All That Sparkles (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  His words send a shiver through me. I watch him get in and start down the drive. No license plate. Figures. Rachael’s car stops on the street to let him pull out ahead of her. He waves at her and nods, as she gawks and gives him a stunned, little finger-wave in return.

  Chapter Five

  “Who the fuck was that?” She starts before she ever gets out of the car.

  I decide not to give her all the gory details. She’ll freak out. “Oh, that was Cal,” I say like it’s no big deal.

  “Cal? Who is Cal?” she asks as she climbs the porch steps.

  “Callum Stone from the Iron Horse. Let’s go inside.”

  Closing the door firmly behind us, I scurry over to the window to make sure he’s gone. She doesn’t seem to notice my sudden onset of paranoia. Instead, she heads straight for the fridge and grabs my last soda without a second thought. Being poor myself, I sigh as she pops the top and takes a huge swig. I mean, we can’t all be brilliant accountants pulling in six figures a year.

  “Okay.” She belches and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, shattering my illusion of what a successful powerhouse of a woman should look like. “Sit down and tell me about Cal.” She stops suddenly and looks undecided. “No. Tell me about Detective Dreamy. No…”

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “Damn, girl. When it rains, it pours! Tell me about both of them.”

  “Let’s just take them one at a time. Mr. Stone works for the Iron Horse,” I explain. “They were just checking to make sure I’m okay.”

  “Well, that was nice of them.” She gushes. “And, they sent their sexiest emissary to confirm?”

  “Yeah. Apparently. But he was all business.” I try to sound disappointed.

  “That’s too bad. Now, tell me about your Dreamy dream.” She giggles.

  No longer in the mood, I force myself to recount for her my dream from this morning. I leave out a few of the really naughty bits, but I include the bondage part. A few minutes later, she’s panting on the edge of the sofa.

  “You know what that means, right?” Her eyes sparkle.

  “That I need to invest in some BDSM toys?”

  She shakes her head.

  “That I should never mix tequila with white wine? What?”

  “Means you need to get laid, sister!”

  I roll my eyes and snort-chuckle. “You’re thinking about Misty, not me.”

  “No, I’m not. How long has it been? Two years?”

  “Not quite.” I sigh, gazing out of the window at the porch where Mr. Stone just stood a few minutes earlier. And, why he pops to mind when we’re talking about getting laid is beyond me. “You’re forgetting about that incident with Joey Larson,” I remind her.

  I wish I could forget about it. Joey was a stocker at the grocery store where I worked. He followed me around like a puppy for a solid year. I let Misty and Rachael talk me into having a harmless ‘office romance’ with him, which ended up in the break room at work, me leaning over a cafeteria table, and him with his pants down around his ankles. Foreplay was him asking me if I had a condom. What I really remember about the encounter is the way my sweaty boobs kept squeaking against the table every time he pushed into me, like wipers on a dry windshield. I was afraid my nipples were going to rub off and stick to the table by the time we were done, which, thankfully, was less than a minute end to end.

  “Well, that doesn’t count,” Rachael says guiltily. “I’m talking about real honest to goodness, hot naked monkey sex. Nothing since Steve, right?”

  “Rachael, I can honestly say that I’ve never had hot naked monkey sex. Ever. Not with Steve and certainly not with Joey.” I snort-chuckle again.

  “Well, that’s your problem right there. I mean, just because Steve was an asshole and couldn’t please a whore on X, doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. Well, unless you count the baseball dating.”

  I nod, praying we don’t get into the whole discussion about baseball dating again. Honestly, it’s a great system. If a man gets through the first date without three strikes, then he’s in like Flynn, a shag-worthy investment. But three fatal flaws on a first date is definitely a deal-breaker. Not, that I shag everyone who doesn’t strike out. Apparently, I’m not a very sexual person. I just can’t seem to ‘grab the golden ring’ during intercourse. I have my essentials, triple A batteries. That’s all I need.

  “I know. You’re right.” Best to just agree with her.

  “You got a couple of bad sex apples. You just need to broaden your horizons a little. Who knows? The next one might be a peach.”

  “Stop with the fruit analogies already. You’re making me hungry.”

  “So, you’ll go get laid?”

  “Yes. I will.”

  She gives me the Clint Eastwood squinty eyes.

  “I will! I promise.”

  “Good. When?”

  I look at her with exasperation. “Well, geez, Rach. I don’t know. Would you happen to have the number for “Dial a Ho” on you? If so, I’ll call them right now.”

  The doorbell interrupts and my heartbeat goes from zero to sixty in under a second. Surely, Cal wouldn’t dare come back? Rachael never stops talking as she stands and makes her way to the door, opening it slowly.

  “Girl, you don’t need ‘Dial a Ho’. You got…” Suddenly, she stops talking and stares at the doorway.

  “Detective Logan.” I hear his husky voice from across the living room.

  I spring to my feet in full-on panic mode, my head swiveling around the room frantically searching for any embarrassing contraband, and I’m sure I’ve peed a little. I try to calm myself. He doesn’t know about the dream.

  “Hellooo,” Rachael says, turning to me with wide-eyes and a lookie-what-we-got-here grin. “Won’t you come in?” She steps back and waves a welcoming arm. “Ellie! Look who’s here.” She winks at me as he enters.

  “Detective—” I bite my lip to keep from finishing my thought…Dreamy.

  “Um. Logan,” he says. “It’s Detective Logan. Or, Danny, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

  “Won’t you sit down, Danny?” Rachael purrs. “Can I take your coat? We were just talking about you,” she says with an evil smirk.

  He looks confused for a second. “No, thank you. I won’t be staying long.”

  “Uh…she meant we were just talking about last night,” I speak up quickly. “About what happened.”

  “Oh.” He nods in understanding and I crinkle my brow at Rachael, which, as everyone knows, is the international sign for shut the hell up.

  “What brings you here, Detective? Er…Danny.” I try to sound unimpressed as I look at Rachael. She stands behind him pointing at me while she humps the air and lip syncs “you do”. I attempt to ignore her.

  “We’re running a series of checks on all the recent missing persons but so far, there’s been no one matching the description of the woman you gave us.” He looks at me apologetically.

  “I see. What about the man?”

  “Well, you really didn’t give us much to go on as far as a description for the man.” He pulls out a small notepad and flips through the pages. I can see scribbles and doodles on the front and back of each page, but I can’t really read them. I find my head slowly leaning over in a semi-circle trying to make out some of the words. “Ahem. Let’s see,” He says, tucking the page beneath his hand, as I try to look innocent. “You weren’t sure how tall he was. You thought he was maybe low to mid-forties with short-ish brown hair, or maybe black. You said he might have green or hazel eyes, or possibly even brown. And, that he was wearing jeans and a checkered cowboy shirt.” He looks at me like he might be annoyed. “Anything else you want to add to that?”

  Wow. Listening to him now, I feel like a total jerk. That description could have fit half the men at the club last night. Rachael looks at me with a disbelieving snarl on her face. Yes, I suck! I know.

  “No, unfortunately.” I hang my head in shame.

&nb
sp; “Well, we’re still checking the blood on the pool stick against our DNA database. There’s no match yet, but it takes time.”

  I nod, still ignoring Rachael who keeps tweaking her nipples at me every time I look her direction.

  “That’s great,” I say. “I wish there was more I could do.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here. I tried calling this morning, but I didn’t get an answer.” I glance at my phone on the bar. I’m sure it was while I was outside dueling with the Iron Horse hitman. “We’d like you to come in for a DNA test, too. You know, just to get it out of the way and make sure we aren’t making any errors.”

  I glance at Rachael who has stopped her clownish antics and is cocking her brows at him suspiciously.

  “So that you’re not making any errors?” I repeat, skeptically, looking back at Dreamy.

  “Yeah. I mean, they don’t want to be running down a DNA trail and then find out it’s yours. Right?”

  I bite my lip and consider. “Well, I know I’d be very surprised if you found my blood mixed in there anywhere, given that I don’t have a scratch on me.” I hold out my arms as proof. I don’t care how good looking he is, I’m tired of being made out as the bad guy here. “And, I’m pretty sure I didn’t secrete anything while I was standing there,” I add for good measure. Did I?

  He looks at me, a bit surprised by my sudden change in demeanor. “DNA can be introduced in a variety of ways, Miss Carter. You held the pool cue. You held the knife. You touched the victim. You could have left hair or fingerprints, footprints, saliva…well, anything, carpet fibers even, anywhere along the crime scene. We just need to be able to rule you out,” he explains.

  “Oh,” I say, embarrassed and suddenly glad as hell that I didn’t pee in the alley as I was tempted to do. “That makes sense.”

  “Yeah,” Rachael says, nodding. “It does. But can’t she just go ahead and give you a hair or spit on something now and be done with it?”

  Spit on something? I gape at her, my eyes wide with horror. She gives me a what’d-I-say shrug.

  “Well, I hope she doesn’t spit on me.” He grins at me and my heart lurches. I think I might agree to spit on anything he wants me to at this moment. “And, I guess that’s possible, but we prefer to test in a clean, sterile environment whenever we can. We’d also like to get your prints so we can eliminate them from the investigation.” He looks at me, serious now.

  I smile and stand. “Of course. How do you want to do this? Should I follow you? Should I make an appointment or what?”

  He gets up, obviously pleased by my amenable offer. “Whatever is convenient for you. If you need a ride…”

  “Hang on,” Rachael interrupts, apparently remembering the last episode of Law and Order she watched. She stays seated with her legs curled beneath her on the sofa, twirling her hair as she contemplates. I mentally will her to be quiet, but it doesn’t work. “She’s not being booked or charged with anything, right?”

  “That’s right.” Detective Logan nods.

  “I don’t know.” She looks at him skeptically and then addresses me. “Ellie, I think you might want to call a lawyer first.”

  “If you want to waste your time and money, go ahead,” he scoffs, turning to look at me. “Look, you’re not under arrest. I haven’t read you your rights, or cuffed you, have I?”

  Cuffed me? I blush from head to toe and glance at Rachael, who’s holding a sofa cushion against her face to keep from laughing. He doesn’t know about the dream!

  Thank God, he doesn’t seem to notice and continues. “Besides, while you’re there, I thought maybe we could look at a few photos together. You know, see if you recognize anyone. Obviously, the sooner you can come, the better, while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

  “Fine,” I reply, thinking about Mr. Stone, and not sure how much I really want to get involved. I consider telling him about the strange visit, but for some reason, I decide against it.

  “Ellie, I don’t think—”

  “It’s fine.” I smile reassuringly at Rachael and then walk toward the door. “I’ll be along shortly, Detective Logan. I have a few things to do first, but I’ll see you this afternoon.” I look at him as I open the door, signaling him to leave.

  “Thanks. And, if you need anything in the meantime, just give me a call.” He pauses standing in front of me and gives me a lusty smile as he hands me a small business card. Did he just hit on me? Surely not. Did he? And, what is it with hot, hunky men giving me business cards today? Not that I mind at all.

  “Okay. I will call you if I need anything. And, if not, I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  I watch as Dreamy steps off my porch and climbs into his blue sedan. He glances up and I realize that I’m gawking more than watching, so I give him an embarrassed smile and a little wave and I close the door.

  Rachael immediately launches into her assessment. “Girl! He wants your handprints, all right. He wants to lift them off his dick.”

  “No, he doesn’t. Does he? You really think?” I sound like I’m twelve years old.

  “Oh, yeah. I think.” She grins. “Want me to come with you? Or are you going to look for a table in the cafeteria that you can bend over?”

  “Not hardly. And, you’ve been hanging around Misty too long, Miss Gutter Brain.”

  “I know. But I will come with you if you want me to.”

  “No. You don’t need to.” I realize she probably wants to, but she might dampen any date prospects with Dreamy, if, in fact, any actually exist.

  “You sure? I’m supposed to go out with Denise tonight. But I can see her tomorrow. And, what else do you have to do today?”

  “Mainly, I just didn’t want to ride with him. But I really was thinking about going to Aunt Jo’s for lunch, though. I haven’t seen them in a while.”

  “Well, you should have gone with him. You would have been guaranteed one-on-one time with him all the way to the station and back. You guys could have learned a lot about each other.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s what scared me,” I confess.

  “You promised me you would—” she starts to rant.

  “Yes, get laid. I know. I will.”

  “Fine. Go have lunch with Aunt Jo and tell her I said hello. Be sure you give her lots of sugar for me,” she says reaching for her jacket.

  “I will,” I promise. “I’ll call you later. And, tell Denise I said hi.” If Rachael ever decided to have a real “girl” friend, it would be Denise.

  “Call me! I mean it. I want to hear how it goes with Dreamy!” She gives me a quick peck on the mouth and leaves.

  I look around my quiet, empty house and suddenly, I feel bereft, Mr. Stone and Detective Dreamy combining into one very big albatross around my neck. I want my Aunt Jo.

  Chapter Six

  “Jo Jo! Look who’s here!” Uncle Jimmy slings a handful of corn feed across the yard and a gaggle of chickens and ducklings descend.

  “Ellie Rose!” My family is incapable of addressing me by my first name only.

  “Hi, Aunt Jo.” My arms barely fit around her, but I squeeze her as tight as I can anyway. I skip over to Uncle Jimmy and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Uncle Jimmy.”

  “How ya’ doing, girlie?” He smiles at me as he continues to scatter feed.

  “I’m fine. Just missing you guys, is all.” Looking around, I sigh. This will always be my home, my Weeping Willow tree, my pond, my cows, my chickens, my family.

  “Well, we miss you, too, hon.” Aunt Jo drops her garden gloves and puts her hand around my waist, leading me toward the house. “Come on in and I’ll get you a glass of tea. Have you had lunch yet?”

  I look at her and grin.

  “That’s what I thought. I made some potato soup and cornbread earlier. I’ll heat you up a bowl.”

  “Bring me out a glass of tea when you get a chance!” Uncle Jimmy yells behind us as he heads for his favorite chair beneath the lean-to under the Willow tree.

  Sitting down in
Aunt Jo’s kitchen, I feel almost normal again.

  “Whatcha been up to, kiddo?” She places a bowl of steamy soup in front of me before sitting down to give me her full attention. I love how she is always glad to see me.

  “Nothing really,” I lie as I shovel soup into my mouth. “I just had some time and wanted to check in and let you know that I’m fine.”

  She reaches across the small table and pats my hand. “I know that. I never had any doubt you would be.”

  I smile, my mouth full of fried cornbread. Aunt Jo has always been my biggest supporter. Since she and Uncle Jimmy were never able to have kids of their own, she was always content to share me with my mom, even though my uncle had six other kids for her choosing. And, after my parents died, she made sure I had a home and that all my needs were met, along with a good deal of my wants. They certainly weren’t wealthy, by any means. But with the little bit of money I got from them, the rent income from my parents’ house, and the extra jobs I worked while I was in school, I’m now officially debt-free and down to one full-time job.

  After an hour, and a slice of homemade pecan pie, I decide that I’ve put off my DNA obligations long enough. Despite strong protests from both of them, I tell them I have to go. They walk me to my car so they can extend our visit by another few minutes.

  “Who’s that?” I point down the road at a slow moving black pick-up. I can’t make out who’s driving, but it looks an awful lot like Mr. Stone.

  “Don’t know,” says Uncle Jimmy, pushing back his hat and squinting. “No tellin’ anymore. This whole area is turning into a city.”

  I laugh as I scour the fields around the farm. “Uncle Jimmy, there’s not another house, car, or human within eye-shot of you.”

  “Give it time. Last week, there was almost a traffic jam out here in front of the house. Just today, I counted three cars drive past here. Three!” He holds up three crooked fingers and shakes them at me. “Might have been the same one, though.”

  “It wasn’t that black truck, was it?” I ask, alarmed.

  “No. It was one of them shiny, newer cars.”