Page 51 of Roughing
“So let me make sure I understand this. We’re dating?”
“Yes. We’re dating.”
“Officially?”
“Yes.” The worry on his face was so damned cute I had to laugh. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No way. The only thoughts I’m having are stripping you naked later tonight.” His crooked smile was sexy as fuck, and I briefly debated asking him to pull over while I had my way with him.
My boss was at the office when we arrived. I introduced Briggs, and Carla was surprisingly civil.
“This is perfect timing.” She sized up Briggs and seemed satisfied rather than annoyed I’d invited him to the office.
“It is?” I was flabbergasted.
“I’m sending you to the Branson Pub on Elm. Having a man with you will look less suspicious. That’s the last place a woman went missing from.”
“Isn’t that by the Puck?” Briggs asked.
“Yes, a few blocks down,” Carla said.
“What latest missing woman? How recent?”
“Symone Walters was in the Branson Pub by herself on Monday night. She left alone after last call. When she didn’t show up for work yesterday, a coworker called her mother. They discovered her car a few blocks from the pub, and she’s nowhere to be found.”
“Monday night?” Briggs choked on the words. I knew exactly what he was thinking because I was thinking the same thing.
“Yes.” Carla turned a curious gaze on Briggs. “Do you know something?”
Briggs and I exchanged worried glances while Carla tapped her foot in the most annoying manner.
“Uh, we do.” I told Carla about Monday night when we left the Puck.
“What time was that?” Carla scratched words onto her ever-present old-school notepad. I preferred a tablet, but Carla didn’t trust them. She’d pointed out multiple times that notepads don’t need charged.
“About ten thirty or eleven, probably.” I looked to Briggs for clarification, and he nodded.
“Have you reported what you heard to the police?”
“Uh, no.”
“You didn’t?” Carla’s eyebrows shot up, censuring me for not knowing better.
“When we couldn’t find anything suspicious, we assumed it was someone letting off steam or in a drunken argument.”
“You heard a scream and you thought—” Carla didn’t finish the sentence. She shook her head in disgust while Briggs and I stood helplessly by. “I’ll call Detective Wright. She’s handling these connected cases and was my partner before I retired. We’ve been sharing info.”
I scowled, annoyed this was the first time I’d heard my boss was working with the Portland PD, even though, in my position, her affiliations were none of my business.
“I’ll call Kate. I’m sure she’ll want to speak to both of you.”
Briggs and I nodded in agreement. I sat quietly while Carla spoke on the phone to her former partner. Briggs, who was used to activity given his profession, walked over to the coffeepot and poured a cup of coffee. I had to cover my mouth to stifle a snort at the look on his face after he took his first sip.
He leaned down to whisper, “What the fuck is this stuff?”
“Pretty bad, isn’t it?”
“‘Bad’ isn’t the word I’d use. It’s like drinking acid.”
