Page 11 of Soul Deep

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Chapter Ten

Detective Janet Sanford walked back to the meeting room with a shake of her head and a sigh of disappointment. She’d been hoping to have a word with the scarred blonde. The growl that the woman had emitted earlier had definitely tripped Janet’s radar and upped the woman to the top of her suspects list. At least she had been able to get the plate number off the vehicle before the woman disappeared – so, bright side.

Not that she was ruling anyone else out. There were plenty of others tonight who had gotten Janet’s senses tingling. The black and purple haired Goth type with the leather jacket who currently had an arm thrown around the shoulders of one of the other women, was radiating enough hostility to heat a city block. While others in the room were showing various degrees of anger, fear, and twitchy nervousness. Not that Janet could blame them. After listening to some of the stories that were shared tonight, Janet was feeling on edge herself; could even begin to see how someone who came week after week, hearing story after story, may decide to take matters into their own hands. Janet would be the first to admit that the justice system, in matters of spousal abuse, was flawed. Not that that gave them the right to go above it, but when a restraining order was the best these women could hope for… at the end of the day, it was no better in protecting these women than the paper it was printed on.

“Detective Sanford?”

Janet turned her head and looked down into the blotchy and tear stained face of Jordan Duncan. The woman looked a complete wreck, her light blonde hair didn’t look like it had seen a comb in days, her blue eyes were puffy, red-rimmed and blood shot, and her clothes were mismatched, wrinkled, with a dark brown stain down the front like she had dribbled coffee. Poor woman was only in her twenties, but the recent murder of her ex-husband had aged her in a matter of days. “How are you holding up?”

Jordan shook her head and sniffed loudly, her lips pinched tight together for a moment to hold back a fresh wave of emotion before she cleared her throat. “Did you have more questions for me? Is that why you’re here?”

Satisfied with the initial interview and her own gut feeling that Jordan Duncan was innocent of her husband’s murder, she hadn’t actually come to question her further, but had been prepared for just this circumstance. “I was hoping you may have thought of someone who might have wanted to hurt your husband now that you’ve had a few days to process things.”

Jordan hugged her arms around her torso and shook her head. “I wasn’t involved in that part of his life. It was one of the reasons why I left. But when I was there, I didn’t approve so I made sure I wasn’t in the room when any of his customers came. I never saw any of them.”

Janet nodded. “Do you remember hearing any names, maybe when he was talking on the phone?”

Another shake of the head. “He texted a lot.”

Janet knew that, but it was nice to know her instincts were correct with this woman in that she was willing to help in their investigation. They’d recovered the cell phone at the crime scene. Most of the messages were some sort of juvenile code system – easily deciphered – like Stanley Duncan had wanted to play double-oh-seven but didn’t have the mental capacity to come up with anything original.

Doctor Hillary chose that moment to join them and put a supportive arm around Jordan while eyeing Janet with a serene smile. “How is everyone over here?”

Janet nodded while Jordan gripped the doctor’s hand as if it were a lifeline. The two of them spoke in hushed tones, nothing actually secret in their words, mostly commiseration and assurances from the doctor.

The more Janet watched, the more she wondered if Doctor Hillary wasn’t high on something. Perhaps an unkind thought, but she’d learned long ago to trust her instincts, and Doctor Hillary was tripping a few of them right now. Of course, it was her job to be suspicious of everyone and everything, butsomethingjust wasn’t natural about the woman’s demeanor. Janet had been raised in a neighborhood where everyone was loud and in-your-face with their opinions. Where neighbors had had no problem pulling someone else’s kid aside and slapping their ass if they misbehaved – even grounding them. People got angry, for themselves and for slights, real or imagined, against others – they picked up the gauntlet when needed, they cried, they screamed, they mourned… The only ones who had ever been as calm as Doctor Hillary had been throughout this entire meeting, and even now with grief staring her in the face, were the ones who had been too hopped up on drugs to care. Even now, as part of the law enforcement community, things weren’t all that much different. People – officers – got upset, it was just the way they were wired. Because they were invested, because they cared. But apparently that wasn’t the case for Doctor Hillary. Yes, her instincts were definitely tingling and she narrowed her eyes to further inspect the good doctor. Was it the training? Was this therapist so good that she could remove herself so completely from the pain of her patients in order to do her job? Plausible. Maybe a bit unnatural in Janet’s thinking and experience – though she’d be the first to admit to being biased – but definitely not outside of the realm of possibility.

“Separated, divorced, or widowed?” A belligerent voice demanded from Janet’s other side and she turned her head in that direction.

Now, this one truly had Janet’s instincts jumping up and down in warning and her radar pinging all the possible suspect points. The air of aggression, the cold, calculating eyes, the body language that screamed hostility… it all made her want to look deeper into this woman’s background and see if she could shake something loose. Eyeing the dark haired woman in the black biker jacket with interest, Janet raised a brow. “I’m sorry?”

“The guy who smacked you around.” The brunette shot a look up and down Janet’s frame. “Or woman, whatever.” She lifted one leather clad shoulder in a casual shrug. “Abuse is an equal opportunity bitch as far as I’m concerned. So, what’s your story?”

Doctor Hillary chose to intercede at the point, that unshakable calm still in place. “Andy, let’s not put anyone on the spot. She’ll share when and if she’s ready.” Then turning to look at Janet, “Perhaps next week?”

Janet shook off the rather childish urge to poke the doctor to see if her expression would change and glanced quickly at the mulish expression on the brunette, then the ducked head of Jordan Duncan.

“Perhaps,” was her noncommittal reply but her gut was screaming.Somethingwas going on here. Her gut was rarely wrong, and even if it had nothing to do with her current case, she had every intention of finding out just what that something was...

Lily was ready for that rematch. She didn’t care that it was almost full-dark by the time she got home from the group session and her epic display of idiocy. She knew her regular patrol wouldn’t be enough to burn off this feeling rolling in her gut. Tonight, she needed to work out her aggressions on a body that could take it and give back as good as he got.

Since their last match had ended so spectacularly bad, Christian hadn’t pushed for that rematch he’d proposed on the bag of take-out. And while he’d started to show up again for his regular breakfast at the diner, smiled, occasionally teased with some good-natured banter, he’d definitely been treating her with kid gloves.

Tonight, those gloves needed to come off. She needed the workout he could give her, so when she spotted him outside of his cabin, illuminated by those god-awful bright work lights, she didn’t hesitate – dropping into a crouch, her eyes trained on that big body as he bent over to seal the lid back on a paint can, she crept forward, a grin of anticipation stretching her lips. Slowly… Carefully… As soon as he lifted his head to sniff the air, she pounced.

Her weight and the momentum behind it knocked him off balance with a grunt and they rolled once before he easily pinned her to the ground. With a wicked grin of his own, Christian let out a little growl of approval. “Well, it’s about time.”

Lifting his weight off of her, he stood and offered her a hand up before he settled into a fighting stance. “Let’s do this.”

In complete agreement, Lily leapt into action.

Christian could taste blood after a sharp elbow connected with his mouth. They’d knocked over the paint can, been tangled up in the orange extension cord and managed to extinguish the bright work lights, and they rolled in a heap of limbs to take out a section of the split rail fence. Lily was fierce tonight as she worked him over, the aggression a tangible force of the demons that haunted her. Though he knew she still had control. The absence of claws made that clear, but man, Lily Oremun was definitely stronger than her lithe form indicated. Christian took it all. Maybe part of him welcomed the pounding as punishment for his past misdeeds, but mostly he felt the need to help this female – his female – work through her anger, and maybe, just maybe, come out feeling better on the other side. If he could do that for her, it was worth a few aches and pains.

Spent, they lay on their backs in the cool, slightly damp, sweet smelling grass, both of their chests heaving with each labored breath as they looked up at the stars enjoying a companionable silence while they recovered from their exertions.

It was Lily who finally broke the silence. “I growled tonight. In front of a bunch of human women.”

Christian turned his head to look at her, but Lily kept her eyes on the sky as she continued. “I belong to a support group.” Finally, she looked at him, “I was mated. Did you know that?”

He hadn’t, but before he could say a word, Lily’s face settled into hard lines of challenge, her eyes narrowing. “And he hurt me.”