Adam Braxton to Jess, and Jess knew the second he put two and two together.
“Later,” Jess growled again, then focused on Braxton. By the time she finished with him, she was confident he understood very clearly the potential consequences of her swollen mouth.
“What happened to my by-the-books partner?” Kirby demanded the second Braxton left the station. “Forget to mention a few pertinent details?”
“My personal life is just that,” Jess retorted. “Personal.” She was tired, and her head hurt. She wasn’t about to get into this. “I can spend my free time as I choose.”
Kirby blocked her path. He was exceedingly tall, and when he got up close like that, she understood why he’d made more than one suspect wet his pants. “Is that really what Daddy taught you?”
Jess frowned. She was darn tired of everything relating back to her father. “Dad taught me a lot, Kirb. Keep pushing and maybe you’ll find out just how much.”
He shook his head. “You’re my partner. I don’t want to see you fall under Armstrong’s spell. The man is dangerous. I—”
“There you two are.”
Jess swung around to find Commander McKnight striding toward them. Her chest tightened. She knew what was coming. Her dismissal from the case. “Commander—”
“Just got a call from the boys out in Irving,” he said gruffly. The planes of his dignified face were unusually grim. “We’ve got a break in the Armstrong case. There’s been a discovery in a field by the airport.”
Dread almost sent Jess to her knees. She could hardly breathe, much less form the question. “Emily?”
The commander nodded. “They’ve found her car.”
----
Chapter 7
« ^ »
L iam took the street hard and fast. He ran with the focused determination of the sprinter he’d been in college, pumping his arms and keeping his stride long. His feet pounded the cobblestone. Sweat dampened his body, despite the arctic wind blowing from the north. He wore only ratty gym shorts and an old tank top, but he barely felt the sting of the cold.
It was the most alive he’d felt in entirely too long.
By his side, Molly matched his pace. His daughter’s dog ran full throttle, like a retriever chasing her latest prize. Her ears were back, her eyes fevered. She missed her mistress, appreciated the exercise.
Man and dog turned from the main boulevard onto a quiet street in Liam’s neighborhood. Waiting at a stop sign, a young mother with a minivan full of children lifted a hand in greeting.
Liam couldn’t bring himself to wave back.
The realization of how normal he and Molly appeared, man and dog out for an afternoon jog, tore through him. Illusion, he knew. One of the most seductive narcotics known to mankind. The belief that appearances equaled reality.
Not even a man like Liam was immune. He’d been seduced by the fantasy when he built a home for his daughter in one of the most elite areas of Dallas. He’d naively thought the prestige and dignity, the privilege, would rub off on him, clean him, and he’d be able to give Emily the normal, unencumbered childhood she deserved.
He’d never been more wrong in his life.
Violence and tragedy, greed, callousness—they didn’t discriminate based upon address. Beauty often masked ugliness; simplicity could shroud complexity; serenity concealed danger.
But danger came in many forms, he knew, and instantly he thought of Wallace Clark’s daughter. After she’d sashayed out of his office, he’d stood for a long time, watching the door she’d slammed behind her. There was a very real chance he’d never see her again. As soon as the chief met Liam’s demands, which he would, his relationship with the enigmatic detective would come slamming to a halt.
Liam had waited for the satisfaction to ease through him, but instead he’d found himself coiled tighter, like a rattler primed and ready to attack. He was in his car and roaring down the street before sanity intervened.
He had no business
“Later,” Jess growled again, then focused on Braxton. By the time she finished with him, she was confident he understood very clearly the potential consequences of her swollen mouth.
“What happened to my by-the-books partner?” Kirby demanded the second Braxton left the station. “Forget to mention a few pertinent details?”
“My personal life is just that,” Jess retorted. “Personal.” She was tired, and her head hurt. She wasn’t about to get into this. “I can spend my free time as I choose.”
Kirby blocked her path. He was exceedingly tall, and when he got up close like that, she understood why he’d made more than one suspect wet his pants. “Is that really what Daddy taught you?”
Jess frowned. She was darn tired of everything relating back to her father. “Dad taught me a lot, Kirb. Keep pushing and maybe you’ll find out just how much.”
He shook his head. “You’re my partner. I don’t want to see you fall under Armstrong’s spell. The man is dangerous. I—”
“There you two are.”
Jess swung around to find Commander McKnight striding toward them. Her chest tightened. She knew what was coming. Her dismissal from the case. “Commander—”
“Just got a call from the boys out in Irving,” he said gruffly. The planes of his dignified face were unusually grim. “We’ve got a break in the Armstrong case. There’s been a discovery in a field by the airport.”
Dread almost sent Jess to her knees. She could hardly breathe, much less form the question. “Emily?”
The commander nodded. “They’ve found her car.”
----
Chapter 7
« ^ »
L iam took the street hard and fast. He ran with the focused determination of the sprinter he’d been in college, pumping his arms and keeping his stride long. His feet pounded the cobblestone. Sweat dampened his body, despite the arctic wind blowing from the north. He wore only ratty gym shorts and an old tank top, but he barely felt the sting of the cold.
It was the most alive he’d felt in entirely too long.
By his side, Molly matched his pace. His daughter’s dog ran full throttle, like a retriever chasing her latest prize. Her ears were back, her eyes fevered. She missed her mistress, appreciated the exercise.
Man and dog turned from the main boulevard onto a quiet street in Liam’s neighborhood. Waiting at a stop sign, a young mother with a minivan full of children lifted a hand in greeting.
Liam couldn’t bring himself to wave back.
The realization of how normal he and Molly appeared, man and dog out for an afternoon jog, tore through him. Illusion, he knew. One of the most seductive narcotics known to mankind. The belief that appearances equaled reality.
Not even a man like Liam was immune. He’d been seduced by the fantasy when he built a home for his daughter in one of the most elite areas of Dallas. He’d naively thought the prestige and dignity, the privilege, would rub off on him, clean him, and he’d be able to give Emily the normal, unencumbered childhood she deserved.
He’d never been more wrong in his life.
Violence and tragedy, greed, callousness—they didn’t discriminate based upon address. Beauty often masked ugliness; simplicity could shroud complexity; serenity concealed danger.
But danger came in many forms, he knew, and instantly he thought of Wallace Clark’s daughter. After she’d sashayed out of his office, he’d stood for a long time, watching the door she’d slammed behind her. There was a very real chance he’d never see her again. As soon as the chief met Liam’s demands, which he would, his relationship with the enigmatic detective would come slamming to a halt.
Liam had waited for the satisfaction to ease through him, but instead he’d found himself coiled tighter, like a rattler primed and ready to attack. He was in his car and roaring down the street before sanity intervened.
He had no business
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