Melissa tensed. The man...his voice sounded familiar. She hadn’t heard it in ages, but...it sounded like Dexter Hawk.
“This is a crime scene. I can’t let you come in,” Detective Lamar said bluntly.
Melissa hurried to the door and nudged up beside the stocky cop. He was about her height, but his voice and demeanor were intimidating. By design, probably.
“Melissa?”
Her heart pounded. It was Dexter.
“Dex?”
The cop looked back and forth between them, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. “You two know each other?”
“Yes,” they said at the same time.
“Well, hell.” The cop scraped a hand down his chin.
Dex took a step forward. “Lamar, you know I’ve been investigating the missing transients since we found my father. This incident could be related.”
“It’s not,” the detective said brusquely. “You saw Dr. Hudson’s autopsy report. Your father’s death was an accident, Dex. Accept it and move on.”
“I wish we could have used Dr. Weinberger from Tumbleweed,” Dex said. “I know him and trust him.”
“Hudson is a good ME,” Lamar said.
Melissa twisted her hands by her sides. Apparently Dex and this detective knew each other, too. PI to cop, or were they friends?
“Go home, Dex, and let me handle this,” Detective Lamar said.
Melissa made a snap decision. She hadn’t seen Dex in almost ten years. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was about his father. To ask him why he thought his father’s death, the missing transients and the shooting might be connected.
“Excuse me, Detective,” she said, giving the cop a gentle push as she reached for the door. “I need some air.”
He started to protest, but she slanted him an icy look. Ever since he’d arrived at the shelter, he’d made her and the residents feel as if they’d done something wrong. “You can’t make me stay inside,” she said simply. “Not unless you’re going to charge me with something.”
The man’s thick lips pressed into a tight line. A breath laced with the foul scent of cigarettes wheezed out, then he stepped aside. “Just don’t leave the county without telling me,” he said. “I might need to ask you some more questions.”
She gave a quick nod, then pushed past him and out the door. The odor of blood and death inside the shelter was making her nauseous.
She quickly dragged in a breath, then looked up to see Dex’s handsome face. Worry darkened the depths of his eyes as he gently took her arm and led her down the steps to a cluster of trees. She was still shaking so badly that her legs nearly buckled.
“Ahh, Melissa.” A second later, Dexter pulled her up against him, and she leaned her head into his chest.
* * *
DEXTER WRAPPED HIS arms around Melissa, his heart racing. Although he hadn’t seen her in years, he’d never forgotten how wonderful she felt in his arms. He stroked her back, and inhaled the fragrance of rosewater, the fragrance that had taunted him in his sleep every day since they’d parted ways.
His nights had been filled with dreams of her to the point that he’d thought he’d never get over her.
She clung to his chest, her shaky breathing doing a number on his emotions.
Maybe he hadn’t gotten over her. He sure as hell hadn’t let any other woman in his life or heart since. No...he’d been too damn afraid of loving to put himself out there and chance getting hurt. Watching the heartbreak his mother had suffered when his father left had taught him a lesson.
He hadn’t deserved Melissa anyway. Not after he’d told his sister to get lost that night. And then she had. Forever.
Still, he couldn’t help himself. He rubbed Melissa’s back again, savoring the feel of her in his arms for another minute. She was alive. She appeared unharmed, at least physically.
Time to do his job and talk. Not lose himself traipsing down memory lane.
“You okay, darlin’?”
She nodded against him and gave a deep sigh. “Thanks.” She patted his chest, then eased from his embrace and lifted her chin. “Sorry.”
“No apologies,” he murmured, his chest squeezing with emotions again. Damn, she had that effect on him. The thought of anyone hurting her made him want to pound something.
He swallowed hard, forcing his mind back on track and his eyes away from her beautiful face. The sight of that unruly dark auburn hair that had driven him mad when he’d run his fingers through it taunted him to touch it again.
He had to resist.
“I saw the story about your father. I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Dexter ground his teeth, the pain back. “I want answers,” he said honestly.
“He died in an automobile accident?”
He nodded. Thankfully, the paper hadn’t revealed that he was inebriated at the time. “I found a card from another homeless shelter in his truck.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, a frown marring her heart-shaped face. “He was living in a shelter?”
“I don’t know,” Dexter said. “But I’ve been visiting some of them to see if anyone knew him. I’m curious as to what he was doing all this time.” And why he never came back.
Lamar’s voice as he spoke to the officer guarding the scene echoed from the front stoop, jerking Dex back to the reason he’d come.
“You were involved in a shooting tonight?” Dex asked.
Her face paled, and she wrapped her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together. He wanted to draw her back into his arms.
But if he did, he might never let go.
Something he’d have to do. He’d walked away from her before because she deserved better.
She still did.
Melissa rubbed her arms to erase the chill invading her. Dex’s warm embrace reminded her of feelings that had never really gone away.
Dex exhaled. “What happened here?”
“We were locking up for the night when this man burst in the back door. He had a gun and grabbed me, said he wanted Jim Smith.”
“Did he say why?” Dex asked.
She shook her head. “No, it happened really fast. He pushed me toward the common room, then Jim appeared. Jim offered to trade himself for me, then the gunman told Jim to tie me up. He tossed him a rope. Smith grabbed the rope, then charged the man with the gun.”
Detective Lamar stepped outside, his voice carrying in the slight breeze that stirred. “I want an APB out on this man. Name is Jim Smith. Approach with caution. He’s already killed one man tonight, and is armed and dangerous.”
Melissa tensed at the detective’s tone. She crossed the space to him as he hung up. “Detective Lamar,” she said. “Jim isn’t dangerous, at least not in the way you’re suggesting. He acted in self-defense. He wasn’t armed when he came here.”
Dexter had followed her over to the cop, his arms crossed as he listened.
“How do you know Smith didn’t have a gun?” the detective asked. “Did you search his belongings?”