Free The Damsel in This Dress by Marianne Stillings Page B

much down as I can, then I’m going to send you an e-mail with all the data. I want you to get your ass up to Port Henry and run some checks.”
    “What? Is the Seattle PD closed for repairs or something? Why me?”
    “Because you’re off this weekend, and this is all still unofficial. We’ve got nothing.”
    There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. “Sure, big brother. But can’t the cops in Port Henry handle this?”
    “No.”
    A moment passed. Finally, “You want to tell me about it?”
    Soldier closed his eyes and thought for a moment. “It’s hard to explain. She’s . . . she’s not what I expected.”
    As though timing her entrance perfectly, Betsy emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. She absently toweled her hair as she smiled down at the dog nipping at her toes. Her cheeks were pink from scrubbing, her plush lips curved into a gentle smile. She wore an old-fashioned flannel nightgown that had tiny pink flowers all over it and lace at the neckline and wrists. Though it covered her from her chin to her ankles and revealed absolutely nothing, it was the sexiest nightgown Soldier had ever seen.
    “Jack? Hello? Hey, you’re not falling for this woman, are you? Jackson?”

Chapter 5
     
     
    “I ’ve gone twenty-eight years without being interrogated by the police. I see no reason to start now, especially over something so silly.” Betsy took a sip of the steaming hot chocolate Soldier had ordered for her from room service. She was hoping it would settle her nerves, but it wasn’t working.
    They were seated in his hotel room at a small table near the window. Piddle lay curled in her lap, deep in doggie slumber. It was nearly eleven o’clock and she was exhausted, but the detective wanted to get some information from her to pass on to his brother, who was apparently also a cop.
    Soldier looked up from his laptop computer. “Not interrogated. Interviewed. There’s a difference,” he stated. He looked just as tired as she felt, but where her energy levels were waning, his seemed to be revving up.
    The Seattle investigators had come in and taken some fingerprints from inside the closet, the closet door, the minifridge, and a few other places. Soldier didn’t seem to hold out much hope of finding any kind of match, but then, you never could tell, as the saying goes.
    He’d asked her a few more questions, but since she was not a resident of Seattle and would be returning home in a few days, there wasn’t much more he could do except file a report.
    Across from her now, Soldier McKennitt’s face was unreadable as he prepared to interview her. Every aspect of her life would be keyed into his computer. To know the victim is to know the criminal, he’d said.
    She let the warmth from the mug she held infuse her palms as she regarded Soldier. His fingers moved over the keyboard as he entered information about her into the database.
    She had decided she wouldn’t answer his questions. He couldn’t make her do this. There was no official investigation going on. He’d even told her that no actual crime had been committed.
    While in the shower, she’d determined that she wasn’t really being stalked. No way, no how. She also decided she was sorry she had dragged her mother into it. That, as usual, was a given. She’d call her mother in the morning and set things straight.
    “Soldier?”
    “Hmm?” He didn’t look up, but kept typing.
    “Soldier, I don’t think . . . I mean, I don’t want to do this. It’s not necessary.”
    The rapid clicking stopped as his fingers stilled on the keyboard. He raised his gaze to meet hers. “It is necessary.”
    The words hung between them as the seconds passed. Betsy lowered her lashes, focusing on the chocolate froth at the bottom of her cup. Her stomach was tied in a thousand little knots. Her nerves were stretched from Seattle to Port Henry and beyond. Her mind was thick with uncertainty. The decision she’d made was about the