Thief by Stephanie Spicer

Author:Stephanie Spicer [Spicer, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stephanie Spicer, LLC.
Published: 2019-11-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Owen was finding it hard to concentrate two days later, as he re-read Sam’s report from the weekend a third time. All he could think about was that kiss and how much he wanted to do it again. He felt like he was in high school again, unable to control even the simplest urges, which was plain embarrassing. He was a grown man; he could keep his hormones in check. Then he would remember the feel of her in his arms, the quiet moans she made with each pass of his tongue against hers.

Cursing, he stood to pace behind his desk. If he didn’t get a handle on his thoughts, he was going to need to make a run home for a cold shower.

At the knock on his door, he turned, welcoming the interruption from his thoughts.

“Sheriff Phillips, sorry to interrupt. Um...a call just came in.” Darlene said from the doorway.

“Is Sam already on a call?” Sam was the primary on duty today. He was scheduled as back-up if something came up while she was out on a call.

“No, but it was Mrs. Weston. And...um...she was real upset. Said she wanted you to go to her house. She was hard to understand but it sounded like, maybe, it was something having to do with what happened before.”

The reminder of the other case that showed signs of Jane being framed was better than a hundred cold showers. The dread curled in his gut thinking what else Mrs. Weston could have to say about the break-in at her house.

“Thanks Darlene. I’ll head over in a second.”

As she left, he stepped over to shut the door as he picked up the phone, dialing Cruz.

“Cruz”

“Where the hell are my prints?” he growled.

“Well, hello to you, too, Phillips. I’ve been great, it’s so nice of you to ask.” Came the sarcastic response.

“I don’t have time for your shit today, Cruz. I need those results.”

“And I would love to give them to you since you asked so nicely...but I don’t have them.”

Frustrated over the delay, and knowing he needed that evidence to refute Mrs. Weston’s claims that Jane was the culprit of the break-ins on her place he barked, “What happened to you being able to charm the ladies?”

“I am able to charm the ladies. Is it my fault Susan went out on maternity leave and her replacement is a pimply-faced twenty-year-old named John who doesn’t recognize the perfection that is Alejandro Miguel Ramirez Cruz?”

“I don't know. Is it your fault?”

“Madre de Dios! Don't say things like that or I won't help you anymore.”

“You're not helping me now,” he bit out.

“Ah, but that's where you are wrong. I was able to get something from that little pendejo running the desk. He confirmed that the prints aren't the same. He couldn't run a full comparison through the system since the note wasn’t finished processing, but he said, at first glance, the prints on the bottle are too small to match the ones on the note. Unfortunately,

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