Chapter 22 #2
Joy turned her startled eyes to Amy. “I’m so sorry, Amy.
I was worried when I didn’t see anyone, and with the Micky situation and all …
” Her gaze returned to Shane, again moving over his entire frame.
“But it looks like you’ve got everything …
handled.” Her gaped-mouth expression slowly transformed into a smirk.
Amy grabbed Joy’s upper arm and practically shoved her out the door, bolting after her. “What can I get you this morning, Joy?”
Shane heard Joy say, “It’s what you can get for me and Estelle. This is her last day,” as her voice trailed off.
“Great,” he muttered. “Just great.” Well, Estelle leaving Fall River was great, but her being on the other side of the wall wasn’t.
He was more motivated now to hang out in Amy’s office and pick things up for her.
As he bent to grab pens, he realized with horror that the apron had slipped.
It hadn’t done a damn thing to hide his boner.
“Oh, even better!” he mocked aloud. Of course, if he hadn’t let his savage self take control and try to do Amy on her desk, Joy Hunnicutt would have had no idea what had really been going on.
The bulge in his pants was evidence he couldn’t explain away.
Didn’t have anywhere else to put my socks, so I slid them into my pants.
He paused for a moment, letting a slow grin form.
Suddenly, he liked the idea of Joy knowing exactly what they had been up to on Amy’s desk.
Joy would finally get that he and Estelle were never going to happen, and she’d talk her friend out of chasing him.
Then she’d tell Charlie, who would tell Noah, who would tell Hailey, and Dixie would overhear it.
The whole town would know by lunch time that Amy Caufield and Shane O’Brien had been romping in her office.
God, he loved Fall River!
He picked up the stapler and turned it over, looking for damage.
Finding none, he placed it on the desk and let his mind wander back to what had been happening on that surface mere minutes ago.
He’d never finger-fucked a woman on a desk before.
Or done anything else remotely sexual with her on a desk either.
Not only had the opportunity never presented itself, but he’d never even considered it beyond the odd teacher fantasy.
With Amy, though, his mind raced from one filthy possibility to the next.
Something about her brought it out in him.
He wanted to try everything with her. Do everything to her wherever and whenever. Over and over and over.
Dropping to one knee, he gathered the scattered papers and the tray where they belonged. Huh. Wonder what order they were in?
He placed the tray in its spot on Amy’s desk, stacking the documents beside it.
Cupping his nape, he stared at them and debated.
The sound of women’s voices—and one in particular that sent a shiver of dread through him—made up his mind for him.
He’d check the paperwork and arrange it by date.
The task would help him stall for time, and with any luck, he’d be able to hide out in here until Estelle was gone.
He plopped into Amy’s office chair and began shuffling through the documents.
There were shipping manifests, invoices, and various bits of correspondence—all the usual benign stuff one would expect to find in a business office.
As he sifted through the paperwork, he discovered an undated packing slip tucked between two invoices.
Besides not having a date he could use to slot it into its proper order, it was different than the shipping manifests and other packing slips.
Across the top was a company name that didn’t match any of the others; there was no address, no phone number, no email address.
Neat columns of numbers lined up but didn’t spell out any product.
In the margin, someone had drawn a circle around a numbered dot in black Sharpie and scrawled “mm38—2330—D” beside it.
His stomach dropped. The crude sketch matched the ones he’d seen on the map he’d tried to forget.
He should have ignored this too, should have kept going, but the doubts he’d buried shot to the surface.
Dropping the papers onto her desk, he stood up and moved toward the bookshelf.
He wedged his fingers behind the shelf but came up empty.
Then he shook the shelf and heard the telltale slide of paper.
One corner of the map peeked out, and he eased it from its hiding spot.
Unfolded it. It had more markings than the last time he’d seen it.
He turned it one way, then another, and the thing that had been niggling at him blazed on like the beam of a flashlight.
What he held was a smaller version of a map that hung on the wall in the Sheriff’s Department.
A map of Fall River and the surrounding areas, including a huge swath of wilderness. An area he patrolled.
What the hell does Amy need a map like this for? Why is it hidden? What are these markings about?
He peered a little closer at one of the red triangles. Was that …? A stab of shock jolted him.
Feminine laughter rose from the store, giving him another start, followed by someone thanking someone else. Joy and Estelle were leaving.
Shit!
Shane’s fingers shook as he pulled out his phone and took pictures of the map and the packing slip. The entire time, an argument raged inside him. He was sworn to uphold the law, he reminded himself, and these documents might be vital clues in the investigation into the narcotics drops.
But how did he square that with the fact he was in love with a woman who had possession of those vital clues? Why were they in her office?
Questions tumbled over themselves. How should he play this?
Did she even know these were there? She had to know about the packing slip, didn’t she?
It was right there in her inbox. Would she balk when she discovered he’d shuffled through her papers?
He’d have to observe her reaction, look for a tell.
And he hated himself for even going there.
Where did his loyalty lie?
The questions rocketed through his brain while he hurriedly gathered up the rest of the documents and loaded them in the tray.
The faint tinkling of a bell alerted him Joy and Estelle were leaving the store, and he pushed a cleansing breath through his lungs. The bell tinkled again, followed by a different voice. Shane’s blood turned to ice.
Micky.