Married Or Not?. Brenda Jackson
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“I’m sorry, but I don’t know much about cars. It was either dark blue or black.” She closed her eyes for a moment. Then she looked at him. “I think it had four doors.”
“Texas plates?”
“I didn’t notice. Seeing two men hurrying to a car didn’t set off any alarms for me. I figured they were late for something.”
“Okay. Then what happened?”
“When they backed out, their headlights blinded me. I couldn’t make out anything at all. Then they gunned the car and sped away.”
“What did you do then?”
“I got into my car and pulled out, preparing to drive away. When I glanced around to make sure there were no other cars, I happened to see—” she swallowed again “—this, uh, this man and he was, uh, he was sprawled near the back door of the restaurant. The way he lay, and the sight of so much blood, made me think he was dead.”
“So you came inside?”
“Yes. I told the manager, who called 911.”
Greg leaned back in the booth and Sherri lifted her cup to her mouth, using both hands. She swallowed some coffee and carefully put the cup down.
“I know this is difficult for you.” He looked at his notes deliberately so he wouldn’t see the vulnerability in her eyes. It was all he could do not to move to the other side of the booth and put his arm around her for comfort. “Did you hear anyone say anything?”
“No.”
“Were you in your car or still standing beside it when their lights blinded you?”
“I was standing beside it.”
Which meant that they would be able to identify her. Great. Just great.
“Okay. I’d appreciate it if you could describe these men to me…whatever you can remember. Were they tall or short, thin or heavy, move with a limp, anything like that?”
She clasped her hands and was silent for a moment. Finally, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not being very helpful, but I didn’t see their faces. I really didn’t pay much attention to them.”
“But you did see them run. Long strides? Short strides? Athletic? Or laboring?”
“Oh. Well, I would say they were both agile. They practically sprinted. They were both tall, at least to me, but then everyone is tall to me.”
“Can you guess a height?”
“Mmm. Maybe five ten, five eleven. How tall are you?”
He was startled by her question. “Six one.”
“I guessed six feet, so I think I’m fairly accurate on their heights.”
“Would you please give me the name of your friend, just in case he may have seen them?”
“Sure.” She gave Greg the name and phone number.
“All right. If you don’t mind coming to the station in the morning I’d like to show you some mug shots as well as get your written statement. I don’t think it will take long.”
“Okay.”
They stood and he escorted her to her car. “I’d like to follow you home, if you don’t mind. I’m somewhat concerned that the men you saw may start looking for you. Let’s keep you as safe as possible.”
“I’m all for that.”
He walked her to her car, noting that the ambulance and the uniforms were gone. Only the yellow tape remained.
Greg waited until Sherri pulled out and headed toward the street and then he pulled in behind her. Once they reached her apartment building, he watched her until she disappeared inside, giving him a little wave as she did.
He needed to get his notes into the computer and get to work.
Sherri hurried into her apartment, closed and locked the door and turned on every light in the place. Then she went into the bathroom and threw up. After she washed her face and rinsed out her mouth, she went into her minuscule kitchen and got out a small carton of yogurt.
She turned out the living room/dining room/kitchen light and went to her bedroom. She glanced at her watch. It was eleven o’clock. She felt as though she’d been up all night. She sat on the side of her bed and finished her yogurt. Then she went in and took a long, warm shower.
When she finally crawled into bed and turned out the light her mind returned to the dead man. She shivered. She hadn’t gone near him but she had seen what he looked like from her car.
Sherri wished she could remember more about those men. They had definitely got a good look at her. Would they think she could identify them? She sincerely hoped not.
When Sherri drifted off to sleep she didn’t dream about the murder. Instead she dreamed about Detective Greg Hogan of Homicide.
In her dream something or someone was chasing her. She was in a panic because she couldn’t get away. Next, Greg Hogan was there. She ran into his arms, knowing she’d be safe. He held her so close she could hear and feel his heart beating. In the next scene she was watching him slowly take off his clothes…baring his broad shoulders and muscled chest, slowly unfastening his pants and sliding them down. She was mesmerized by his male beauty. He held out his hand and she took it, only then aware that she was nude.
He held her close and began to kiss her, which kindled flames of longing in her. He laid her on a wide bed and continued to kiss her as his hand stroked her body. She returned his kisses, feverishly wanting him to make love to her.
Sherri looked into his eyes as he moved away slightly and settled between her legs. Yes! This was what she wanted! She—
She woke up with a start. What in the world? She’d been dreaming about that detective. She sat up in bed and clutched her head. The dream had been so real.
How embarrassing. She had to go to the police station this morning to look at photos and to write out her statement. How was she going to be able to face him after having had such an erotic dream about him? How strange. Why would she have dreamed such a dream? She’d barely noticed him last night.
Liar. You were scared but not so scared that you missed his strong features, his sensuous mouth and his gentleness with you.
She went into the bathroom and took her shower, adjusting the water to be cooler than normal.
Seven
“Hey, Hogan, you’ve got a visitor.”
Greg looked up from the file he was working on and saw Sherri Masterson standing just inside the bull pen area of the station, looking a little lost. He stood, once again irritated by his body’s instant reaction to her.
Today she wore some kind of flowery dress. Greg forced himself to concentrate on why she was here while he strode over to where she waited.
Greg stuck out his hand, “Mornin’, Ms. Masterson. Thank you for coming in. I know last night was very traumatic for you. Did you sleep well?”
His innocent question caused her to turn a fascinating red and she looked away from him. Now what was that about? Had she spent the night with her boyfriend? He didn’t know why, but that thought bothered him.
“Mmm, yes, I slept all right…and please call me Sherri.”
“Sure. And I’m Greg.” He took her elbow and felt her stiffen. He immediately stepped away. “I’ve set up one of the rooms for us so we can have some privacy.”
And she blushed again. What was her problem? He tried not to come across as intimidating, but she was definitely nervous around him.
He cleared his throat. “Would you like some coffee?”
She smiled. “Is it as bad as I’ve heard police