Shelter for Sharla Read online

  When he emptied into her, he felt like he’d single-handedly won the third world war or found the cure for the common cold or solved the problem of global hunger. He was powerful and invincible. His cock was throbbing and it hurt so damn good. By the time he caught his breath, he realized he hadn’t even taken a moment to check on her.

  But he needn’t have worried. Sharla lay there, smiling up at him, and he felt a catch in his chest. Oh, shit, I’m so royally fucked, he told himself, because he knew the truth. He didn’t want this to be a fling, not something that was a two- or three-time deal and then he’d walk away. No, this was something he hadn’t had before, with a woman the likes of whom he’d never known before. Sharla Barker was the kind of woman he’d been looking for all along and never thought he’d find. “You okay, babe?” he asked as he gazed down at her, his dick still buried in her and her knees still up, legs wide open, and everything between her thighs wet.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. And you look fucking hot kneeling between my legs like that, Carter. I mean, really. You’re such a fucking stud, babe.”

  He couldn’t help it―he threw his head back and laughed. It wasn’t because what she’d said was funny, even though it was. It was from pure relief. My god, what a feeling! Pulling out of her, he dropped to the mattress beside her and pulled her up against him, his arms tight around her. “I bet you say that to all the sheriffs, don’t you?”

  “Only the cute ones.” She kissed his chin lightly and his whole body warmed. When she burrowed her head into the side of his neck, he knew what it felt like to be a man. She didn’t know it yet, but Sharla Barker was going to be his. He wasn’t letting go. “How long can you stay?”

  “Well, we know I have to be gone by the time the kids get back. What time is it?”

  “It’s almost eleven.”

  Carter pulled back and stared down at her in disbelief. “We’ve been fucking for two hours?”

  Sharla laughed heartily. “Looks like it!”

  “God, woman, it’s a miracle I’m not dead!” he barked, laughing with her.

  “I know, right? I’m trying to wear you out. Is it working?”

  He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “No. I’m just getting started.”

  “Good. I don’t want it to stop. Well, I mean, I know it has to stop tonight. I mean I don’t want it to stop ever. Wait―I don’t mean ever as in forever, I mean―”

  “Shush. I know what you mean. It’s fine. I don’t want it to ever stop either.” Throwing his free arm up, he lay back on the pillow, his other arm cradling her against his body, and smiled up at the ceiling. Her skin against his was warm and soft, and he loved the sensation of her breath as it floated across his chest. If only they had all night …

  “Carter?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her forehead before he asked, “For what?”

  She let out a little sigh. “For helping me forget for just a little while.”

  That struck him as profoundly sad. “You’re welcome but, honestly, I hope it was more than that.”

  “Oh, it is. But this week … I feel like I’ve been dropped into hell. I don’t know what to do next, and everything is upside down, and―”

  “Stop. It’s okay. Just take a deep breath. You’ve got to get through the funeral somehow, I know, and then hopefully it’ll get better.”

  He felt her shift, and she threw an elbow across his chest, her hand resting on his collar bone as she stared into his face. “Are you coming to the funeral?”

  “Under the circumstances, I think it would be awkward for everybody involved, don’t you?”

  “The kids and I would like for you to be there.”

  “But Sharla, it was my bullet that―”

  “If we don’t mind, nobody else should.” He was about to speak when she added, “Unless it would make you too uncomfortable.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “It’s not about my comfort or discomfort. I’ll do whatever you want me to, whatever would make you and the kids most comfortable.”

  “We’d like for you to be there.”

  “Well, I guess that settles it. I’ll be there. Just make sure I know what time.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Her head dropped onto his shoulder as her hand glided across his midsection, coming to rest on the side of his ribcage. Without a second thought, his free hand draped across her and he pulled her in even tighter to his side.

  If she and the kids wanted him there, he’d be there. Yeah, he’d have to answer a bunch of questions from people whose business it was not, but that was okay. His only concern was the trouble it might cause them. And if it caused them any, he’d take care of that too.

  Chapter 4

  It was the perfect time for some digging. Saturday mornings were quiet at the office. They ran a skeleton crew of only the officers they needed, all out on the road. Carter got up a little earlier than usual and headed in. As he unlocked the door, he noticed Watson and Durst’s vehicles sitting there, so it was a sure thing they were out and about.

  He brought up the computer on his desk and logged in. Then he went through his email. Nothing important. After that, he started prowling through databases.

  Sharla LeAnne Meacham Barker. Carter checked every record he could think of and found nothing―not so much as a parking ticket. The woman was squeaky clean. Another quick check and he found nothing on the two kids. Matter of fact, there was nothing on Tamara either, but based on the things Sharla had said, that didn’t surprise him.

  He did a little backtracking and found the court case with Tamara and Lionel’s father. It appeared Taliq Lamar Kent had been a Grade A piece of shit. There were numerous records for domestic assault, and they weren’t just against Sharla’s sister, Imogen. It appeared he’d had several women on the side over the years, and he’d treated them as badly as he’d treated his wife. The robbery had gone sour from the very beginning―silent alarm set off almost immediately, getaway driver caught right around the corner, and the three inside the bank running out and straight into a wall of blue. Two of them had dropped to their faces, but not Taliq Kent. He’d pulled a forty-five and gotten himself blown to bits, just as his daughter had. For Tamara, her willingness to pull that gun had come from the knowledge she was going down for a crime. Based on the statements from the officers present, Taliq had simply been boasting about how he was going down in a blaze of glory. But Carter had to ask himself, What role did her dad’s death play in Tamara’s decision to draw on us? He had to wonder if there was some tiny thought in the back of her mind, some sad decision to let history repeat itself within their family. And what a shame that was.

  He had to admit, he felt better about Sharla. All night long after he’d gone home, he’d lain awake, wondering if he’d messed up badly by getting involved with someone whose character was less than stellar. It seemed he’d worried for nothing. Sharla was exactly as she appeared to be.

  But that tattoo wasn’t. He pulled out his phone and hit a contact. It only rang twice before a voice answered with, “Atkins.”

  “Good morning. This is Sheriff Melton over in Trigg County. How are you?”

  “Doing good. You guys doing okay down there?”

  “Yeah. Got a funeral to attend sometime next week.”

  “So I heard. You’re actually going?”

  “Yeah. The woman and kids have requested that I be there.”

  There was a brief hiccup of silence before Atkins said, “That’s highly unusual.”

  “Not really,” Carter threw back, trying to think fast. “I’ve been questioning them in regard to the case and I think they realize I just want the truth to come out so they can get some closure. They said they’d be more comfortable with me there.”

  “Well, you’re a better man than I am. I don’t think I could do it,” Atkins announced.

  “Thanks, but it’s about their comfort. They’re grieving. I feel like I owe th
em that, not to mention they might need security. Because of the nature of the crime, there may be people who’ll blame the family, and I don’t want anything to happen to them. But I just wondered: Did you find out anything at the university?”

  “Hang on. Let me grab my notes.” Carter sat with the phone to his ear and listened as the sound of footsteps receded, then seemed to come back before he heard Atkins ask, “Still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. I interviewed the dean of students. He said the organization calls itself the Rainbow University League. Other than the name, he really doesn’t know much about it.”

  “All of those organizations are supposed to have a sponsor who’s a member of the faculty,” Carter pointed out.

  “Right. And it appears whoever their sponsor was retired two years ago. And that was just about the time the organization was formed. Get this―there wasn’t another one assigned. It’s like nobody thought to ask somebody else to be their sponsor, just kept feeding them the paperwork to stay on campus.”

  Carter could feel his eyebrows pop up. “That’s pretty weird.”

  “Yeah. I thought so too. I talked to the woman over in Faculty Hall whose office is responsible for issuing the paperwork. She said she got it ready every year and gave it to the dean of curriculum to assign. And every year the dean signed it and gave it back. So nobody was addressing the fact that they had no sponsor. Looks like they slipped through the cracks.”

  “Or sneaked through the cracks. Maybe somebody knew they didn’t have a sponsor and wanted to keep it that way,” Carter mused aloud.

  “I thought of that too, so I did some checking and if there’s any infraction being perpetrated, or that has been perpetrated, by any of the faculty, I haven’t found it. Of course, I know universities have a way of burying that stuff.”

  “True. So I assume you asked students around campus?”

  “Duffy did that while I was talking with administration. He said it was as though the organization didn’t exist. Nobody he stopped seemed to know anything about it. Matter of fact, he sat out in front of the library and watched for kids with gay pride shirts on or carrying anything that would give him reason to think they were gay. Found about eight of them in just a few minutes, and they all claimed to know nothing about the organization. I found that pretty strange.”

  “It is.”

  “So what did the two kids know?”

  “Nothing,” Carter answered, feeling more than frustrated. They were getting nowhere fast, it appeared. “The Kent girl was the one who initiated the attendance at the rally. Neither of them are gay, neither are members of the organization, and they know very little about it. Said it’s called tanner de lupo?”

  “Huh. Well, that’s a new one on me. I haven’t heard that. What does that mean?”

  Carter shrugged to himself. “I have no idea, but I aim to find out. If I do, I’ll let you guys know.”

  “Sounds good. Maybe you could get the kids to go to another one of those rallies,” Atkins suggested.

  “That’s a good idea, but considering they didn’t know anything about it and just went along with the Kent girl, I’d say their chances of finding out about another rally would be pretty slim unless somebody let it slip. But they are on campus and we’re not, so I’ll talk to them about keeping an ear to the ground.”

  “Sounds good. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” Atkins assured him.

  “Thanks. Same here. Have a good weekend.” Carter hit END and sat there. Nobody seemed to know anything. What would it take to find out? And how long?

  If there really was somebody following Sharla, even one more day might be too long.

  He’d checked on Sharla both days with a text, and she claimed she was fine. Carter wanted to see her, but with the kids home for the weekend, that just wasn’t possible. Not that they’d be any kind of security, but at least she wasn’t alone in the house. That was something.

  He spent Sunday afternoon at his mom’s, fixing her bathtub faucet and building some stairs to the little shed out back. It was beyond worth the effort when he discovered she’d spent the afternoon making chicken ‘n dumplings from scratch, his grandmother’s recipe and his absolute favorite meal. One thing Carter could honestly say was that he enjoyed spending time with his mom. He’d felt the same way about his dad, and he often thought of things he’d like to tell his father if only he were still alive. When the investigation was over and he and Sharla could see each other openly, he could see himself stepping into that role with Chelsea, if she’d let him. After all, she came with Sharla, so they’d have to get along.

  Matter of fact, he’d been thinking about a relationship with the brunette beauty ever since they’d spent the evening together. Sharla was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, insofar as he could tell. Of course, he needed to get to know her a lot better, but that wasn’t going to happen until they could get the investigation settled.

  So bright and early on Monday, when the call came, he was glad. “Sure. I’ll be there.”

  “Two. Bring anything you’ve dredged up and we’ll all talk about it,” Griffin ordered.

  “Will do, sir. See you then.” Finally―we’re seeing some movement, even if I’m going to have to drive like a maniac to get there, he told himself as he readied his messenger bag, pulling the files he’d started on Sharla, Lionel, Chelsea, and Tamara into it, along with some other information he’d found. Last but not least, he’d actually transcribed the notes he’d taken during the meeting he’d had with the kids the week before, and he took time to make copies of them so he’d have them to hand out.

  He hit the road with enough time to stop in Bardstown on the way and grab a bite to eat. It was an easy-enough drive, parkways and interstates almost the entire way. One look at his uniform and the server at the restaurant got his food and got him out the door as quickly as possible. By the time he pulled into the parking lot at the state police headquarters in Frankfort, the state’s capitol, he had forty-five minutes to spare.

  There were handshakes and fresh coffee awaiting him as he walked in, and one of the clerks showed him to the conference room they’d be using. Bud Griffin was there, as were Ron Duffy and Jason Atkins. He hadn’t seen Amos Fletcher and Jesse Talbert yet. A hand landed on his back between his shoulder blades and he turned to find Sam Curry standing there. “Hey, Sam!”

  “Carter!” The men shook hands jovially, and Carter was glad to see Sam there. He’d felt a little out of place and outranked by the state police detectives and KDCI agents, but with Sam in attendance, at least he had another small-town guy participating.

  They sat and chatted as they waited, mostly about Sam’s two-year-old twin boys. It hurt Carter a little to hear about their antics. If he’d had a different job, or found someone when he was younger, or … There went that if only beratement again. Those years were lost and they weren’t coming back. Might as well enjoy hearing about somebody else’s little family.

  There were ten minutes left in their wait when Fletcher and Talbert stepped into the room. Along with them came a man Carter didn’t recognize, but all the KSP personnel seemed to know him. As the last one in, Bud closed the door behind himself and turned to the men. “Everyone stand and introduce yourself.”

  One by one, they stood and gave their name and position. The unknown man’s name was Marlon Waters, and he was a deputy state medical examiner, which made sense to Carter. As soon as they were finished with the introductions, they launched into the meeting.

  Carter was surprised to find they really had very little information. Most surprising was how little Duffy and Atkins had managed to scare up on campus. They had nothing more than Carter had already heard.

  Sam actually had some new information in the form of the tattoo artists who’d produced the tattoos, but unfortunately, it seemed every one of them generated no leads. They were college students doing internships with tattoo parlors, or long-time residents of the area who had no ties to campus whats
oever. “What did they say about the design?” Carter asked.

  “That the kids brought them drawings of it. All they had to do was ink it on. They all wondered about it, especially when more kids came in wanting it, but they all said the same thing―the only questions they ask are about age for legal purposes. Otherwise, it’s the client’s body and the client’s choice.”

  “So they have no idea what the tattoo is about?” Griffin asked.

  Sam shook his head. “Nope.”

  Then it was Carter’s turn. He pulled out the transcripts of the notes from his questioning of Chelsea and Lionel and watched Griffin’s eyebrows shoot up. No doubt he’s surprised I’m so professional, Carter thought, mentally rolling his eyes. The state police and KDCI often treated local sheriffs as though they were Barney Fife clones, but most of the sheriffs, sheriff’s deputies, and sheriff’s department detectives he knew were highly-trained, skilled, hard-working men and women who knew their jobs. “Take a look at that one section there, the one that’s highlighted,” Carter said, pointing to the paper. “According to the kids, the organization is called something like tanner de lupo. They have no idea what that means.” Oddly, about the time the words came out of his mouth, he felt something under the table. Had Sam just kicked him? What the hell? He took a chance and glanced at the county detective, watching one of the man’s eyebrows hike ever so slightly. Sam knew something, something he didn’t want to share in the group. Suddenly, Carter couldn’t wait for the meeting to be over so he could talk to Sam alone. “Ran it through five translation engines and got a mish mash of stuff, none of which made any sense. Anybody hear this from anybody else? Know what it means?” he asked aloud, half to see if he got an answer and half to smokescreen his connection with Sam. Everyone shrugged or shook their head. “Okay, then. I’m going to follow it, if that’s okay with everybody else.”