Page 10 of Too Hot to Sleep
Ken's own experiences were somewhat less dramatic, but he'd tired of vapid women who seemed determined to worm their way into his life regardless of his feelings on the matter. Although he was larger than the average man, he was brighter than most women gave him credit for. Relationships in general were a giant hassle. Last night was the first time he'd had sex with a woman without worrying about whether potpourri would suddenly appear in his bathroom.
Klone took another bite. "All I'm saying is that with a stressful job like this, you need a warm body to go home to every night. Someone to remind you that everyone in this world ain't a criminal. Eighteen years now and Louise and me still do the deed every Friday night duringThe Tonight Show.Well, except for the two times she was in the hospital after the kids were born."
Ken was forced to listen while he chewed the dry burger, then he swallowed. "I can't tell you how much I didn't want to hear that. And don't talk with your mouth full, for Crissake."
Klone made a perfunctory swipe at his mouth with a wadded-up paper napkin. "I'm just concerned about what you're doing with your life. You don't have to get all aggravated."
Immediately contrite, Ken ground his teeth, then said, "Klone, Ilikebeing single."
His partner shook his head and expelled a grave sigh. "Son, someday you're gonna learn the hard way that we can't always have things the way we like them."
Ken banked the half-eaten burger into a trash can, trying to block out the voice of Georgia the mysterious phone seductress.I'm not wearing panties.That, he liked. "Where does the Fleming burglary case stand?"
Klone shifted in his seat, oblivious to Ken's strategy to change the subject. He held up a smudged piece of paper with a dollop of mayonnaise on the corner. "I got a tip to check out a pawnshop for some of the missing jewelry."
Ken took the piece of paper, heedful of the mayonnaise and his navy uniform shirt, then pushed himself to his feet. "I'll look into it."
Klone half stood. "You want some company?"
"No, I volunteered to pull truancy duty at the mall this afternoon, and this place is on the way."
His partner made a face. "Better you pulling truancy than me."
"My good deed for the week," Ken agreed wryly. "Catch you later." On the way out of the station, he stopped by the locker room to brush his teeth. The small square mirror reflected sharp cheekbones—probably due to his lousy appetite of late—and his dark hair seemed more unruly than ever, despite his efforts to keep the length short enough to curtail the curl. Damned humidity.
But for once, his dark eyes weren't red-rimmed, and his neck didn't have a crick in it. His persistent insomnia had affected him more than he'd realized, leaving him restless and irritable and susceptible to behavior in which he wouldn't normally indulge.
Such as pretending to be the deserving boyfriend of a woman who was more passionate than anyone he'd ever dated.
He banged his locker door closed, then exited to the parking garage, whistling tunelessly in an attempt to stop himself from thinking about how he could find the woman on the phone. After swinging into his squad car, he checked the dash equipment, then started the engine and pulled out onto a side street. No sir, he wasn't about to consider ways he could use the resources at his disposal to find out who she was.
Like checking the dozen or so Birmingham strip joints for a dancer named Georgia.
Like performing a computer search on the city directory database for female residents named Georgia.
Like checking his own phone records to see from where the call had originated.
He thumped the steering wheel in frustration, hating himself for allowing the unknown caller to get under his skin. It was no big deal, he told himself as he wheeled into the parking lot of the pawnshop. Because the woman was nobody to him and probably wouldn't give the incident much thought even after she discovered the blunder. And because the woman was a nymphette who had more interesting things going on in her life than worrying about the schmuck who had filched a freebie. No, he really shouldn't be concerned that the woman might be disturbed when she realized her mistake.
So, why was he?
With much effort, Ken blocked out the voice of the seductive caller to take care of the tasks at hand. The stop into the pawnshop proved to be fruitful. Based on the written descriptions from the burglarized homeowner, he recovered two rings and a bracelet, along with the bad Polaroid photo of the woman who had pawned the pieces. He locked the bagged articles in the trunk of his car, then slid behind the steering wheel, suddenly looking forward to truancy duty, despite the smart mouths of the hooky-playing teens he would inevitablyfind walking the corridors of the mall and hanging out in the parking lot. Kids could be puzzling these days, but he had a good motivator—the memory of the cop who had routed his own behind out of an arcade twenty years ago and harassed him back into high school.
Ken eased into fast-moving traffic—drivers were always willing to let a police car merge—then turned in the direction of the mall. Out of the corner of his eye, Ken saw a small figure dart into the street directly in his path. His heart vaulted to his throat as he slammed on the brake so hard he was sure he would trigger a pileup. A sickeningthunksounded as his front left bumper made contact with a yielding body. Horns blasted all around him. Miraculously, the truck behind him stopped with no impact. Immediately Ken flipped on the blue lights, then sprang from his seat, praying every step of the way.
Fear nearly paralyzed him when he saw blood on his car and the lifeless form on the street. Two seconds later his knees weakened with relief that he hadn't hit a child. Still, the sight of the large dog lying beneath his bumper put a stone in his stomach. His hands shook slightly as he touched the animal to see if it was alive.
It was. Although he didn't know much about dogs, this one appeared to be a mutt. Multicolored long hair covered its body, although its face was broad and blunt. He wore no collar. When Ken stroked its back, the dog opened his eyes and whined, then tried to stand, only to collapse, emitting painful little barks.
"Sorry, boy," he murmured, aware of a crowd gathering around. One of the dog's legs bent at an odd angle, and he was bleeding from the hip. Gathering his wits, Ken looked around and spied the entrance to the County Hospital emergency room less than a half block away. Perhaps someone there could at least stop the bleeding until he could transport the dog to a veterinary clinic.
Decision made, he tied a handkerchief around the dog's muzzle to keep him from biting in his pain, then bundled the dog into the back seat of his squad car. He covered its trembling form with a blanket from the trunk, knowing the gesture probably gave him more comfort that it gave the dog. He hoped against hope he hadn't mortally wounded the poor pooch. Ken slid into his seat, and zeroed in on the emergency room entrance.
He'd find help there.
Chapter 5
"SEE YOUtomorrow," Georgia called to a co-worker as she walked toward the E.R. exit.
