Page 6 of Heat of Justice (Duty #3)

Cody watched her leave. Reed walked proudly and, some might say, with a hint of arrogance in the tilt of her head. Like she did own the place, and everyone in it as well. Except that now, Cody knew a lot more about what was going on with her under the surface than Reed let on. She went back to her office, cast a thoughtful glance at the empty crime board, and decided that she would take a look into the Cassie Winters case after all. Swinging by the woman’s apartment on the way home seemed like a good idea to kick things off.

“Later, Lance,” she tossed on her way out.

“See ya.” He nodded and rolled his eyes as the phone went off again. “Fun never stops.”

“Come on, you love it.”

“Yeah, right. Watch out for the crazies out there.”

“Of course not; where would be the fun in that?”

He laughed and waved her off. Thirty minutes later, Cody parked her unmarked unit in front of a two-story building on the outskirts of what used to be Lewiston town. Now it was referred to as old- Lewiston, to differentiate it from the sprawling urban area that had sprung all around it. Lewiston used to be a surfer town. Low on crime, easy on the families who lived there. Now, part of it attracted rich people who could afford the old homes and sprawling mansions with striking views of the ocean. The other part, where Cody hoped to find Cassie Winters alive and well, was a little more run-down. Definitely grittier. Surfers still hung around the place, also popular with a number of artists, and the odd drug dealer. Cody took a second to assess her surroundings as she got out of her vehicle. The apartment building appeared in fairly good nick. Of course, there was graffiti on the side, and the front door’s locking mechanism seemed to be busted. She’d seen a lot worse. Inside, she opted for the stairs instead of the tired-looking elevator. Music, the sound of a TV, or a crying baby, could be heard from behind some of the doors she passed. She paused in front of Cassie Winters’ apartment and had a quick listen. Male voices. Sounded like a group of them in there. Cody knocked once and stepped out of the line of the spy hole while she waited. It did not take long.

“Yo!” The door swung open on a lingering cloud of cigar smoke. A stocky, balding guy about six feet tall, dressed in blue jeans and a grey tank top that may have once been white, eyed her speculatively. “Huh. You’re not the pizza guy.”

“Correct, I’m not.” She lifted one side of her shirt to display the badge on her belt. “Detective Cody Miller, Lewiston P.D. I’m looking for Jack Winters.”

“Yeah, he’s in.” As he said this, the man also raked his eyes all over her from top to bottom.

“Problem?” she asked, as he looked baffled.

She also did not like the way that he fixed her.

“No, no.” He shrugged. “You’re not what I expected, but come on in.”

Alert and ready, she walked in after him into the darkened apartment. It stank of cigar smoke and cheap alcohol. The source of it all was the kitchen, where three other men sat around a table, playing cards. A reasonable stack of twenty-dollar bills was piled in the middle. Empty beer bottles lined the counter; Cody spotted some on the floor next to their chairs. The men all looked pretty much the same. Big beefy guys who may have been athletic and healthy once upon a time. Judging from their current appearance, Cody bet none of them had seen the inside of a gym in a good few years. The only lifting they did now probably just involved beer bottles.

“Jack Winters?” she repeated.

“That’s me.” The one directly in front of her leaned back in his chair to give her the same sort of once-over that the first one had.

“Huh,” he grunted when she introduced herself. “They run out of Pamela Anderson or what?”

His buddies all laughed. Inside joke? Cody wondered. It was clearly at her expense. Their eyes roaming all over her were like little critters crawling on her skin, and she fought the impulse to shiver.

“Anyway, go on,” he grunted, staring at her breasts.

“I’m sorry?”

“Let’s see what you got under there.”

Cody did not smile when he grabbed his crotch.

“I’m here to see your wife,” she informed him.

“Huh?” He frowned as if she were speaking Chinese.

“Your wife, Cassie.”

“You’re not the stripper?”

Jesus! Cody’s heart briefly went out to the woman who was going to show up here to entertain this bunch of thickos. Just like pizza and beer, they would consider her as a commodity instead of a real human being. Some thing, instead of someone, that they could just place an order for.

“Detective Miller, Lewiston P.D.,” she repeated sharply. “Is your wife here, Mr. Winters?”

“Pfft. ‘Course she ain’t here.” One of the friends snorted as if the question were a personal insult to him. “This is our poker night. Right, Jack?”

“Right,” Winters approved in a jovial tone.

His eyes never left her face, though, and they told a different story. His gaze was cold, calculating. Cody watched it linger, no longer on her breasts but on the concealed weapon under her shirt. She was glad he was aware of its presence.

“Let’s talk in private, shall we?” she invited.

He dragged his feet to the main lounge, no doubt wanting to signal with this that her presence was a huge inconvenience. As if she cared. While he dropped his heavy frame in the middle of the L-shaped sofa that lined the corner, she looked for signs that a woman also lived in this space. A single flower drooped over the rim of a long-necked glass vase on the windowsill. Dead flower, Cody noted, and hoped it was not a sign of things to come. One of the cushions that Winters carelessly used as a prop for his booted foot was the same cream color as the carpet, minus a few stains. Someone may have tried to accessorize a bit in here; fair to say it was not him.

“Where is your wife, Mr. Winters?” Cody asked.

“Hell if I know,” was his reply.

“Does she live here with you?”

“Huh.”

“Was that a yes?”

“Nah.”

Though he did not smile, she could see he took pleasure in controlling the exchange. Thought he was in charge. It would be her pleasure to demonstrate otherwise.

“I suggest you cooperate with me right here and now, Mr. Winters,” she advised him. “Or, if you prefer, I can put you in handcuffs and drive you to the station. You can cooperate there in the morning, seeing as it’ll be too late by then to continue this interview.”

“She used to live here,” he said with a snarl.

“When did she leave? And why?”

“Day before yesterday, and I don’t have a clue. Bitch always threatens to leave me.”

“Mm. Why is that?”

“Couldn’t tell you.” The exaggerated look of innocence on his face told her he knew she knew he was lying. And did not give a damn about it. “I work my butt off to give the woman a good life, but she ain’t showing much gratitude in return.”

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Winters?”

“Construction. I’m a bricklayer.”

His hands were the size of dinner plates, with thick fingers that looked like meaty sausages. The muscles in his arms were not as well-defined as they may once have been, but he was built like an ox and still powerful. Cody figured even just a slap from a guy like him would easily knock a small woman out. He struck her as the type who would abuse his power.

“So, Cassie left the day before yesterday?” she prompted.

“Yup.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“Nope. Good riddance. She divorced me once, you know? I won’t take her back this time. She wants to go, she can go. Didn’t even leave me a note. Now, that’s cold.”

She wasn’t buying his version of events.

“Has it occurred to you that something may have happened to her?”

His eyes went wide. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Winters. You tell me.”

“Hang on a minute… Are you accusing me of something?”

His outrage also came across as fake. She noticed he seemed to be enjoying toying with her, or, again, thinking he could. What an asshole. Well. Two could play this game.

“Do you hit your wife, Mr. Winters?”

“Of course, I don’t.” No shock there, she noticed. As if he’d been asked the question once or twice before and automatically delivered a rehearsed answer. “I love my wife. She has a bunch of issues, but…”

“What issues?”

“Mental.” He tapped his temple with his index finger. “You know what I mean. Seems to be the thing these days. Anxiety. Personally, I work too hard to be affected. Don’t have time for this shit.”

“Is your wife on medication?”

“Nah. Just goes to show it ain’t that serious.” He laced his nod with a cold smile. “Women tend to be that way, don’t they? I think they called it hysteria in the old times. Weak in the mind. Poor things.”

His thinly veiled insult slid off Cody like water off a duck’s back. She was beginning to feel intense dislike for this guy, but it was not personal. She dealt with men like him all the time in her job. Being an asshole was not a crime.

“Do you have any idea of where your wife could be?” she repeated.

“Nope.”

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“Hope so.” He grinned. “Sure. I wish her the best.”

“Do you even care that she’s missing?”

“Why should I? She’ll come groveling back when she runs out of cash. And when she does, I’ll be glad to tell her to keep on going.” He was curious about one thing. “So, someone reported her missing?”

His tone was light, but Cody watched his eyes sharpen. She noted a flicker of temper across his gaze, quickly brought under control. It occurred to her that it might not take much to light this guy’s fuse, and that he would be dangerous, if and when this happened.

“Something like that, yes,” she told him.

“Mm… Who was it?”

“A friend.”

“Right.” He sneered, cold and cruel. “Funny that, I didn’t think Cass had any friends.”

◆◆◆

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Quinn woke up to a gentle kiss on her cheek, a silky strand of coconut-scented hair drifting tantalizingly across her face, and warm fingers massaging her shoulders. Lia…

“Mm…” Not fully awake yet, she smiled. Started to stretch and roll over, then caught a ray of sunlight across the room that made her blink in alarm. “Oh… Shit!”

She nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Lia said instantly, in a reassuring tone.

“It’s morning!”

“Yes. And?”

“I missed my run. I’m going to be late for—”

It hit her then like a ton of bricks. Suspended. No work today. Maybe not for a long time… A rush of emotion grabbed her by the throat, and tears stung the back of her eyes. Quinn covered her face with one arm.

“It’s okay,” Lia repeated as she, very gently, pulled her arm away. “Babe. It’s going to be fine.”

“Yes... Yes.” Quinn took a deep breath and blew it out. Then again. She placed her own hand on the one that Lia kept on her chest, right above her heart.

“Alright, baby?”

“Yes. Sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry.” Lia leaned in to press her lips over hers. “You woke up, and it hit you all over again?”

“Yes. That exactly. What time is it?”

“Eight o’clock. And yes, you did miss your run.”

“Why didn’t you shake me?”

“Because you didn’t hear the alarm, and you were sleeping like a rock. I figured you needed some rest, and I’d let you take it.” Lia caressed her cheek with the back of her folded knuckles. “Plus, I enjoyed watching you sleep. Watching over you and keeping you safe.”

No job-related stress would ever match the emotion Quinn felt rushing through her at these words.

“You know, I would never let a woman do this in the past.”

“I know that, yes.” Lia fixed her with a pensive smile. “You are the selfless kind who prefers to watch over others. The sort of cop who’ll always keep everyone safe, no matter what it may cost you.”

“You make me sound way more heroic than I am.”

“I don’t think so. I know you, Quinn.”

“Maybe I just didn’t like sleeping with strangers before,” Quinn attempted to tease. “Yeah, I’m a cop. You bet. I know how crazy even so-called sane, normal people can be.”

“You didn’t like to feel vulnerable,” Lia reflected. “I guess you still don’t, hmm?”

“That’s only partly true.”