her chin on her hand. “God, that poor guy. Can you imagine what he’s going through?”

“Yeah, I can.” Tick stood and tossed a bill on the table. He grabbed her hand, his gaze intent on her face. “And I don’t want to. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She picked up the folder, thankful for the excuse to avert her eyes. Resisting him was so damn hard when he looked at her like that. He made her want to let go of the fear and just believe in him, but the old habit of self-preservation dug in with tenacious claws.

He tugged her toward the door, and she pulled her hand from his. “Tick, slow down. Where are we going?”

“I want to get that tape.”

Caitlin matched his stride on the way to the truck, glad to have the force of his attention concentrated on something other than her for the moment. She needed to get her equilibrium back after that conversation and focused on latching her seat belt as he fired the engine.

“You know what I don’t get?” He braked for the first traffic light, a slight frown wrinkling his brow. “Why did she think her not being able to have children would matter to him?”

She swallowed, choosing her words with care. “Because to some men, I guess it would make a difference.”

His laugh resembled a derisive snort. “Sure, shallow ones.”

“With your recent dating record, you’re not allowed to call anyone shallow.” The desire to change the subject was strong, but the need to probe his feelings was stronger. She forced herself to use a casual tone. “How would you react in his situation?”

“The murder?”

“The infertility.”

“I don’t know. I never thought about it.” He shrugged, steering into the left turning lane. A semi loaded with crates of live chickens rumbled through the intersection. “I guess I’d be disappointed, but would it change my feelings? No. And, hell, people adopt every day.”

“Yes, they do,” she murmured. People underwent fertility treatments every day, too. Intellectually, she accepted both as an option. The bureau counselor persisted in pointing that out during their rare meetings, but right now the grief and loss were too strong, overpowering acceptance and hope. She didn’t have the necessary strength to consider the merry-go-round. A five percent chance at successfully bearing a child meant a ninety-five percent chance of failure. How did anyone deal with odds like that?

She’d already lost one very loved, very wanted baby. She wasn’t ready to travel that road again yet. And if she was, would Tick want to?

They left the city limits behind, and he pressed down on the gas. “How would you react?”

Startled from her thoughts, she twisted in the seat to look at him. “What do you mean?”

Squinting, he pulled his sunglasses from the visor and slid them on. “If the situation were reversed and you found out the guy you were interested in was sterile, would it matter?”

“No.”

“There you go, then. I don’t get it. Why did she think it would change anything?” He slowed to pull into the dusty parking lot of a squat metal convenience store with a faded, hand-painted sign advertising gas, hot cooked food and boiled peanuts.

“Maybe she didn’t want to cheat him.”

He parked behind an ancient blue El Camino to the rear of the building. With a quizzical expression, he killed the engine. “Cheat him?”

“The infertility was probably a blow to her identity, especially if she’d wanted children. If she leaves, he can find someone else, someone capable of bearing his child.”

“That’s the most illogical thing I’ve ever heard.” His chuckle infuriated her and she pushed the door open, her feet kicking up little puffs of dust when she stepped down.

“People’s emotions aren’t always logical, Calvert.”

He met her at the back of the truck. “It’s a moot point, anyway. She’s dead. I wonder what her answer would have been if she’d known that she’d never see him again.”

“What-ifs are a waste of time.”

“Yeah, but sometimes you can’t help thinking about them, and I have a lot where you’re concerned, Falconetti. Hell, Carter is a breathing what-if. I look at him and see what was in the back of my mind during that whole undercover detail. I was damned irresponsible with you.”

“We were both careless.” Being with him, coupled with the conversation, suffused her with a wanting that went beyond physical desire. Beneath the wanting, hope whispered of possibilities long abandoned. She wouldn’t be able to resist him long, not when he looked at her like this, with tenderness and desire burning in his dark eyes.

“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his nape and glanced across the parking lot. He laughed, a low, rueful sound. “But you’re the only woman I’ve ever lost my head like that with.”

She wanted to be that only woman in his life, more than she would admit to herself. Pushing the craving away, she pulled up a cool smile. “I’m flattered, Calvert, really, but I thought you were in a hurry to get this tape?”

He quirked one eyebrow at her tone. “Yeah. Come on.”

The aroma of stale grease and cigarette smoke permeated the store’s dim interior. A woman in her late forties sat on a stool behind the counter, reading the Sunday paper. Her bleached blonde hair rose in a teased bubble over her forehead. A half-burnt cigarette dangled from her cracked, heavily rouged lips.

When the cheap wind chimes over the door announced their arrival, she huffed a sigh and slowly raised her eyes, speaking around the cigarette. “Well, look what the cat done drug in.”

“Hey, Jeanette,” Tick drawled, his posture relaxing. He transformed into his slow country farm-boy role and Caitlin smiled at the ease with which he put it on. He leaned on the counter. “I need a favor.”

Jeanette stubbed her cigarette out in an ashtray shaped like a tractor wheel. “Why is it every time I hear those words come out of your mouth, there’s trouble?”

“Now, that is not true—”

“Who’s your friend?” Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Jeanette waved a hand at Caitlin, the fluorescent light bouncing off garish red nails.

He slid a slow grin in Caitlin’s direction and an insidious thrill of desire pinched low in her stomach. Oh, God, he had the sexiest mouth ever.