The Departed

head in one piece,” he reminded her. “As to what’s up…Hard to say but it looks like somebody else besides Tiffany was out there tonight—last night. Area where somebody might have been watching the house for a few minutes. So far the car is showing a number of fingerprints, but nothing on the bottle but the boy’s, the dad’s, and a partial from a third person—my gut says that’s probably from the store, though. If he had anybody in the car with him, they either didn’t touch the bottle or they gloved up.”
    “Smart,” Dez murmured.
    “Yes.” Taylor glanced at her. “He has a history of getting in trouble. Drinking. Fighting. This isn’t a surprise to anybody around here. There are some abrasions, swelling on his right hand, looks like he popped somebody tonight.”
    “How many buddies did he have in that little group of his?”
    “Six, originally. But with Tristan gone, it’s down to five. Now it’s down to three with Mark and Donnelly here. The other two, a Keith Sutter and Lee Grogan, aren’t as intrinsic to the group, from what I’ve heard, but we need to speak with them.”
    “We?” she echoed.
    He stopped now and turned, facing her.
    Sighing, she turned and met his eyes.
    “You’re involved in this whether you want to admit it or not. The girl called you. Without the two of you, that boy would be dead. Hell, we’re still trying to locate his parents…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “They looked closer around the grounds because Tiffany said she saw somebody. That’s why they looked. If they’d just come over to answer a 911 call, they might have taken things as they appeared. A stupid boy doing a stupid thing. Assuming there’s more to this, if any justice is found, it will be because of you—because you established a connection with that girl and gave her somebody she could trust. Like it or not, you’re in this up to your butt, Lincoln.”
    “Why don’t you kiss my butt?” she muttered, turning on her heel and storming down the hall.
    Yeah, she was involved. But she damn well didn’t like it.
    Taylor caught up with her at the coffee machine. As she plugged quarters in, he said, “That stuff is going to eat away at your stomach lining and you know it.”
    “You say the sweetest things, Jones.” She sighed and rested a hand over her heart. “Is it any wonder I went to my back for you the minute I had you alone in my house?”
    Hearing an odd, strangled sound from him, she shot him a look from the corner of her eye. His tanned cheekbones had harsh red flags of color to them—but he wasn’t blushing. No, it was more than that. He looked…ravenous. Yeah. That was it. The steely blue of his eyes had a hard, hungry glint to it. It was enough to make her heart race, but she’d be damned if she showed it. Still, it made her feel a little better. He wasn’t immune to her, even now. No more than she was immune to him.
    Good .
    “What’s the matter, Jones?” she asked, forgetting about the coffee and taking a step closer to him. “Cat got your tongue?”
    “Damn it, Dez,” he growled.
    Blinking at him, she whispered, “Is that all you got, Jones?”
    “Why are you doing this?” He tore his eyes away from her, staring past her shoulder as though the secrets of the universe and the mess they had on their hands were written on the wall in disappearing ink and he had only moments to memorize it all. “Don’t we have enough to deal with without this crap?”
    “This…crap?” she mocked. “Is this crap?”
    Sidling closer, she breathed in his scent, wished she could just lean in against him and let him take away every problem in the world. Wished he would want to.
    “This crap,” she repeated. “You want me. You care for me. I want you. I care for you. And once this job is done, we don’t work together anymore. So why is it crap? Why is this such a problem for you?”
    Tilting her head back, she stared at him, into those steely blue eyes that held so many secrets.
    But he had no answer for her. Sighing, she turned away, staring at the coffee machine again. But she didn’t need the caffeine now. She was wide awake. Wide awake and miserable.
    He had a point, she supposed. They had enough on their hands and she didn’t need to be stirring up her old heartbreaks on top of it. She just couldn’t help herself. Not where he was concerned.
    Tired of it, tired of the pain that came along with him, she walked away from the coffee machine. She