Christie Craig - Gotcha!

You lucky bastard.

Sergeant Jake Baldwin looked up from his desk and found Mark Donaldson, the new detective in the department and his sometime partner, leaning his head inside the office door.

Why am I lucky? Jake asked and shouldered back in his chair.

Donaldsons chickenshit grin widened. She says she needs you, and only you will do. He looked down the hall, then shot off as if someone chased him. Hey, who needs? Jakes question tripped over his lips as a blonde, a dead ringer for Marilyn Monroe in her chubbier years, sashayed into his office. She didnt walk. She sashayed.

About a foot from his desk she stopped moving, but her body didnt. Her breasts, squeezed into a low-cut red tank top, continued to bounce. Up. Down. Up. Behind her, two Houston police officers paused, their tongues dangling out like hounds. Jakes tongue remained in his mouth. Hed never been a Monroe fan.

His visitor leaned over to pull out a chair, and he got a peek at her cleavagewhich led him to realize maybe you didnt really have to be a true fan to appreciate a look-alike. He glanced away. Gawking was crude. Besides, hed stopped letting women know they had the upper hand. They still had it, of course. He was, after all, flesh and blood, but he refrained from giving them the leverage that came with knowing. His ex-fiance, now sister-in-law, had taught him better. What can I do for you? he asked, but his male mind was already considering options. Then he gave her another onceover. She was twenty, maybe? At thirty-one, Jake refused to date anyone who might still believe in Santa.

Miss Monroe opened her mouth to speak, and Jake waited for her sweet husky voice to flow over him, sound effects to add to the fantasies that no doubt hed have later on. His fantasies had no problems with a twenty-year-old. And lately, fantasies were all he had.

My names Ellie Chandler. Her voice, some would call it cartoonisha really bad cartooncame out two octaves above chalk screeching across a blackboard. Youre Jake Baldwin, riiiight?

Jake jerked, knocking over his coffee mug. God help him. No, God help her, he thought, grabbing the cup and saving his files from the spill. No wonder the Almighty gave her that body. Hed been trying to make up for the voice.

She continued talking, and Jake would have done almost anything to shut her up. Anything but be rude. For the son of a Baptist preacher, rudeness wasnt an option, even for a religious backslider like himself. He finger-locked his hands in front of him and forced his attention on her. Every spoken syllable was like bowel surgery.

Im here to report a murder.

He sighed. Then you need to talk to Homicide. I work Robbery. Please God, let it be that easy.

God wasnt listening.

I want to talk to you.

Why me? he asked both the blonde and the Almighty.

Because you know what hes like. Youre the one who put him away.

Put who away?

David Tanks. My ex-boyfriend.

Jake remembered Tanks. Too many tattoos. A dealer with a mean streak and a drug habit of his own.

And because I love Billy now, Davids threatening to kill him. Hes even threatened Billys sister. He called her one dead bitch.

Jake shook his head to clear her voice from his ears. Tanks is still doing time, isnt he?

Yes. Ellie Chandler nodded vigorously, and her tank top strained to contain the jiggling. Up. Down. Jake had to force his eyes from lowering.

So, the murder you want to reportIt hasnt happened? No ones dead yet?

He cut the mans head off. Id say that killed him.

Jake stiffened. Whose head?

I dont know.

Where did this happen?

I wasnt thereher green eyes rolledso how would I know?

Okay. She wasnt making a ton of sense, but hed give it one more shot. When did the murder happen?

Last year, I think. David got drunk and bragged about it. I want you to pin it on him and then get him moved in with the dangerous prisonersaway from the good ones.

Good prisoners? Unlocking his fingers, Jake pressed his palms on his desk. Suddenly, the pieces of the blondes story began to fit together. Wheres Billy?

In prison with David. But dont murderers get moved away from people who accidentally rob a convenience store?

Accidentally robbed a store? Jake tried to keep the disrespect from his voice.

The blonde started chattering again, and Jake listened. His eardrums throbbed. At last he reached for a yellow notebook and wrote down her contact info. Then he jotted, Tanksthreatened to kill Billys sister. Glancing right at her, and for the sake of politeness, he said, Miss Chandler, Im glad you came in. Sons of Baptist preachers occasionally lied, but only when politeness was on the line.

She blinked, and something close to intelligence flashed in her green eyes. Youre not going to do a thing, are you?

Okay, hed try one more time to reason with her. Honestly, you need to talk to Homicide. He then watched her storm out.

Though the view was nice, his gaze dropped back to his pad. Tanksthreatened to kill Billys sister. Sadly, if a cop jumped every time one inmate threatened to hurt anothers mother or sister, the whole damn force would be too busy playing leapfrog to do its job.

Youre his sister.

No! Macy Tucker said, dropping her veggie burger onto her plate. She should have guessed something was up when her mother served a lunch entre that didnt include butchered livestock. Macy had been a vegetarian since she was sixteen. Twelve years later, her mother still felt it was a passing fad. Of course, her mom, clueless at times, also waited for Macys dad to walk back in and yell, Im home. Get me a beer, would ya? Never mind hed been gone for fourteen years; she kept waiting. Not that Macy would want him back.

Siblings are supposed to

Its not happening, Mom.

Macys chest clutched when her mothers blue eyes filled with tears. Not that Faye Moores crying would surprise anyone. In the last three years, she had taken her part-time job of hysterics and made it a full-fledged career. Hundreds of trees had fallen to make the facial tissues to dry her eyes. The doctor said it was menopause. Macy decided it was men