One Good Man(15)

This was wrong. So very wrong. But there was no way Kell was going to move when nothing in his life had felt this right. Jamie was a case, a victim of a crime, his job. He had no business wanting her at all, much less in ways that had him losing his mind. Yet he didn’t care.

How could he when she fit him and wanted him and kept him from being able to draw enough breath? Men dreamed of this. Men paid for this. Hell, men killed for this. And here it was his, and all he’d done was broil her a steak and share her Jim Beam beneath the light of the moon.

Her breast in his palm was sweetly heavy, rounded like a peach, ripe and firm. He cupped and molded, leaving the fabric of her bra as a barrier teasing them both. She wiggled against him, pressed against him, nipped at his lower lip to tell him to move it out of the way. He kissed her harder instead, gripping tightly to the little bit of sanity he hadn’t surrendered.

Her mouth. It was wet and warm, and she tasted like the coffee she’d sipped as they’d traveled, tasted, too, like a feverish panic and…fear. When he slowed the kiss, softening the pressure of his mouth, pulling back, she trembled and moved her hands to his shoulders to hold on.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jamie.” He whispered the words against her cheek. “I’m right here. You’re safe.”

“Safe’s not exactly what I’m feeling,” she said, and tried to laugh, releasing her grip as if knowing he was close enough for now.

“If you’re feeling what I’m feeling…” He watched as she buttoned her shirt, her skin flushed, her fingers fumbling, her expression as dazed and confused as he was feeling. They were headed down a dangerous road here, with neither one of them in a position to enjoy more than the physical trip…or were they?

Was that the danger he was sensing? An emotional connection neither one of them could have anticipated and braced for?

He gave her a hand as she returned to her seat and belted herself in. He then put the vehicle in gear and pulled out of the lot into traffic. He was so screwed. Sex between them was one thing. The complication of hearts and minds was another. The first he could deal with. The second…not now.

Maneuvering through the streets toward their destination, he did his best to put what had happened out of his mind. When he failed at that as miserably as he had at keeping his distance, he forced himself to visualize the crime scene photos from the murders at the Sonora Nites Diner.

It was what he should have been focusing on all along. His work. The job. Solving the case. Using Jamie to do it.

“Is that where we’re going?” she asked, and Kell looked up in time to realize he was about to miss his turn.

He pulled into the parking lot and drove around to the rear of the building. They’d be using an office away from the high-traffic area of the station, one set up to look more like a cozy den with the high-tech recording equipment discreetly mounted on a bookshelf between leather-bound volumes, bronze sculptures and dishes of potpourri.

Glancing over at her as he shifted the SUV into park, he gentled his voice and asked, “Are you ready for this?”

“No.” Her voice cold and flat, a mere whisper of fear, she unbuckled her seat belt, climbed down from the vehicle and slammed the door. And there was nothing gentle in the way she did it at all.





9



THE ROOM REMINDED Jamie of a furniture-store showcase. That, or one of the many therapists’ offices she’d seen from the inside over the years. From the framed cowboy art, to the saddle-tan leather overstuffed chairs, the den-size area would’ve made the perfect setting for a John Wayne western, an episode of Bonanza, a book written by Louis L’Amour.

She did her best to imagine that’s where she was, in a ranch house on the plains, with cattle penned for branding, hands chewing chaws of tobacco, horses corralled and ready for a ride. The only thing that ruined the fantasy was the big picture window behind the half-drawn blinds. No one had told her it was one-way glass, but she knew it was. Knew, too, that Kell would be on the other side while she went back to a place she’d never expected to revisit.In the deepest part of herself, she knew she was doing the right thing. Knowing so didn’t make the process any easier, but interestingly, having Kell there did. Examining why he made all the difference would mean exposing thoughts that were no one’s business, and since she was here to open a vein and bleed for the benefit of strangers, she just accepted his strength without question. She even smiled to herself while she did so, breathing deeply to settle her nerves, and sent him a silent thank-you she hoped his heart could hear.

“Miss Danby? Are you comfortable? There’s a quilted lap throw folded on the lower shelf of the table there if you’re cold.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Jamie said to the female technician who would be observing the session and monitoring the recording equipment. From her seat in the recliner against the back wall, Jamie had a full view of Kell’s window and the chair from which the male DPS officer would be conducting the session. A second officer would join them, strictly as an impartial observer.

With a nod, the tech moved to her position, a desk situated off to the side, and the two officers, a Sergeant Jay Ready and a Captain Norm Greenley, entered the room. Once introductions had been made, Ready moved to a chair in the corner, easing the door closed behind him, while Greenley, the hypnotist, signaled to the technician to begin the tapes. He gave Jamie a smile.

About sixty, he was dressed similarly to Kell, in boots and jeans and a western-cut dress shirt of starched khaki. His mustache was thick and as white as his hair, his face ruddy, his skin pocked, a testament to many years spent in the sun. He wore a simple wedding band on his left hand, a hefty gold University of Texas class ring on his right.

When he sat in the other recliner, Jamie found her fingers digging into the armrests of hers, her body stiff, her neck and jaw tight, her head beginning to ache. Telling herself to relax didn’t do a bit of good. Her heart was racing, her skin tingling, her stomach threatening to heave up her coffee-and-muffin breakfast.

Captain Greenley squared one leg over the other, folded back the cover of a legal portfolio and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. He clicked the end and gave the time and date for the tape. “I’m Captain Norman Greenley with the Texas Department of Public Safety. I’m here in Midland, Texas, at the Texas Rangers Company E headquarters, along with media technician Megan Holly and Sergeant Jay Ready. The purpose of this recording is to document an investigative-hypnosis interview with Miss Jamie Danby of Weldon, Texas, also present. Ranger Sergeant Kellen Harding, of the UCIT, is observing from the adjoining room.”

For the next thirty minutes, Captain Greenley engaged Jamie in what he explained was a prehypnosis interview. He stated for the record the few basic facts Kell had told him about the case, and established by questioning Jamie that the two of them had not met prior to today.

She listened intently as he advised her of his training and credentials, making sure she understood that he was certified and authorized to conduct the interview, and doing it all in a kindly, genial manner, his tone what she thought of as grandfatherly, his approach that of a natural storyteller, setting her at ease.

“Have you been hypnotized on any other occasion, Jamie?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head.

“Have you ever seen anyone be hypnotized?”

She laughed softly. “Only on TV and in movies.”

Captain Greenley laughed, too. “Believe it or not, those demonstrations are actually responsible for the perceptions, and misconceptions, most people have of hypnosis.”

Jamie assumed he was going to explain, but prompted him anyway with a curious “Such as?”

“While under hypnosis, you won’t be asleep or unconscious. You won’t divulge secrets, and you won’t be compelled to tell the truth.” He clicked his ballpoint again. “Hypnosis is not sodium pentothal.”

“You mean it’s not truth serum,” Jamie said, pulling her legs comfortably into the seat of the big chair.

“Exactly. You won’t get stuck in your hypnotized state, and unless you’re already of a mind to do so, you can’t be made to do anything foolish.”

“Like flap my wings and cluck?”

Again, he nodded, smiling. “In a Vegas show, maybe, but not here.”

“The real deal,” she said, and wondered what Kell was thinking, if he was grinning in that way he had of making her insides quiver.

“Yes, it is,” he said, clicked his pen one more time and jotted down a note. “You also need to know that you may remember additional information about the Sonora Nites Diner murders, but you may not. You will, however, remember everything about the session once I bring you out of hypnosis.”

She nodded her understanding, relieved to know no one would think her a failure if her memory didn’t return, not so relieved to know she’d remember everything after the fact. Over the years, she’d found solace in her amnesia. She’d hate to lose that tiny comfort even though she knew it was time.

“Now, Jamie. I want you to close your eyes, relax and picture your kitchen at home. Think about it for as long as you need to, then describe to me the visualization.”