Unbound (Crimson Romance) (12 page)

• • •

“Dean, my man,” Kalvin called out as Dean stepped into the police station.

“Don’t you ever work?” He made his way to the back of the room toward Kalvin and the ever-suffering Officer Smith.

“Sometimes,” Kalvin told him when he stopped next to Smith’s desk.

“Never,” Smith protested.

“So, I heard you whacked Payten,” Kalvin said.

He scowled. “I did not.”

“I know. Just thought I’d let you know the rumor.”

“It could be worse,” Smith told him.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, it apparently could be. One Ms. Taylor called here about an hour ago demanding that we retrieve Payten’s body from your home so her parents could give her a good Christian burial,” Smith told him with a grin. “How cool is that? I’m loving this small-town gossip thing.”

“Jesus,” Dean muttered.

“That’s not even the best one,” Kalvin said happily. “Kayla told Jack some really crazy one this morning about you being the one who butchered the dog.”

“Are you telling me — ”

“Yup.” Kalvin laughed.

“For God’s sake!” he muttered.

The door to his dad’s office opened, and Burke stepped out. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to pull Kayla Hamilton’s hair out by the roots,” Dean said.

“That would be an assault charge to add to your murder charge.” Burke grinned.

“You’re such a dick,” Dean said.

Burke laughed. “I know. Come on in here. You can give your dad your statement.”

The door to the building opened again. Bridgett, followed by her fiancé, stepped into the station.

“Hello,” Bridgett called.

Burke walked to the front to meet her and Michael. He steered them toward one of the desks there.

“I’m going…” Dean pointed in the direction of his dad’s office.

“You do that,” Smith said.

Dean moved slowly toward the office, but the walk was short. He tapped gently on the open door. His dad sat at his desk. He glanced up when Dean knocked.

He waved him in. “Grab a seat.”

Dean sat down across from the desk. He was uncomfortable in the office. He had been since his parents had divorced. This office wasn’t the one his father had been in at that time. The police station had once been housed in the city hall. It had been a couple years since the officers had moved into their current station.

Still, looking at the beat-up furniture that had made the move with his dad to the new office, he could remember what things had been like before the divorce. He could see his dad pushing papers at his battered desk while his mother moved in and out of the office. He remembered rolling toy trucks across the uneven coffee table his dad had shoved back in a corner. He could almost hear his mother laugh while she teased his dad about the dying plants in the window. The lumpy, ugly orange chair he sat in had been his time-out chair more times than he could remember.

Nearly every time Dean had to sit in that god-forsaken office, he had a nightmare. It made him avoid the office and everything in it, including his dad.

“Can we get this over with? I want to get Payten’s place cleaned up for her.”

Carl shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dean, but that won’t be possible.”

“What?”

“Officer Smith wants to get a team in from the city to run forensics,” Carl replied. “Rykers and Pierce agree.”

“What good is forensics going to do? The blood is the dog’s, right? You already know whose dog it was.”

Carl shifted in his chair. “We’re hoping he left something of himself at the scene. Fingerprints, maybe he cut himself while butchering the dog, something like that.”

“Is that likely?”

Carl shrugged. “We won’t know unless we try. We’ve got nothing else to go on. This is a long shot, but we have to try.”

“When can Payten have her house back?”

“I don’t know. Not until the end of the week at the earliest, and that’s just a guess.”

“Fine. I’ll tell Payten.” He got up to leave.

“I need to take your statement.”

Grinding his teeth, he sat back down. He watched his dad turn on the small recorder lying on his desk. He had never been one for taking notes.

“When did you arrive at Payten’s house last night?”

“A little before eight. I was early.”

“Aren’t you always?” Carl asked. “Why were you there?”

“Is that really important?”

Carl shrugged.

He sighed. “I had a date with Payten last night. I picked her up a little before eight. We went to Smitty’s. The band played, we danced, and we went back to her house. We got there a little before eleven-thirty. We hung out in the kitchen until almost one. We said goodbye, and I went home. When I got there, Burke was calling telling me to get my ass back. Good enough?”

“Almost. You told Burke the door was unlocked when you got there?” Carl asked.

“It was. I didn’t think about it at the time, but it was.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Dean answered.

“Did you notice anything else unusual? Things moved around? Shades open that shouldn’t have been?”

“No. I wasn’t looking, though. Are we done?”

Carl nodded. “Good enough. You can go.”

“Can Payten get some clothes and stuff out of the house?”

“No. No one should be in the house until after the forensic team goes through it.”

“Call me when they’re done, okay?” Dean asked.

He nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Dean stood and paced the small space of the office.

“What is it?”

“This isn’t just a kids’ prank,” Dean answered. “The phone calls, maybe. What they did to the dog? That note?” He shook his head. “What is this, Dad?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of stalker, maybe. Maybe it started as a prank and escalated out of control. I honestly don’t know.”

“It’s serious, though, right?”

“Yes,” Carl answered immediately. “Personally, I would make sure Payten isn’t left by herself for any extended period of time. We’re working on something, but — If I were you, I’d stay with her, Dean.”

He nodded and moved to leave the office. He paused in the doorway. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“You’re sure this can’t be — ”

“It’s not. Don’t make this worse on yourself,” Carl warned. “He’s in prison. It’s not him. Move on.”

• • •

On the short walk back to the diner, Dean thought about what to tell Payten. He knew she would be disappointed about not being able to stay in her house, and he thought convincing her to stay with him might be a challenge.

He opened the door of the diner and stepped in as the bell on the door rang. Smiling at Payten when she looked up, he pointed toward the back. She smiled and nodded in return. On his way toward the kitchen, several customers stopped him, wanting to talk. He spent a few minutes with each of them, dodging the topic of what had happened at Payten’s house before moving on.

When he reached the kitchen, Teddy stood at the grill where he’d been when Dean left earlier. Sarah stood at the sink doing dishes. She hadn’t been there when he left.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Dean,” Sarah answered. “You talk to your dad?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

“Payten told us what happened before Teddy walked her over this morning,” Sarah said. “We really don’t want Payten staying by herself after what happened. Would you mind staying with her?”

“Jeez, Mom,” Payten exclaimed. “Could you make me sound any more desperate?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were standing there.”

Payten had walked up while Sarah talked. Dean knew the instant Payten showed up because she had pressed herself up against his back. She’d peeked her head around his side to talk to Sarah. It pressed her body even tighter against his.

“Let’s go outside,” Payten said, poking his back. “You can tell me what your dad said.”

“You two can head on home if you want,” Teddy told them. “We’ve got it here, and you’ve both had a long night.”

“But it’s Sunday,” Dean protested.

“So?” Teddy asked.

“You two don’t work Sundays,” Dean said.

“I think just this one won’t kill us,” Sarah teased.

“Outside,” Payten ordered. “Quick, before they change their minds.”

Dean moved past Teddy and around Sarah toward the door. Payten hugged her father and kissed her mother’s cheek as she followed. At the door, she took off her apron and put it up. She grabbed her coat, motioning Dean out the door.

“Bye,” Dean said.

“Bye, Dean,” Sarah said.

“Hurry much?” Dean asked as Payten pulled the door closed behind her.

“Yes,” she replied. “If one more person asks me why I’m not dead, I may drop a plate in their lap.”

He laughed.

“I’m serious,” she said. “What a yucky day.”

“Yucky?”

She frowned at him. “It was.”

“I don’t think you can say day, either. It’s not even noon.”

She frowned and glanced at her watch. “Bleck,” she groaned when she saw he was right.

“Well, to add to it, Dad won’t give you back your house.” He steered her toward his truck. “On a brighter side, you can stay with me.”

“Oh. Umm…”

“Dad wants you to stay with someone until they can figure out what to do,” he told her. “My house is as good as any.”

“I could stay with my parents.”

He nodded. “You could, but it might put them in danger.”

They came to a stop next to the truck.

“Wouldn’t staying with you put you in danger too?” she asked.

Hadn’t thought of that one.
He’d figured he could convince her to stay with him by convincing her it was dangerous for her parents. He hadn’t considered she’d be worried about him.

“It might, but I’m a lot meaner than your parents.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure your fierce attitude will scare Mr. Stalker away.”

“Maybe we’ll just let him wake you up,” he teased. “That’ll terrify him.”

“Hey!”

He laughed as he opened her door. “Hop in.”

She did, but she grumbled. “I’m not sure I like you.”

“I’m fine with that. We’ll stop at your parents’ so you can get your stuff before we head out of town.”

“I need to go to my place,” she told him.

“You can’t. Dad is going to try to get a forensic team from the city to come out and take a look at your place. He says it’s a long shot, but maybe he cut himself or left fingerprints or something.”

“That’s just great,” she muttered.

“Do you have some more clothes at your parents’ house?”

“Yeah, but I wanted my purse. It’s at my house.”

“I’ll call Dad later and see if there’s any way to make that happen,” he offered. “Don’t get your hopes up, though.”

“I’m still having trouble processing that someone was actually in my house. That really freaks me out,” she said. “This really isn’t just a prank, is it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Someone is after me, which is freaky enough, but I don’t even know why,” she said. “If I could figure out why, maybe I could figure out who it is. I’ve got no idea, though.”

• • •

Carl Whitley sat at his desk with his telephone against his ear when Bridgett opened the door and peeked in. He spotted her and waved her in. She moved quietly into his office, closing the door behind her. Sitting down in the chair across from his desk, she waited patiently for him to finish his call.

“Thank you for this, Marcus. I appreciate it.” He paused. “I can do that. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up the phone and sighed. “That man is crazy.”

“Who was it?” Bridgett asked.

“Marcus is the head of the forensic team from Springfield. We met before Dean was born. He’s agreed to come out tomorrow.”

“Good news?”

“Great news. Usually they don’t come at all. If they do, it takes weeks to get results back. It only cost me two bottles of bourbon to convince him.”

Bridgett laughed. “Just two?”

“It’s good bourbon. Besides, it’s probably been a slow month for them. What can I do for you, Ms. Denver?”

“Not call me that,” she replied.

He chuckled. “What else do you need?”

“I was wondering when Payten was going to get her place back.”

“I don’t know yet. Why?” he asked.

“Could you call me as soon as they’re done? I want to clean it up for her. She shouldn’t have to.”

“I think they have a team that cleans up the… Well, the mess,” he told her.

“Oh. That’s a relief,” she said. “Still, the girls and I would like to paint and redress her room. We don’t want to leave any reminders.”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her. “That’s nice of you girls.”

“We’re friends.” She shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

“Dean wanted me to call him first.”

“That’s nice, but Dean probably wants to change the locks and install motion lights. He’s a guy. He doesn’t think the way we do.”

“Tell you what. I’ll call you when the forensic team is done, but I’m calling Dean right after that,” he told her. “You’ll have to argue with him about who’s doing what. How does that sound?”

“Great.” She stood and headed for the door. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.”

When the door closed behind her, he leaned farther back in his chair and stretched. He propped his feet on the corner of his desk and folded his hands behind his head. Staring at the ceiling, he decided he was getting old.

He had been up since early morning the day before. After spending the early hours of the morning dealing with the mess at Payten’s house and listening to his officers debate the merits of calling for a forensic team, he hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d headed for the police station instead. He’d been filling out reports until Dean showed up.

He didn’t understand his son. That was probably his own fault. He should have paid more attention to him after his mother’s death. By the time he’d been able to push the pain of Liv’s death away enough to cope, Dean didn’t look to him for answers. He didn’t look to him for anything.

Carl had gone to therapy with Dean thinking it would help. The therapy hadn’t helped either of them. He had stopped going when Dean asked him. He also stopped taking Dean when he didn’t want to go anymore. Maybe that had been the wrong decision.

He knew his son had nightmares. He knew his son was having nightmares when he moved out at eighteen. He didn’t tell Dean. He allowed him his privacy, but he knew. He didn’t know if Dean still had the nightmares, but he recognized the bone-tired look he’d had on his face earlier that afternoon.