Page 8 of Heat of Justice (Duty #3)

“He told me Cassie has mental health issues.” Cody reminded herself to speak in the present tense about the woman. At this time, Cassie Winters’ whereabouts were not known. This made her a missing person, not a dead one. “Can you confirm or deny this?”

Reed’s golden-brown eyes flashed again, this time in fury.

“No, she does not have mental health issues. The only thing Cassie suffered from was an abusive asshole of a husband. Of course, he would tell you otherwise! She was terrified of him, Detective, but also lucid and smart enough to realize that it was time, finally, to break free of the relationship.” She slapped an open palm on the table. “And take action on it despite her fear, for God’s sake! In my opinion, this makes her wise. And brave. Not crazy. Jesus!”

She drained the rest of her wine as she finished the rant and stared hard as if daring her to object. Cody had no intention or desire to do so.

“I agree with you, Ms. Reed,” she answered in a calm voice. “You’re preaching to the choir here.”

Reed eyed her fiercely a moment longer, then her shoulders dropped, and she let out a heavy sigh.

“Shooting the messenger, more like. I’m sorry, Detective, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay. No problem.”

“You’re very kind. What happens next?”

This part, Cody suspected, was bound to be tricky for the woman to accept.

“You know, sometimes, people disappear who do not want to be found. Maybe—”

“Have you checked her bank account?” Reed interrupted.

Cody did well not to roll her eyes. It helped that she could hear a hint of despair in the lawyer’s voice.

“Yes, I did,” she confirmed.

“And has she used her card?” Reed insisted. “For cash, or to make any payments for a hotel room? Or a one-way train ticket out of here?”

“No,” Cody answered. “No activity on the card.”

“Detective Miller, I hope you’ll believe me when I say this: I wish with all my heart to be wrong about Cassie. I hope she’s alive, on her way to somewhere safe where she can make a fresh start. If that’s the case, I don’t care if she didn’t tell me. This kind of ego isn’t what I’m about.”

“Yes. I understand.”

“I really do hope so. But, you know…”

“You had that vision.” Cody nodded.

“Yes.” Reed blew air out and stared at her empty glass of wine as if trying to make it full again with just the power of her mind. “What happens next?” she asked. “Will you continue to look for her? Is there something I can do? You wanted to ask me questions. Ask away; I’ll do anything I can to help.”

Cody focused on this rather than admitting that she might have to pass the case to the Missing Persons department pretty soon. With luck, they might get a lead. If not, and no matter how much it would pain her, the woman’s disappearance might end up as an unresolved cold case.

“Mainly, I wanted to run this stuff past you again,” she let her know. “And ask you about yourself too.”

Reed frowned. “Am I still a suspect?”

“Not at this point, no.”

“But you looked at me.”

“Yes, of course.” Cody calmly held her gaze. “It’s my job to look at everyone involved, if only to eliminate them from my list of potential suspects.”

As per normal routine, she had run a complete background check on the woman. A graduate of Harvard Law School, Reed had gone back to her native Texas soon after finishing top of her class. She passed the bar exam equally successfully and opened her own private practice in Houston. She specialized in criminal defense, and her record indicated that she was extremely good at it. Even so, less than a year and a half earlier, she had relocated to Lewiston and switched to family law. Something there, Cody thought. It seemed like an abrupt move. Reed answered with a shrug when she asked about it.

“When my dad passed away, I had no reason to remain in Houston,” she explained. “I was also after a change of scenery. I think it’s good to shake things up every ten years or so. It keeps you fresh.”

“Right. So, tell me about the visions.”

“Oh, jeez.” Reed briefly closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out. “If we’re going to talk about this, I need another drink,” she declared.

“Fair enough.”

“Can I get you anything? How about some food?”

Cody decided they might as well. It was late. As per usual, she had kept herself too busy during the day to remember to fuel up properly. Technically, she was off duty now too.

“I’ll have a beer and a cheeseburger,” she nodded.

“And fries,” Reed decided. She hailed a passing waitress and ordered for the both of them. As their drinks were promptly delivered, she took off her suit jacket and raised her glass. “Well. Cheers.”

Cody had the distinct impression that this signified a marker in the evening as if Reed had metaphorically gone off duty herself with the gesture.

“Cheers,” she replied and clinked her bottle against the rim of her glass. “Ms. Reed—”

“Please, call me Kim. I find formality gets in the way after a while.”

Cody instantly wondered in the way of what… Intimacy? A little annoyed that it was the first thing that popped into her head, she didn’t ask and just agreed.

“Okay. Kim. Before we move on to that, though, there’s one more thing I’d like to know.”

“Sure. Fire away.”

“How close were you with Cassie Winters?”

Reed’s left eyebrow instantly arched up. “Close? Are you asking me if we were lovers?”

“No offense, but yes.”

“None at all taken. Cody.” Reed used her first name with a smile only tempered by a flash of sadness at the mention of the missing woman. “To confirm, I tend not to date my clients. It’s bad for business.”

“Of course.”

“And Cassie also never looked at me that way. She was firmly heterosexual. Which you probably already guessed I am not.”

One of the regulars here, a woman Cody had been intimate with a couple of times, flashed her a flirty wink as she walked past the table.

“Hey, Detective. Nice to see you.”

“Hey, Bree. You too.” Cody did not linger with the greeting, though, and her occasional partner moved along after a knowing glance at Reed.

◆◆◆

She thinks we’re together. And of course, she would, Kim reflected. Two women at a lesbian bar, sharing drinks and a bite to eat… Of course. Kim held back from shaking her head at her own self. Part of her still struggled to comprehend what had got into her to ask the detective to meet her at this bar, of all places. Buying her dinner, encouraging her using first names, and bluntly admitting to not being straight were also as far out of character for Kim as they could be. And yet… Another part of her, long denied, was not sorry at all to be seen spending private time with the handsome detective. Tonight, Miller was wearing jeans, well-worn military-style boots, and a light red-checked shirt over a simple black t-shirt. Kim assumed the shirt was only there to hide the weapon on her belt, but the style suited her. Cody wore no make-up, not that she needed it with those brilliant blue eyes. She had long, black lashes. And her hair was attractively messed up as if a woman had just run her fingers possessively through the blond strands. Kim caught herself fantasizing about doing just that to her now. She watched Cody sip her beer straight from the bottle. Her lips looked full and attractively moist, fastened loosely around the mouth of the bottle, and Kim wondered what her mouth would taste like. Desire rose in her unexpectedly, hot and bright like a healing flame. Still, before she could fully embrace it, a single memory struck to steal the heat. Icy tendrils wrapped around her throat, replacing joy with a sense of terror, squeezing hard enough to hurt and make her gasp unconsciously.

“Ms. Reed. Kim.”

Startled, Kim refocused to find that Cody was watching her. No ice in her eyes, just pure warmth and a hint of polite concern. Her fingers, firmly laced around her forearm, radiated plenty of heat.

“Sorry,” Kim mumbled.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, fine. Just drifted for a second.”

“Not another vision, was it?”

“No, no.” Kim sighed. Might as well tell her a bit more about those, so she understood how it worked. “All the women in my family happen to be very sensitive.”

“Psychic?”

“Yes, but sensitive is the word we use.”

“Alright.”

As their food arrived, Cody let go of her arm, forcing Kim to suppress another shiver. This one not due to a bad memory, but to the sudden loss of contact. She felt it acutely.

“When my parents got married, they moved to Texas,” she volunteered. ”My father worked in the oil industry at the time. I was born in Houston, but the family has ancestral roots in Louisiana and before that, the French Antilles. My great-great-great grandmother, Camille, apparently had the gift.”

Cody flicked her tongue over a spot of ketchup on her lip, prompting Kim to be tempted to stare again.

“The gift,” she repeated. “What? She was a witch?”

Kim did not often share this side of herself and her story... As in, never . And she might well have taken offense at the crude labeling if the look on Cody’s face had not been so open and earnest. It made her look younger. More innocent. Not as tough, for sure. Kim found herself wanting to smile in spite of herself. The detective appeared enthralled. Cute.

“I guess some people would use that word,” she allowed.

“What would you call it?” Cody prompted.

“Again, I’d say a sensitive. An intuitive.”

“Less dramatic; and more appropriate. Right?”

“Yes. The phenomenon is a little more mundane than you probably imagine.”

“I do have a vivid imagination,” Cody granted. She smiled and pointed to her food. “Please, carry on. And also, don’t forget to eat.”

What Kim might forget if she were not careful was the real reason for their meeting tonight, actually, and the fact that Cody was a cop. Well, maybe not completely for the latter since it was part of the attraction… But still, this was starting to feel less and less like a professional encounter. The woman was incredibly easy to talk to. Friendly, obviously kind, with the sort of looks that were not easily ignored. Kim found even the risk of nasty memories coming back not enough to completely extinguish the flame of desire she had felt earlier. Cody Miller was a little bit special. For sure.

“Basically, the gift runs in the family,” she went on. “My grandmother had it very strong. I think it bypassed my mother and jumped to me directly.”

“How did it start for you?”

“When I was four years old, living in Texas, I used to play with the neighbors’ dog in my yard all the time. My mom called it my imaginary friend, as she could never see the dog and thought the neighbors didn’t have one. One day, when I pleaded for her to believe me, she grew exasperated and went to them to ask. Turns out I had described their Australian Shepherd, Jed, to a T. Even down to the little silver tag he wore on his collar. But there was a catch.”

“What?” Cody prompted. “Don’t stop there!”

She laughed, and Kim could not help but smile again at her enthusiasm. Yes, she reflected. Very attractive.

“The neighbors said that Jed had passed away four months earlier. We’d only been in the house for three.”

“Wow.” Cody stared. “You played with a ghost dog?”

“Apparently, yes. Things stabilized for me after a few years. My mother also did nothing to encourage my ability, and I guess it’s like a muscle in that way. Use it or lose it.”

“Your mother did not want you to have the gift?”

“She was not a fan of this kind of stuff. Moving to Texas, with her left-brained engineer husband, was a chance for her to distance herself from the family lore.”

“What about you?”

“As I grew up, my unusual talent turned into a keen sense of intuition, like I said.”

“Yes, you did.” Cody’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And that it can be useful in your line of work.”

Had she noticed her hesitation and strong reluctance when Kim first mentioned this? Hence why she brought it back now? Kim schooled her expression into neutral.

“Yes, that’s it,” she nodded.

“But no more playing with ghosts,” Cody invited.

“No, that was a one-off.”

“And no visions?”

“None.”

“Mm… Okay.”

It was all Cody said, but her keen blue eyes lingered on her face. Feeling the pressure mounting, Kim reached for her burger and hurried to change the subject.

“You’ve got a slight accent, but I can’t really place it,” she observed. “Where are you from originally?”

“New York City, born and bred.”

“Ah, yes. What made you move over here?”

“Take a guess,” Cody prompted.