some common sense into his thick, literal head.
“Why yes, genius, I believe you’re right,” Brock drawled. “And…Mitch didn’t smoke.”
“I know—”
“Until he went to prison.” Brock picked up the ashtray and studied the round crystal dish as if it held all the answers to his questions.
Had Mitch been there or had someone else broken into the place and made themselves right at home? Was Mitch there now? If not, would he return again soon? Had he suspected they’d come there or worse, had he hired someone to follow them?
Having them tailed wouldn’t be beneath him.
Rory glanced around the room before turning his attention to Brock. “You don’t think it was Mitch. I can tell. You believe someone else has been here.”
“I don’t know,” he said, waving his hand toward the hall. “Go check on Trixie and stay with her.”
“Right.” Rory exited the apartment without a second to spare.
Brock rummaged through the trash. After confirming the wastebasket was full of beer cans and a few straw covers wadded up in tiny balls, he was convinced.
Mitch had definitely been there.
When he’d arrived and when he’d left weighed heavily on his mind, but the real question was—would Mitch return?
* * * *
Trixie turned off the water and threw back the shower curtain.
“Oh my God, Rory!” she screamed, grabbing a burgundy towel off the rack. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in here?”
Rory shot her a heated glance.
“Something is wrong,” she said, securing the towel under her arms and overlapping the corners between her breasts.
“It’s probably nothing.” He cupped her damp cheek. “I was just worried about you and wanted to be nearby. Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, inhaling the air. Sniffing deliberately then, she loosened the towel and drew the material to her nose. “I knew it.”
Rory looked as if he’d seen a ghost. “Mitch?”
Trixie jerked the heavy cotton around her body once more and stepped away from the tub. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Why don’t you tell me then because I haven’t a clue,” Rory rasped, his gaze pinned to her chest.
Trixie pushed by him. “I know why the two of you brought me here.”
“Trixie, wait,” Rory said, trying to grab hold of her wrist before she hurried by him.
Shaking off his grip, she rushed into Mitch’s apartment and immediately tilted her nose in the air. “That’s it.” She wheeled around and faced him. “He’s here. Isn’t he?”
“She smells his cologne on the towel.” Rory acted as if it were his lone duty to fill Brock in as quickly as possible.
Trixie stared at the coffee table. “Is he here or not?”
“I don’t know,” Brock replied, traipsing across the room. He opened closets and slammed doors. He marched into the bedroom and did the same, conducting a search, one that would perhaps answer questions or leave them to question the unanswerable.
“He’s been here. That’s why you brought me here. You’re trying to lure him back to Cow Camp. Aren’t you?”
Brock and Rory locked gazes.
“Stop doing that!” Trixie screamed, shaking from head to toe. The chill in the air was extra crisp when the overhead cooling unit shot a breeze of cold air across the room.
“Get dressed, Trixie.” Brock went to the refrigerator. “We need to talk.”
He opened up the fridge and a loud gasp resounded. Trixie didn’t even bother to look as she walked to the corner of the room where their luggage was stacked.
She knew what Brock had discovered. Mitch’s favorite snacks were likely accommodated by several cases of his preferred imported beer.
Rory frowned. “I thought Bertie said Mitch hadn’t returned here after his release.”
Brock slammed the refrigerator door and the bottles inside rattled. “Bertie has been covering Mitch’s ass since he was old enough to charm her into believing he thought of her as his second mother.”
“A second mother
Jamie Wang
Karl Edward Wagner
Lori Foster
Cindy Caldwell
Clarissa Wild
Elise Stokes
Kira Saito
Peter Murphy
Andrea Camilleri
Anna Martin