“Later.”

“Later.”

Mike hit the button on his phone, turned back to his desk, looked across the expanse and the expanse of the desk pushed up against it, front-to-front, and caught his partner, Garrett “Merry” Merrick’s eyes on him.

“You gonna talk?” Merry prompted.

He’d been listening. Mike wasn’t surprised. That’s what partners did.

He hadn’t shared. Not yet. Then again, it had only been a day.

But Merry was his partner. So he shared.

“Remember Dusty Holliday?”

Merry tipped his head to the side and said, “Yeah. Vaguely.”

“She was in town for her brother’s funeral this weekend.”

Merry’s face grew understanding even as his lips twitched and he repeated, this time in a question, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” was all Mike said.

Merry’s mouth stopped twitching and started grinning.

“You hit that?” he asked.

Mike stared at him.

Merry pressed his lips together before he unpressed them to mumble, “You hit it.” Then he said straight out, “Good for you, man.”

“Better,” Mike said shortly and Merry’s eyebrows drew together.

“Better?”

“The One,” Mike declared and Merry’s brows shot up.

“The One?” Merry asked.

“The One,” Mike confirmed.

“In a weekend?” Merry asked.

“In a weekend,” Mike confirmed.

“No shit?” Merry whispered.

“Absolutely no fuckin’ shit,” Mike answered.

Merry whistled. Then he smiled.

Then he repeated, “Good for you, man.”

“Oh yeah,” Mike muttered.

Merry tipped his head to Mike’s phone. “She got issues?”

“An ex who isn’t comfortable with that title.”

“Fuck,” Merry murmured.

“Yeah,” Mike replied. “She’s got a friend who’s a cop. He’s takin’ her back and reporting in.”

“She down with that?”

“It was her idea.”

Merry smiled again. “Least that’s good.”

“Yeah,” Mike repeated then grabbed his phone. “They had an incident. Gotta call her, see if she’s okay then we’ll hit the road.”

Merry tipped up his chin and turned to his computer. Mike tagged his phone and called Dusty. It was the third time that day. None of which he’d connected. This wasn’t surprising, she’d told him the day before she had to get down to it in order to get ready for her showing.

His call went to voicemail.

This time, he was surprised especially after she’d had an incident.

Maybe she was at boot camp.

He left a message. “Hey Angel, it’s me. Checkin’ in. Rivera called. Call me back. Let me know you’re good. Later.”

Then he hit the button to disconnect, caught Merry’s eyes, Merry hit a few keys on his keyboard and Mike pushed out his chair. He grabbed his jacket then they hit the road.

* * *

Tuesday afternoon…


Dusty’s phone rang a-fucking-gain. Beau swiped it off his coffee table and stared at the display.

Mike Calling.

Fourth time that day.

Well, fuck Mike.

He dropped the phone on his floor, lifted his foot and slammed the heel of his cowboy boot down on it.

The phone crushed instantly to pieces.

He kicked the pieces across the living room of his shitty-ass new apartment that was more of a mess than Dusty could create.

This was because he hadn’t cleaned it in four months and he no longer had Yolanda.

Pulling his eyes from the scattered phone debris, he stomped to his kitchen to get a beer.

* * *

Wednesday afternoon…


Clarisse was in the kitchen to grab some corn chips when her Dad’s phone rang.

She jumped and stared at it guiltily. This was because it was after school. No was at some girl’s house supposedly studying. Her Dad was at work. And she was supposed to be doing her homework but she was watching TV. This was reiterated ten minutes ago when her Dad came home unexpectedly to get something, caught her watching TV and reminded her she should be doing her homework.

His phone was sitting on the counter. That was weird. He’d gone to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and he must have put it down and forgotten it.

She moved to it and saw the screen said, “Dusty Calling”.

Dusty.

Was that a boy’s name or a hot babe’s name?

Before her mind told her hand to do it, she did what she knew she shouldn’t do. She did what she knew her Dad would get totally ticked at her doing because he got work calls on his phone. She did what she’d catch it for if her Dad ever knew she did it.

Heart hammering and hands suddenly sweating, she hit the button to take the call and put her phone to her ear.

“Uh…hello, um…Dad’s phone.”

This was met with silence then a very pretty, adult female voice asking, “Clarisse?”

It was the hot babe.

And she knew Clarisse’s name.

Clarisse didn’t know what to think of this.

“Uh…yeah,” Clarisse confirmed.

“Hey, honey. This is Dusty. Is your Dad around?”

“Uh…no. He, uh…forgot his phone.”

“Oh,” the woman called Dusty mumbled then she said, “Right, okay, can you do me a favor and tell him I called? Tell him I lost my cell, can’t find it anywhere and if he needs to call, he should call the house or the shed. Can you do that?”

“Um…sure.”

“Thanks, Clarisse.”

“Uh…you’re welcome.”

“Okay, you take care. You hear?”

“Um…you too.”

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye.”

Clarisse listened as the woman called Dusty disconnected.

She called Clarisse honey just like her Dad called her honey. It came easy, natural but, even never meeting her, it sounded weirdly real.

She didn’t know what to think of that either.

Then, before her mind told her fingers to do it, before she even knew why she did it, her thumb started hitting buttons. Like any child born in the technical age, she didn’t know her father’s phone but without delay or effort she found what she needed to find. Then she deleted the woman called Dusty’s call from her father’s history.

Then she licked her lips and put the phone down on the counter hoping she placed it exactly where her Dad left it and she was careful with this. He noticed stuff. She didn’t know if this was because he was a cop or a Dad. She had no idea in reality it was both.

And as she stood there, she began to wonder why she’d deleted the woman called Dusty’s history from her Dad’s phone. Then she began to wish she hadn’t. Then she really wished she hadn’t.

She jumped nearly out of her skin when she heard the front door open. Layla, who’d been hanging out in the kitchen with Clarisse wondering if Clarisse was feeling generous, dashed to the door. Clarisse whirled toward it and saw her Dad walking in, Layla at his heels.

He smiled at her and said a soft, “Hey, honey.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Left my cell,” he muttered and moved to the counter while Clarisse watched.

Now what did she do? First, she’d taken the call and her Dad would get ticked at that. Then she’d deleted the call from his history and she didn’t know why she did it so she couldn’t explain it to him. And since she had, she couldn’t give him the woman called Dusty’s message.

Her Dad tagged his phone and turned to her.

“You hittin’ the homework?” he asked.

“Just gettin’ brain food,” she lied.

He grinned at her before he tagged her with a hand behind her head and yanked her so she did a face plant into his chest. She felt his body bow as he bent and kissed the top of her head.

She loved it when he did that. Mom never did anything like that. No kept telling Clarisse that Mom loved them just as much as Dad, she just wasn’t as good at showing it. Clarisse didn’t believe that. If you loved someone, you found a way to show it so the person you loved knew it.

Her Dad let her go and started to move away, murmuring, “Be back around quarter after five, five thirty.”

“Dad,” she called, he stopped in the kitchen door and looked at her.

She didn’t know what to say. If she said what she should, he’d get angry. She liked her Dad loving on her, not angry at her.

“Reesee, honey, I gotta go. You got somethin’ to say?” he prompted.

“Uh…what do you want for dinner?”

His head tipped to the side and his brows drew together.

“You cookin’?”

She hated to cook. No loved it but made a mess that she had to clean up if he cooked so she hated No to cook too.

Still, if you loved someone, you found ways to show it and her Dad worked hard. She knew he took overtime a lot because they needed the money seeing as he was raising two kids on his own. But he’d always done that. Before they broke up, she heard her Mom and Dad fighting about it more than once. Mom up in his face about never being home, Dad reminding Mom that he took the overtime the other detectives didn’t want because he had to pay Mom’s bills. She wasn’t supposed to hear this but she did because she left her room and sat in the hall outside theirs and listened. It wasn’t hard to hear her Mom, even all the way back in Clarisse’s room. Mom was loud anyway but she also shouted a lot. But if Clarisse wanted to hear Dad, she had to sit outside their room since he talked quiet.

He still took overtime. Not as much but he took it. He shouldn’t have to come home and cook most nights.

“Uh…sure,” she told Dad.

He grinned.

She’d done good.

“Me and No’ll eat whatever you make, sweetheart.”

“Mac and cheese and hot dogs?” she asked.

“Sounds perfect,” he said softly.

She smiled at him.

“Homework, Reesee,” he reminded her then, “See you soon.”

“Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, beautiful.”

He left. She grabbed brain food and a pop and went directly to her Dad’s office to switch on the computer. Then she went to her room to get her books and drag them to the office. Layla followed her throughout her movements and then settled on her side by the desk chair in the office while Clarisse got down to work.

She was done with her homework and had the pasta in the water by the time he got home.

* * *

Thursday late evening…


Mike listened to the phone ring but didn’t have a lot of hope.

This was his ninth call since Tuesday morning. He hadn’t called any of her other numbers because he knew she was busy and if she was in her shed or at the gallery, he’d disturb her. He’d only called her cell.

Now it was ten his time, nine hers and he’d just got no answer on her cell so was trying her house.

And he was trying not to have a knee-jerk reaction and think she was playing games. Since divorcing Audrey, he’d found that bullshit missed calls and ignoring voicemails were games women liked to play. Games of the heart. Games he’d learned the hard way not to play.

“Hello?”

She answered.

He made an effort to control his temper.

“Dusty,” he replied.

“Finally!”

He blinked at his cocked knees. He was sitting in nothing but pajama bottoms, back to the headboard in his bed.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“That’s what I’ve been wanting to know from you for three days.”

“What?”

“Dusty, I’ve called nine times and left four voicemails.”

“Oh, honey, God. I’m sorry. I lost my cell phone. Didn’t Clarisse tell you?”

His neck got tight.

“Clarisse?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah. I lost my cell and didn’t have any of your numbers memorized. Hunter only has your cell. So I called it yesterday. Clarisse answered and I gave her a message. Told her to ask you to call me on the home phone or at the shed.”

“Reesee answered my cell?”

Dusty was silent.

“Dusty,” he called. “My daughter answered my cell?”

“If I say yes, are you gonna get pissed at your girl?”

“Uh…yeah.”

“Then I decline to answer.”

Fuck.

His eyes went from his knees to the closed door of his bedroom. Why would Clarisse take a call? And if she did, why wouldn’t she give him a message?

Fuck.

“Mike?”

“I use my cell for work. She knows she’s not supposed to touch it,” he explained.

“Maybe it was a mistake.”

“Right, then, if it was, why did she not give me your message?”

“Well,” she said slowly, “I don’t have an answer to that.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.