He swore. Death was far too good for Jimmy Ramsey.
“Look at the one of her sister.”
Bill opened another image that showed Cheryl in a similar position with her arm at an unnatural angle and one side of her face so puffy she was almost unrecognizable.
Sean cursed again and clicked on the picture of Kim again. She’d endured all that to protect her sister. Half the guys in his Special Forces unit would have spilled their guts for less.
“You still want to hand this off to one of the rookies?”
Sean leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to quiet his stomach. He, of the cast-iron gut, who’d seen more blood and body parts than he could count, getting nauseous because of a couple of photos? He was going soft. “The guy got six months.”
Bill whistled. “Six months? That’s it?”
“He’s a cop.”
“A cop. How many years of service?”
“Fifteen before he was suspended.” The situation was ugly. “He’s been investigated three times for excessive violence against female suspects but never disciplined. He has connections. Influence.”
“Damn.”
Yeah, no kidding. A cop with fifteen years’ experience knew what he was doing. Ramsey would take down a rookie cop in a heartbeat. And rookies were all Bill had working for him.
Hell.
Sean picked up his phone and called the parole officer again. It was almost eight in the morning Pacific time, so he should be in by now.
A raspy voice answered on the first ring. “Vin here.”
“Officer Sean Templeton here calling from the Ridgeport Police Department in Maine.”
“Yeah, I just got done listening to your message. Ramsey hasn’t checked in.”
“Will you call me when he does?” If he does.
“Yeah. Later.” Vin hung up.
Chatty guy.
“So?”
Sean hung up the phone. “He hasn’t checked in.” So Jimmy could be in Maine.
“I don’t want him in my town.” Bill actually looked a little stressed.
“You and me both.” Sean dug his fingers into his forehead. Miserable friggin’ headache. He had to think. Needed to figure this out. “You have to take this case. A rookie is no match for Ramsey.”
“Can’t do it. I’m already overloaded. It’s you or a rookie.”
Sean narrowed his eyes at the man he’d once called his friend. “Do it for me.”
“Do it for yourself.”
He cursed. “The woman is my ex-fiancée. Don’t you have rules against taking a case that you’re personally involved in?”
“Not in this department. We’re too small.” Billy lifted an eyebrow. “Besides, you said you don’t care about her.”
“I don’t.”
Billy grinned. “Seems to me, the only reason I’d have for taking you off this case is if you were so screwed up by her that you were incapable of performing your duties. She got you that bad, Templeton?”
“Of course not. I can do my job.”
Billy tossed him the folder. “Then I guess it’s yours.”
Sean caught the file. He was trapped, and they both knew it.
“Welcome back, Sean. Enjoy your first case.”
“You’re too damned cheery.”
All he got was a bigger grin. “And you’re too damned ornery. Go take a shower and we’ll see you back here tonight. You’re in charge of the night shift. I’m gonna stick to days now that you’re around.”
“I’m in charge? No way, Billy.” The deal had been that he’d be a patrol officer with a beat, about as far from his Special Forces experience as possible. He didn’t want responsibility for anyone anymore. All he wanted was a paycheck.
“It’s Chief Vega to you. Remember that or I’ll have to write you up for insubordination. The nights are yours. Enjoy.”
Sean groaned. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t deal with someone trying to be friends with him.
He might be off duty, but he wasn’t going to be off the clock until he finished this deal with Jimmy Ramsey and got Kim out of his life.
Right now, he was going to find Kim.
He needed some answers.
EDDIE WAVED KIM off as he turned toward the docks, leaving Kim on her own to head into the office. As she clomped up the wooden steps, she could almost hear her dad on the phone, or her mom laughing at the reception desk.
Almost, but not quite. Joyce wasn’t there, Max was in a coma and Kim had a psychopath stalking her.
Not exactly the utopia of her youth. That utopia was a mirage she’d never fall for again. Behind those moments of laughter, Joyce had been suffering and no one had realized it. Even now, Kim was the only one who really knew why her mom had killed herself, thanks to the letter Joyce had mailed right before she ended her life.
A letter that would haunt Kim forever.
She nodded at one of the maintenance guys on his way out of the office, the logo on his shirt identifying him. A giggle caught her attention and she turned in time to see one of the female employees latch on to his beefy arm and guide him in the direction of the laundry facilities.
Yeah, when Kim had been young, she’d lusted after the maintenance guys, too. Today, she only noticed their muscles and assessed how hard they’d be able to hit their wives.
Was she messed up or what?
She stepped inside the screened porch foyer and saw two strangers working the front desk. That was where her mom had spent her days, enjoying the contact with the guests and the outside world they represented.
Now it was a guy in his late twenties wearing a tight, black T-shirt that showed off his well-developed upper body, and a slightly older woman with blond hair pulled into two pigtails. They were arguing about something, and the woman seemed to be winning.
Kim was all in favor of avoiding both of them, but her dad’s office was behind the reception desk. She cleared her throat, trying not to feel like a stranger in the place that had been her home. “Hello.”
They ignored her and kept bickering.
“Hey!” What was up with this? For all they knew, she was a guest. Having the staff arguing in front of her was hardly what her parents would have allowed. It was as if anarchy had taken over now that Max wasn’t around.
The woman spun toward her, plastering a cheery smile on her face in an amazing metamorphosis. “Good morning and welcome to the Loon’s Nest. May I help you?”
“I’m…Max Collins’s daughter, Kim.”
The woman’s eyes snapped wide open and she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh!” Then she dropped her hand. “I’m so sorry about your dad. Such a nice man.”
“Yeah, I know.” And no, I haven’t visited him yet, so don’t ask. Gee, think she was getting a little testy? She tried to smile and put on a friendly voice. “And you are?”
“Didi Smith. I work here year-round, helping out your dad in the winter.” Didi was supermodel-skinny, but her eyes were sharp and intelligent. Maybe a fraction too much makeup for working the front desk at the Loon’s Nest, but