Finding Shayla Page 2

  “We’ve got all night,” Cayenne said. “We’ll do as much or as little as you’re comfortable with, okay?”

  Shayla nodded. Her who body was buzzing, and she knew it wasn’t from the wine. Cayenne touched something inside her, something long since dormant. She’d spent the past few years craving a gentle touch, a peaceful lovemaking. But she’d been denied.

  And now here she was. With a woman. What the hell was she thinking? But something about Cayenne made her feel safe, secure. And she wanted to feel that and so much more.

  “What are you thinking?” Cayenne said quietly.

  Shayla shook her head.

  “So many things. I think I know what I want but I’m terrified.”

  “We’ll go slow. May I kiss you again?”

  Shayla couldn’t find her words to describe how much she’d like that. She merely nodded again. She looked into the cobalt blue eyes of Cayenne and saw a need mixed with sheer tenderness. She knew then she would deny her nothing. She would give herself freely and allow Cayenne to teach her things she should have learned long ago.

  This time Cayenne kissed her harder and when Shayla felt Cayenne’s tongue dart into her mouth she almost spilled her wine. The kiss lasted only a moment, but it left her breathless and wanting more.

  “Why don’t we set our drinks down?” Cayenne said. Shayla handed her her wine and sat with her hands in her lap.

  Cayenne kissed her again and eased her back, so they were lying on the bed. Every nerve ending in Shayla’s body hummed. She wanted Cayenne, this woman, in a way she hadn’t wanted anyone in a very long time. Possibly her whole life.

  Shayla arched her back as the kiss intensified, offering herself to Cayenne. Cayenne ran her hand down Shayla’s bare arms, igniting a flame everywhere she touched. Shayla felt her nipples tighten painfully and wondered how Cayenne’s mouth would feel on them. She was throbbing between her legs and knew for once, she wouldn’t be forced. It would come naturally.

  She finally pulled her mouth away from Cayenne’s.

  “Would you like to get undressed?” she said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am.”

  “I tell you what. Let’s strip to our underwear. I don’t want you getting naked with me just because you think you have to.”

  “I don’t think that, but okay.”

  Cayenne stood and tossed her wallet on the bedside table. She threw her shorts and shirt over the back of the desk chair. She looked amazing in her boxers and A-shirt. Shayla wanted to run her hands over every inch of that tight body. Her palms itched knowing she’d soon get to.

  She stepped out of her sundress and stood in her bikini briefs. She felt exposed and vulnerable. She needed to get out of her head. This is how it started. The pain, the ungodly pain of being taken when she wasn’t ready.

  Shayla braced herself for the criticism. Her breasts were too small. She was too fat. She starved herself. Had for years, yet Robin still complained.

  “You look terrified,” Cayenne said gently. “Are you okay?”

  An uninvited tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away and nodded.

  “Come here. Let me hold you.”

  Cayenne enveloped her in her strong arms and Shayla held tight. She took a deep breath. This wasn’t Robin. This was Cayenne. And everything was going to be all right.

  When she’d quit shaking, Shayla stepped back and took Cayenne’s hand. She led her back to the bed and lay back, pulling Cayenne on top of her. Cayenne kissed her lips, her cheeks, her neck.

  “You’re magnificent,” Cayenne breathed. “So gorgeous.”

  Shayla relaxed again and reveled in the sensations Cayenne was creating. Her words, her tone, her touch. Everything she did made Shayla feel special, attractive, desired.

  Cayenne kissed lower until her mouth was poised above Shayla’s nipples. She looked at Shayla, eyes pleading.

  “May I?”

  Shayla nodded and gasped at the feel of Cayenne’s talented tongue on her aching nipples.

  “Don’t stop. Oh, God,” Shayla said.

  “Mm,” Cayenne responded.

  She was close. Shayla was so close. She was teetering on the precipice of a chasm. This chasm was one she longed to tumble into.

  While Cayenne kept pleasing her, Shayla felt Cayenne’s hand slide between her leg. She froze. Logic told her it would be fine. Cayenne wouldn’t hurt her. Years and years of conditioning made her protect herself. She closed her legs. Tight.

  “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I can’t.”

  “Sh. It’s okay.” Cayenne drew her into her arms and held her while she trembled. “Want to talk about it?”

  Shayla wanted to. She wanted so desperately to open up and let it all out to Cayenne. But was that fair to her? She’d thought she was going to get a roll in the hay. The last thing she probably wanted was to play counselor.

  “That’s okay,” Shayla said.

  “It’s really not. What did he do to you, Shayla? Tell me.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Oh, you know. The usual. Criticized how I looked, what I did, everything about me. Beat me, raped me.”

  The tears flowed in earnest.

  “Fucker,” Cayenne said.

  Shayla took a deep breath.

  “But, on the upside, he’s gone now.”

  “No wonder you were out celebrating. I want to kill the mother fucker myself.”

  “No need to waste your energy on that. He’s gone.”

  “Let’s get some sleep,” Cayenne said. “You’re safe here. Tonight.”

  Shayla knew she was safe. For the first time in years, she could sleep and not worry about what might interrupt her. Cayenne felt good. She felt right.

  “You feeling better?” Cayenne’s deep voice soothed her.

  “Mm hm.”

  She pushed aside the guilt at not being able to give Cayenne what she wanted and allowed Cayenne’s strong arms and even breathing to lull her to sleep.

  Chapter Three

  Shayla woke with a pounding head, a terrible thirst, and a bladder about to explode. She was disoriented in the darkness and had no idea where she was. In a flash, everything about the previous day came back to her. She was terrified and ashamed.

  As quietly as she could, she slipped out of bed and tip-toed to the restroom. She finished her business, gulped some water and walked back out to see Cayenne still snoring peacefully. Curious, Shayla walked over to Cayenne’s nightstand and picked up her wallet. She wanted to know more about her. And, while it wasn’t okay to snoop, she couldn’t help herself.

  She opened the billfold and saw the badge. A bright, shiny representation of law enforcement. Shayla trembled in fear. She needed to get away from Cayenne. Far, far away. She dressed in near silence and let herself out into the early morning darkness. She crossed the street, got in her car, and drove home.

  Home. A place that was supposed to now offer her sanctuary. A place where she could live without fear any longer. But she wasn’t living without fear. Her heart raced so fast she was certain she would have a heart attack. What could she do?

  She climbed into her own bed and closed her eyes but couldn’t relax. She couldn’t. She needed to make plans and make them fast. She wondered if Cayenne would come looking for her. For any reason. How many Shaylas were there in Casa Grande? One. One that she knew of. She cursed herself for having given Cayenne her real name.

  Cayenne was gorgeous and didn’t seem the type for more than a one-night roll in the hay. But she was the police. And if she found out the truth about Shayla, she was sure to lock her up for good.

  Shayla went to the attic and pulled down two large suitcases. She set them, open, on her bed and stared at her closet. She had to get away. Far away, but where to go? And what to take? She packed dresses, skirts, and blouses. Then took several pairs of shorts from her dresser. She threw in a few pairs of sandals and felt like she was about ready to go.

  She was feeling dirty. Absolutely
filthy after the occurrences of the day and night before. She took a long, hot shower and slipped into a pair of shorts and a pink T-shirt. She put on her Birkenstocks and was ready to load the car.

  Shayla looked at both cars in the garage and opted to take the Traverse. It was larger, roomier, and had tinted windows so she could load her belongings in it and not be worried about them being seen.

  She put her suitcases in the back of the car and then went back in the house. She surveyed the living room and realized that she didn’t need anything from there. She went into the kitchen and packed some of her favorite cookbooks, then she walked through the rest of the house. She saw the heavy knight statue that he’d always loved. The one she’d spent so much time cleaning the day before. Horrible, horrible memories flooded over her. She didn’t want anything that reminded her of him. Not a damned thing.

  It was nine o’clock by the time Shayla decided to hit the road. She didn’t know where to go. And then she thought of her mom. She hadn’t been allowed to visit her in years. She called her that moment.

  “Hello?”

  “Mom?”

  “Shayla?! Dear? How are you? Are you okay? Oh, Lord how I’ve missed you.”

  “Can I come see you Mom? And stay for a few days? Would that be okay with you?”

  “Of course, sweetheart. Tell me you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll be there in a couple of days. I’ll call you tonight from a hotel, okay?”

  “Are you bringing him with you?” her mom said.

  “No. He left me, Mom. I’m free. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Drive carefully.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  She disconnected and started the journey to Omaha. After she’d driven a few hours, she stopped to get some lunch and stretch her legs. She was at a strip mall and saw the phone store. Shayla looked at the old flip phone her husband had insisted she keep. She wanted a modern, up to date iPhone. She went into the store.

  The store was packed, it being noon on a weekend. But a nice young woman approached Shayla.

  “Can I help you find something?”

  Shayla held up her phone and smiled. The woman laughed.

  “I want an iPhone,” Shayla said.

  “You’re in the right place.”

  She spent the next hour playing with phones and buying a shiny new one. She walked down the mall until she came to a sandwich shop and ordered lunch. While she waited for it to be delivered, she fiddled with her new phone. Once she had it set up just the way she wanted it, she ate her lunch and got back on the road.

  Shayla hooked her phone up and sang along with her favorite songs as she drove and soon, her worries were behind her. With each passing mile, she felt more free and less guilty. Oh, the guilt was still there, but there was less of it. It wasn’t crippling. It was just a niggle. She wondered if she’d ever be completely rid of it. She reasoned she probably wouldn’t. It was something she’d have to live with. But she’d worry about that later. For now, she was free, on the road, and headed toward her mom’s house.

  ***

  Cayenne stretched and allowed herself to wake up slowly. She got out of bed and then remembered she’d gone to bed with Shayla, who was gone. Where was she? Cayenne looked out the window and saw there were no cars at the bar. Shayla must have left in the middle of the night. That was too bad. But, she was a woman with issues. And that was the last thing Cayenne needed in her life.

  She showered and drove back to Lazu and the station. It was surprisingly quiet there considering they’d found a murder victim the day before. She went to find Doc Potter to see what he could tell her.

  “What do we know?” she asked him.

  “He’d been dead about six hours by the time we found him. The blow to the head was the final cause of death, though someone attempted to strangle him, but they apparently weren’t strong enough to finish him off.”

  “Any hints as to where he was killed?”

  “I found a few fibers. I can tell you he was killed on a red carpet. There are some black fibers in there too, though. But that’s about it.”

  “Any ID?” Cayenne said.

  Potter shook his head.

  “I’ve run his prints but haven’t gotten a hit yet. Hopefully soon.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” She turned to leave.

  “Listen, Cayenne. My thoughts are that this was done by a woman. Why? I couldn’t tell you. Who knows why people do what they do? But I’m thinking this is domestic violence.”

  Cayenne nodded her understanding.

  “Appreciate that.”

  Domestic violence. Her thoughts strayed unbidden to Shayla. She’d been lucky. Her husband had just left her. She’d gotten off easy. But what lengths would a woman go to to get away from her abuser?

  She went back to her desk and spent the morning looking up everything she could find on domestic abuse. She wanted to know what percentage of victims killed their abuser. She learned which socio-economic groups had a greater chance of being the victim. Basically, she learned it could happen to anyone.

  And she had a dead white male on her hands. Had he been the abuser? Or had whoever killed him finally gone too far? The marks on his neck indicated someone smaller had tried to strangle him. Was that a woman? His wife? Or a partner? Someone who just happened to be small in stature?

  Her head was spinning as the scope of the investigation seemed to grow wider and wider. She could only hope Potter got a match from the prints. Anything would help. But if the man had kept his nose clean, they’d be dead in the water.

  Her stomach growled and her head pounded. She needed something to soak up the alcohol from the previous night. She walked down to the Burger Barn for grease and carbonation. She finished her lunch and went back to her desk.

  As she sat there with no leads, she allowed her mind to drift back to the night before at the bar. She’d had a lot to drink. Too much, in fact. There were holes in the night. But she clearly remembered being threatened, leaving, and taking Shayla back to her motel.

  She heated up as she thought back on kissing Shayla’s soft, pliable lips and the feel of her thin body pressed against Cayenne. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She needed to change the way she was thinking. She had a murder to solve. She didn’t need to sit at her desk fantasizing about a woman she’d never see again.

  Cayenne pulled up cases of domestic abuse in her county. She surveyed the photos of the men who’d been arrested and wondered how many hadn’t been. She looked at each picture carefully, trying to decide if any of them could be the man they’d found. But none of them looked like him. She’d gotten a good look at his face when she’d spoken with Doc in the morgue and tried to make any of these men her victim. But they weren’t.

  She pulled up the missing person’s registry for the county, but neither of them looked like her guy either. She expanded her search for the state. There were more missing people than she’d imagined, but none of them fit her victim.

  She sat back in her chair and blew out her breath. The reality was she had no idea where the man had come from. If he’d been dead for six hours by the time they found him, he could have come from anywhere. How long had he been in the elements? That was something she needed to ask Doc.

  Her head throbbed and her mouth felt like cotton. She really shouldn’t have gone out the night before. She made her way to the morgue and found Doc eating his lunch.

  “Surely there are more pleasant places to eat than down here,” Cayenne said.

  “It suits me here. I’m in my element.”

  “If you say so. I have a question for you. Should I come back when you’re finished?”

  “Not at all. Ask away.”

  “How long was our guy lying there on the side of the road? Any idea?”

  “Judging by the amount of flies, et cetera, I’d say no more than two hours.”

  “So it was freshly dumped. I need to look at about a four hour radius then.”

  “I’d say that’s acc
urate,” Doc said.

  “Thanks. Any hit on fingerprints?”

  “Really, Cayenne. If I had a hit, do you not think you’d be the first person I told?”

  “Sorry. Okay. I’ll leave you to finish your lunch.”

  Cayenne went back upstairs and rested her head on her hands. Murder. This was happening. And she had nothing to go on. She’d solved murder cases before. In Houston, where she’d been a detective, murder cases had been her bread and butter. So why did she feel so useless now?

  Being hungover certainly didn’t help. She felt exceptionally unprofessional at the moment. Fortunately, no one knew where she’d been or what she’d done the night before. But she did. And she was disgusted with herself.

  She felt that her hands were tied, and had just convinced herself to check out and sleep off the hangover when she heard Doc coming up the stairs.

  “Come here, Cayenne. There’s something I want you to see.”

  She went downstairs with him. There, on his computer screen, was a picture of the dead man. Underneath it said, “Robin Gardner.”

  “That’s him.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We got a match. This guy’s got several DWI’s and a couple public drunkenness charges. He’s your man. Now do your job and get his murderer.”

  Chapter Four

  Cayenne bounded up the stairs two at a time. She pulled up the site on her computer and stared at the picture. She scrolled down and looked at his name again. Robin Gardner. Why did that seem familiar to her?

  She scrolled lower and learned that Robin Gardner was formerly a resident of Casa Grande. Great. Just what she needed. Another trip to Casa Grande. She called the chief of police there.

  “Bryson here.”

  “Hi. This is Sheriff O’Leary of Luza. I’m sorry to bother you but we’ve got a murder victim here and it turns out he was from Casa Grande.”

  “Hello Sheriff. I didn’t think you guys did murders in your little town.”

  “Normally we don’t. But we have one now. I was wondering if I could come up and get some information on this guy. Check out his house. You know, basic police stuff.”