Gotcha! (Tall, Hot & Texan Book 1)
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Mueller, Plain and Tall
Features rubber wheels and fiction mechanism. No batteries. Description: Orange air ducting pipe flexible hose hot and cold car cooling transfer extractor. Specification: Material Wall - silicone coated glass. Brand: Orange. Brand: Covelin. He came to the squad room one hot and humid day in August—the PI who her father had hired. He held a large manila envelope in his hands. Eight years after her father had been murdered…two days after her thirtieth birthday.
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She resigned from the Corpus Christi Police Department the very next day. She blew out her breath. Ten years ago now. Funny how life takes you places , she thought. Like sitting here now outside the Best Western, waiting on Mrs. Frazier to have sex so she could snap a picture of her coming out of the room with a smile on her face. Granger showed up out of the blue. She remembered placing it on the table, almost afraid to open it.
The envelope was thick and heavy, taped shut, and it took her several seconds to tear into it. She dumped the contents out onto the table. A wad of cash—twenty thousand dollars—caught her attention first. Then the keys. Three of them, taped neatly to a piece of paper. Again, it was his handwriting and she simply stared at it for the longest time before reading what he had to say. He wrote the note the day before he was killed.
However, the next day—that fateful day—he never got the chance to do that. Dick Falwell confronted him first. One of the keys was to the cottage on Ocean Drive. The cottage was in her name—had been all along—and a management company was taking care of it. She shook her head now. A slamming door brought her attention around and she reached for the camera even before she looked up. Frazier and she relaxed again. It was now after eleven— Of course, the only evidence of sex yesterday was the dreamy smile Mrs. The plates on the red sports car were registered to Michael R.
Best she could tell, Michael R. In fact, she could find very little on him. Drake was using a fake identity. It had been purchased two months prior, paid for in cash. No trail to follow there. She guessed the car—while not brand new—still set him back a good twenty or twenty-five grand.
Frazier was paying her to find out if his wife was having an affair and with whom. If he wanted detailed info on Drake, it would cost him more. She reached into the backseat and grabbed her goody bag. She forgot to take out the orange, though, and she moved the nearly spoiled fruit aside again as her fingers closed around a package of peanut butter crackers. She really needed to start eating better. Actually, she needed to just start eating. She was getting too old to exist on junk food and scotch…with the occasional fish dinner tossed in, either with Larry or Sammy.
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Maybe she should find a friend to have dinner with. A friend.
Nothing more. Too many years for her to even remember how the process worked. How long ago was that? No, she was no longer surprised to find herself thinking of the woman. And sometimes the memory hung around for a day or two before sneaking away again.
She rarely went to bars. She certainly never picked up women at bars. She was far too careful for that. It was as if—with just that one look—the woman had stolen her breath away. She remembered thinking how crazy that was for a woman her age…a woman about to turn forty. She asked her to dance, her voice nearly stuttering with nervousness. One dance led to two.
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It had been a stupid thing to do. The woman was probably barely twenty-five and Finn knew she was too damn old to be acting like a hormone-crazed teen. Yet she found herself pressed against the wall, blatantly making out with the woman. But she came to her senses.
The woman had looked at her, her blue eyes still dark and aroused. She looked almost embarrassed by their earlier actions, but her gaze never wavered. Yes, Finn wanted.
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So they got a room. And what a night it had been.
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She glanced up to meet her eyes in the car mirror. One-night stands being what they were, the woman was gone the next morning when she woke up. She called a friend to pick her up, Finn supposed. Or maybe she called Uber. Regardless, Finn had been shocked by the whole encounter. It was something she never did. She gave a quick, humorless laugh now. Did she have a style? She rolled her shoulders around, staring at the door to Room Was Connie Frazier having a good time with the so-called Michael Drake?
Was she screaming his name? Did she feel guilty? Or was she reveling in the thrill of it all? Did she have any idea that her husband was suspicious? She took a bite of the cracker.