A Nash Mystery Box Set Page 14

  “This is Deputy Morris over in Hardy County. We found an abandoned vehicle registered to the Kerry Sheriff’s Department.”

  Her muscles weakened and her breath caught. She glanced up at Dax who’d stilled. “Where’s the cruiser now?” He gave her directions to the vehicle’s location, and Jessie jotted them down, her shaky hand making her letters almost illegible. “Thank you. I’m a little short-handed right now, so I can’t be certain when I can make it over, but I’ll call before I come if that’s all right.”

  “No problem.” He gave her his number. “If you can’t make it tonight, I can meet you tomorrow just as easily.”

  “Thank you.” She hung up.

  Dax came over to her desk and leaned a hip on the edge. “Clinton’s car?”

  She nodded. “He’s really dead isn’t he?”

  “It’s looking like it.”

  Jessie refused to break down. She didn’t have the time. “Maybe you and Amanda can drive over and pick up the car. It’s a good forty-five minutes away.”

  He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and his touch sent a shiver of need to her groin. Stop reacting. Maybe the dress was having a cosmic affect on her senses.

  “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said. “We’ll go together.”

  She glanced at her watch. “Let’s make it tomorrow if that’s okay. Hobbling around on crutches has tuckered me out, and by the time we get there and come back it’ll be dark. Besides, I don’t want Nana to be home alone any longer than necessary.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me.” Dax stood. “Are you sure you put the receipts back in Clinton’s top drawer?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Well, they aren’t there now.”

  Chapter 15

  Dax didn’t expect to discover a hell of a lot by following Mayor Kreplick or the bank president, Peter Lucas, but he had to satisfy that voice in his head that told him something wasn’t right with the whole blackmail theory. To him, Amanda and Jessie’s concept had too many holes.

  He wasn’t happy about leaving her, but Jessie should be safe with her sharp shooting Nana by her side. He had to chuckle at the image of the old lady practicing her rifle skills, but there was little question Margaret Nash was no ordinary woman.

  Once Dax dropped Jessie at home, he returned to town and parked the cruiser in front of the office, figuring that following a suspect in a police vehicle would never work. He might as well use a bullhorn and announce he was right behind him.

  Jessie had locked up the office after they’d returned from Clinton’s house, and he felt fairly certain no one would be stupid enough to break in, especially with an official vehicle in front. But hey, stranger things had happened since he’d come to Kerry.

  Dax chose Peter Lucas to tail because banker’s hours were more predictable, and because he had no idea about the Mayor’s schedule. Besides, find one, catch the other.

  Across the street from the bank was the Western Wear shop. He entered and pretended to browse through the selection of cowboy boots and hats while keeping an eye on the stately bank. He hoped Peter Lucas wasn’t the type to stay too late past the close of business or Dax might be walking away with a new but unwanted wardrobe.

  He tried on a few pairs of boots to make his stakeout appear legit, but there was no way he’d be caught dead in anything made of snakeskin. A cowboy he was not. The salesman was good though. He had to give the guy credit, but Dax never did cotton to Stetsons or big belt buckles. Unfortunately for the clerk, he wouldn’t be making a sale off him today.

  At precisely four thirty-three, the object of his tail, Mr. Peter Lucas, exited the bank. Dressed in a neatly tailored blue pinstriped suit, the man looked downright dapper.

  He turned to the salesman. “I want to think over my choices and perhaps I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be here,” the clerk said with a smile.

  Dax slipped outside, turned left, and waited in the alley between the Western Wear shop and the hardware store to see where Mr. Lucas would go. His destination happened to be The Sugar Shack. It seemed as if the whole town did their business there. Whoever owned the place had to be richer than sin.

  A block farther south of the shop, the Mayor popped out of a building. Could be a coincidence, but Dax didn’t believe in them. Walking briskly, Kreplick crossed the street, traveled three blocks to The Sugar Shack, and ducked inside. Hmm. They certainly weren’t going to have a clandestine meeting in there with every gossipmonger looking on.

  Dax would have to wait for them to come out, but he wanted to be ready when they did. It wasn’t like he could waltz in and have a meal since the Mayor would probably drill him again.

  If he wanted to follow them when they came out, he’d need better transportation—and that meant picking up his vehicle at Walt’s garage. He made it there in less than ten minutes.

  “Hey, Dax. You come for your truck?”

  He’d stopped by before and learned the repairs would be done by this morning. “Yes, but do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Don’t tell Jessie my truck’s fixed, or anyone else for that matter.”

  “No problem. Jessie told me you were a big time private eye. You investigatin’ someone?”

  “You could say that. How much do I owe you?” Dax asked as Walt tossed him the keys.

  The old man scratched his head. “Well, the parts were a might expensive, and I did have to put a rush on it. Four hundred should cover it.”

  Dax whistled. That would really strap him for cash. He flipped through his bills, silently counting his stash. “I only have two hundred on me. You take credit?”

  Walt shook his head. “Nope. Can’t afford the fees.”

  He wasn’t surprised. “Can I get you the rest after I go to the bank tomorrow?” His emergency funds could be wired there.

  Walt waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Jessie won’t let you run out on a debt.”

  “No, she wouldn’t.”

  As Walt took Dax’s money, he looked at him with a sly smile. “Let me give you a piece of advice, young man. If you’re hot on Jessie, you’d better be careful.”

  A quick shot of panic made his throat dry. Surely there wasn’t an ex-husband hanging around. “What do you mean?”

  “Jessie’s like a daughter to me, and I wouldn’t want to have to take you down a peg or two if you hurt her any.”

  Dax relaxed and smiled. The whole town was protective of the cute sheriff—all except for the Mayor and a phantom shooter. “I’ll do my best to see that won’t happen.” He managed to say that with a straight face.

  Walt smiled and when Dax jumped in his truck, he saw the man had filled up his tank. Now that was a right friendly thing to do.

  As he pulled out of Walt’s garage, he caught sight of Brian walking out of the small grocery store a block away, laden with a ton of groceries. Now he would be a far more interesting tail than the Mayor or the banker any day.

  Dax pulled over and leaned back against the seat, waiting for Brian to settle into his vehicle. The guy didn’t look right or left as he placed the bags in the truck’s bed. He either was feeding an army or planning to stay holed up in his house for a while.

  Once he finished loading his groceries, Brian took off down the road and stayed well below the speed limit. While there were many explanations for the man’s caution, the most obvious was that he didn’t want to be stopped for speeding because he had something in his truck worth hiding.

  Dax followed at a distance. Given the few roads in Kerry, Brian would be easy to keep in view. The sad part was the guy didn’t seem to have a clue that Dax was behind him. Even stranger was that Brian didn’t act like someone who’d been in the military police. He should have checked his rear view mirror every few minutes, especially if he had something he didn’t want someone to find.

  Instead of being careful, Brian bounced up and down in his cab as though he was listening to some hip-hop station, enjoying th
e day. He hoped for Jessie’s sake that her former boyfriend was clean. Once more, he questioned his own motives for following him. He told himself that the guy had done time for stealing arms, and with all the unresolved crimes in town, Brian just might be guilty of something.

  Liar, liar.

  Fine. Dax wanted to follow Brian to make sure that when Dax went back to Baltimore, Jessie’s ex wouldn’t be a threat to her. Dax had grown fond of the cute little sheriff.

  He followed a half-mile behind for about five miles, but it didn’t take a genius to guess where Brian was headed. The only house in sight was a rundown two-story wooden structure on top of a hill, far away from any neighbors. Jessie had mentioned that Brian’s parents had died and left him the old homestead.

  The sun was slowly setting and Dax cursed his timing. He’d only planned on seeing what the two lovers were up to, not tail Brian, but hey, when opportunity knocked, he had to answer.

  Dax slowed down then pulled onto the berm as Brian continued up the long road to his house. From his vantage point, Dax could see the truck climb the hill, disappear, and then reappear again as he wound around the curves. He’d give Brian a few minutes to get into his house, and then he’d take a look at what he was up to. Not that he expected to find Brian sitting in front of the fire, cleaning his AK-47 assault rifle or anything, but one could never be sure.

  Lights went on in Brian’s house one after the other. Using his high-powered binoculars, Dax watched him step out a side door and head for a large detached garage with a smile on his face.

  Time to get a closer look. Dax jumped back in his truck and eased up the hill, recognizing that he couldn’t get too close or Brian might spot him. When he was about five hundred feet from the house, Dax once again pulled to the side and parked under a large oak tree.

  The sky was turning darker now, forcing Dax to keep vigilant about the time. He should have another thirty minutes of light, but just in case, he grabbed his flashlight, checked to see it worked, and headed up the hill along the tree line.

  As he neared, a door squeaked open, and Brian walked from the detached garage back to his house. Given he’d parked his truck outside, the garage might be full of junk.

  As Dax neared, a strong smell of cat urine assaulted him, and he froze. He was pretty sure the stench didn’t come from animals, not unless Brian had about twenty or more creatures hold up somewhere. He’d bet his P.I. license the smell resulted from a meth lab, and his gut almost revolted.

  Maybe that’s why Brian had come back to Kerry. His house, or rather his parents’ house, was isolated—the perfect location to cook up some illegal substance without getting caught.

  If Dax could get a good look in the guy’s trash, he bet he’d find a shit load of cold tablets, Drano cans, or bronchodilators. Jessie was going to be royally pissed when she learned what Brian was up to, but first, he needed to be certain of the crime before he hauled her up there to arrest him.

  If Brian had any of his assault rifles from his heist, they’d need plenty of backup to take him down. Hopefully, another town could lend a hand. If he had his way, Jessie would stay at the office while Amanda and a few other officers made the arrest, but he was pretty sure Jessie wouldn’t go for it.

  As he snuck up to the garage, Brian’s stereo blasted through the house walls, convincing him Brian wouldn’t hear him. Dax shone his light through the garage window. Bingo. The lab wasn’t big, but it looked sufficient to cook up enough drugs to keep half the teenage population high. He snapped a picture with his cell, but the quality was too poor because of the bad lighting.

  On a long table, he spotted two antifreeze containers, a metal can of paint thinner, several hot plates, and lots of glass beakers. For the shortest moment of time, he wondered if he should ride down the hill and pretend he’d seen nothing, but then realized he couldn’t do that. Honor, duty, and all that bullshit were too ingrained in him.

  Besides, Dax couldn’t let Brian run around free only to chase after Jessie once Dax returned to Baltimore. A strong ache speared his gut, and he recognized something was happening between them that shouldn’t, but he seemed powerless to stop it.

  The house door squeaked open again. Shit, Brian was coming back, which meant it was time to disappear.

  Chapter 16

  By the time Dax parked his truck down the street from Walt’s then drove the cruiser back to Jessie’s, he was beat—more emotionally than physically. He pushed open the front door to Jessie’s house, and the wonderful rich aromas poured out of the kitchen. Because he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, he was starving.

  Margaret’s Cadillac sat in front, yet when he peeked around the entrance into the living room, no one appeared to be home. Then Jessie’s laugh made him stop in mid stride. She and Margaret were in the kitchen. He walked over to the swinging door, and as he placed a palm on the doorjamb, he hesitated. He wanted to think about the best way to break the news of Brian’s crime.

  “Thanks for dinner, Nana. I don’t think I’ve eaten that much in days.” Jessie’s voice came through the door clearly.

  “Don’t thank me, thank Shirley Hoffsteder. She made the chicken casserole.”

  For the next minute, the only sound was the clinking of knives and forks against china plates.

  “Nana, what do you think about going to Irene’s Beauty parlor tomorrow and treating ourselves to a new hairdo? And maybe even a facial and a manicure?”

  His groin tightened, not sure how much more he could handle of the new Jessie. The low cut red dress that hugged her curvy body had already tested his resolve. Add in a new hairdo and he might break.

  “I’d love that, dear, but it’ll be so expensive. It’s why I haven’t had a facial in years.”

  Dax smiled at the easy conversation. He missed having someone to exchange ideas with, feel comfortable around, and just plain enjoy.

  “I know, but with all the stuff that’s been going on, I think you and I deserve to pamper ourselves for once.”

  “You’re right.”

  He bet Jessie was suggesting the spa day, not for herself, but to help take her grandmother’s mind off the recent tragedy. Not wanting to interrupt their bonding moment, he leaned his back against the wall and soaked in the moment of family love.

  “Good. Tomorrow morning, Dax and I need to drive over to Hardy County to pick up something, but when I get back we’ll get beautified.”

  Time to go in.

  “Speaking of Dax, I want to hear all about you two,” Margaret said, her comment stopping him cold.

  “Dax? What’s there to tell?” Jessie coughed, though he couldn’t tell if it was because she had to or if it was to cover up her discomfort. “He’s been... a big help to me with the investigation. Without him, I’m not sure I’d have found Sadie.”

  Her testimony sounded very matter of fact, as if he was nothing more than the hired help.

  “Do you think of him in the same way you thought of Clinton?”

  Dax held his breath, wondering the same thing. That little person inside his head told him to stop eavesdropping. “Shut up,” he mouthed.

  “Nana, you know as well as I do that Clinton was over twenty years older than me and was more of a father figure than anything. Besides, he had a big beer belly, whereas I bet Dax has abs to die for.”

  Abs to die for, huh? He couldn’t help but suck in his gut. Maybe he’d have to find a way to take off his shirt and show her. “Given all those arm muscles, I bet he has a six pack. So how would you describe your relationship with Dax?”

  The resulting silence nearly killed him. Come on. Say Dax is the most remarkable man I’ve ever met.

  “Well, Dax is a lot smarter than Clinton, but both were fine officers.”

  Praise, yes, but not what he wanted to hear.

  “I know all that,” Margaret said. “I mean, tell me about the romance I’ve seen written all over both of your faces. Have you jumped his bones yet?”

  Yes, the romance. Wait a sec. Romance? He�
��d kissed her once. Or rather, she’d kissed him, and while he’d thought of the exchange as romantic, he hadn’t been sure she had.

  “Nana!”

  “What? With such a fine specimen as Mr. Mitchell, I would have thought you’d be dreaming about him, wanting to touch those big, bulging muscles. I’d kill to run my fingers through his thick, soft hair, wouldn’t you? Don’t tell me you don’t find him too sexy for his jeans?”

  Dax almost blew it by laughing out loud.

  “Oh, Nana, you miss Grandpa, don’t you? Ever since he died, you’ve had a one-track mind on sex.”

  “That’s besides the point. Dax Mitchell is one fine catch and you should think about setting a trap for him.”

  “A trap? Maybe that’s how they did it in your day but not mine. I really do appreciate you caring for my well-being, but Dax won’t be staying around forever. Have you forgotten he lives in a different state?”

  “What do you take me for? Don’t answer that. Besides, there’s no law that says he has to go back to Maryland.”

  He wished he could stay, but he had a life in Baltimore, although the more he thought about it, the lonelier that life appeared.

  “If Dax remained in Kerry, what would he do for a living? Construction is out with his bad leg.”

  That was what he wanted to know.

  “Why law enforcement, of course.”

  “What, as my deputy?” Jessie asked. “He’d never work for me. We’d butt heads at every turn.”

  Dax had to agree, though the experiment would be an interesting one.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time a man worked for a woman you know.”

  “Nana, Dax isn’t the type of man to deal with a woman as his boss, though the idea of telling him what to do does appeal to me. I can see it now. He’d be on his knees with me in control. Hmm. Or maybe I should just tie him up.”

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea. I wish I had a man to do that to.”

  Jessie laughed. Dax didn’t. Tie him up indeed. He’d tie her up was what would happen. Spread eagle, he’d lick her until she couldn’t stand it any more, then he’d—