Sophie Oak - One to Keep

“Really? Because the way we left things, I thought he would be thrilled.” Jen didn’t like to think about the morning she’d left.

Sometimes she couldn’t help it, and it played over and over in her mind like a bad movie. Of course at night when she was asleep, she dreamed about making love with Stef. She couldn’t help it. In her dreams he took her over and over. He spanked her to warm her up and then made love to her like a starving man.

Callie blinked behind her glasses. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you. I just know he was really upset. I know Stef.

He was far too quiet, and he retreated into his studio for two weeks after you left. He barely said a word to anyone.”

“He was just feeling a little guilty.”

“I don’t think so,” Callie said. “But I’m not going to be able to convince you.”

There was a brief knock on the door that saved her from Callie’s further explanations. Jen opened the door expecting to see Stef. She was surprised at the large, lovely man inhabiting her doorway. His hair was cut startlingly short, but Jen could see it was reddish. His face was an intriguing mixture of craggy lines and lovely features.

“Hello, did Stef send me a toy?”

He frowned, his brows making a neat V in his forehead. “No. I’m a doctor.” He looked past Jen to Callie. “Is this one of those patients, Callie?”

Callie laughed. “No, Caleb. She’s just extremely sarcastic. Jen, this is Dr. Caleb Burke. He’s the new town doctor. Stef brought him in for Rachel’s birth.”

Jen noticed he was carrying a large, battered leather bag. He strode into the room like he owned the place. He set his bag down and shrugged out of the thick parka he was wearing. The doc worked out.

That much was plain.

“Don’t forget all the people who get shot around here. For such a small town, you deal with a lot of trauma. I wasn’t here for the last two shootouts, but I have an emergency plan for the next one.” Jen had seen the effects of the last little emergency that happened in Bliss. Mel and Nate had gone to the hospital. Before that, both Max and Rye had been injured. “Hopefully we’ve seen the last violence for a while.”

The doc slapped his hands together. “Nope. Place like this is a magnet. Bad things will always happen, and I’m going to be ready for it.”

Callie nodded and gave the doc a smile. It was the same smile she gave Mel when placating him. “Caleb is a great believer in preparedness. He made the whole town act out a scenario where the town was taken over by armed gunmen. Nell and Henry decided to protest and…”

“Nell and Henry got shot. Protesting won’t stop an armed gunman. Kevlar. That’s what you need, and a damn fine plan of action.”

Caleb Burke had his hands on his lean hips, looking down at Jen like a drill sergeant with a new recruit.

Jen turned to Callie. “Tell me Nell and Henry are still in one piece.”

Callie waved off the concern. “He used paint guns. It was fine.

Henry was surprisingly mouthy for a dead guy. The big problem was that Mel was late, and Caleb used green paint.” Jen knew exactly where this was going. “Aliens have green blood.”

“Yup. Mel freaked out. Guess you weren’t so prepared for that, were you, doc?” Callie asked with a smile.

Caleb had the good grace to look slightly apologetic. “It wasn’t bad. I took out Mel with a tranq gun. He was fine. Now, let’s get on with it. If you’ll take off your clothes, we’ll get started.” Jen took a small step back, because the man didn’t look like he was joking. “Excuse me?”

“Stef brought in the doc to give you a physical,” Callie explained.

“He’s worried someone broke you in prison. He’s got a shrink coming in next week to help you with the trauma.”

“I was only in jail for a day. What does he think happened to me?” Caleb coughed a little. “Well, any number of things can happen to an incarcerated person. Dehydration, injuries due to violent acts, staph infections.” He leaned in, his voice going low. “Sexual injuries. You don’t have to be afraid or embarrassed. I’ve seen it all.”

“OMG, I was in lockup for twenty-four hours in the Dallas County Jail, not lost in some third world country. I’m fine. They gave me water. I didn’t even have time to acquire a girlfriend. Tell Stef to stuff it.” She turned to Callie. “I am hungry, though. They tried to give me bologna.”

Callie shuddered as she grabbed their coats. “We should go to Stella’s for lunch, then.”

“Hey, I have a job to do here.” Caleb got between her and the door.

Callie patted his chest. “I wouldn’t, Caleb, sweetie. She’s like Rachel.”

Caleb paled slightly and backed down. “Okay, then. Um, well, if you need anything or, you know, start to remember stuff like torture, call me. You know, post-traumatic stress can hit you when you least expect it.”

“He’s insane,” Jen stated as they walked out the door.

Callie pointed toward the snowmobiles on the lawn. “You expected different? He was the best we could get. He’s a damn fine surgeon, and he’s feeling his way as a general practitioner. He used to work at a big hospital in Chicago, but something happened and, well, let’s just say Caleb knows where of he speaks when he talks about post-traumatic stress disorder. You should see him get together with Mel. Caleb is sure Mel is repressing trauma that happened while in the military, and Mel is certain Caleb’s been probed.”

“Nice,” Jen said, hopping on the back of the snowmobile.

“They’ve gotten to be really good friends.” Callie gunned the engine and headed toward Stella’s.

“What the hell do you mean he’s dead?” Stef heard himself shouting, but he couldn’t help it.

Finn Taylor’s voice was perfectly smooth over the speaker. “The police were called out to Ms. Waters’ complex when the movers Stef sent got there to finish cleaning out her apartment. The police entered and found a Caucasian male aged thirty-five with his throat slit from ear to ear in the living room. One of the detectives called to the scene remembered Renard from the day before. His receptionist made the official identification. Jean Claude Renard is dead.” Stef felt his stomach churn. This was trouble. It had started out as bad trouble, but this was much worse than he expected.

Nate sat back in his chair, crossing one booted foot over his knee.

He looked every inch the lawman he was. “Do the police have any idea what Renard was doing in Jennifer’s apartment? We locked up after we left.”

There was a little sigh. “Gentlemen, this crime is so fresh I have very little information about it. The only reason I know what I know is my partner’s extremely good relationship with the chief of police.” Stef snorted. That was a delicate way of putting it. Julian Lodge probably had more dirt on the chief of police than he could imagine.

Owning Dallas’s most exclusive sex club put Lodge in a position of power. None of which would help Jen if Stef himself couldn’t keep her safe.

“Do the police know the time of death?” Zane asked. Zane sat in the office with Stef and Nate, their previous fight forgotten after Stef had promised to keep his lips far from Callie. Though the big guy annoyed Stef on occasion, he was a close friend. Despite his current profession of bar owner, Stef knew he’d been a damn good cop at one point in time.

“Yes, they estimate that Renard was killed at approximately ten o’clock this morning.”

“So, just as our plane was taking off for Colorado, Renard was getting offed by someone.”

There was a new voice added to the crowd. “The wounds, were there any hesitation marks?”

Stef looked up to see Caleb Burke in the doorway. The former trauma surgeon was staring at the speaker as though it was a person he was talking to.

“Um, I don’t know. Give me a second.” Taylor’s side of the conversation was put on hold.

“You think it’s a pro?” Zane asked, looking at the doc.

Caleb’s head jerked slightly in the affirmative. Stef was getting used to the doctor’s somewhat odd mannerisms. He was an excellent doctor, if a bit too thorough for some of his patients’ tastes.

“What makes you think that?” Stef asked, dreading the answer.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d been praying this was all a huge mistake. He’d hoped that Renard had damaged the painting and was too much of a coward to own up to it. It wouldn’t be the first time a wealthy man set up one of his employees to take the fall. Stef could solve that problem. He would throw money at PIs until they dug up enough crap on Renard to get him to back his ass down. This was something different.

“It takes a lot of strength to slit a throat,” Caleb said, his voice hard and distant. “It’s not like cutting a piece of cake. There’s skin and muscle and sinew. To do it right and kill instantly, you have to cut to the bone. It takes power and practice to really learn how to slit a throat.”

“So we’re not talking about some random robber or an angry girlfriend?” Stef asked.

Nate shook his head. “Nope. He’s right. Whoever did this wanted it to be quiet and quick. He knew there wasn’t anyone in the apartment, and he wasn’t worried about someone walking in. Shit, our prints are all over the place. You’ll need to come with me. Logan can print you. Mine are in the database. They’ll need to eliminate us.” There was a little hiss as the speaker came back on. “Okay, I just talked to the officer in charge. There’s good news, and there’s bad news.”

“Give me the bad news.”

“The police searched Renard’s apartment and didn’t find the painting. They also didn’t find it at Jennifer’s house when they executed the search warrant yesterday.” Well, that was too much to hope for. “And the good?”