by Cindy Kirk
His gaze slid over the boy with his arm looped around Angel’s bare shoulder. Jake moved the picture into closer view—and froze.
What was that substitute teacher they’d had last semester doing with Angel?
Jake paused, collecting his thoughts. It couldn’t be Tony D’Fusco. The kid in the picture and Angel looked about the same age. Tony had to be a good six years older than her.
Perhaps this little hoodlum with his long hair, arrogant sneer and cigarette dangling from his lips was Tony’s younger brother—though it seemed improbable that the clean-cut Tony, who didn’t smoke and was a health nut, could have such a brother.
Tired of speculating, Jake turned his attention to the driver’s license. Angel was lucky—it looked like her. Unlike his driver’s photo, which made him look like a cross between a concentration camp prisoner and a deranged ghost.
Yes, he thought, staring intently at the picture. Angel should keep this one as long as possible. His gaze idly shifted to the date of birth field. He paused, blinked and refocused his gaze. According to this, Angel and he were the same age!
He shook his head. After class, they were going to have a talk. Maybe after he got through chewing her out for having a fake ID, he’d ask her about the picture. Maybe find out if that kid was any relation to Tony.
Jake picked up the picture and studied it more closely. He flipped it over. In childish scrawl written across the back in purple pen, were the words Me and Tony, along with the year.
Jake took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow. It didn’t make sense. Why was Angel at Woodland Hills High, pretending to be eighteen when she was really twenty-six?
He started to shove the license and picture into the bag’s pocket, then stopped and carefully placed them along with the money exactly as he’d found them. He then did the same with the books, until they were all back in place.
Now he had two mysteries on his hands—Angel and Tony D’Fusco.
“There’s no one on this staff that would be involved in drug dealing.” The words he’d spoken to the police officers when they’d interviewed him came rushing back.
He’d never thought about the substitute staff. Tony had been a regular all last semester, but Jake hadn’t seen him since before Christmas.
Jake sat up straight. Tony had quit filling in right around the time the police had placed the first undercover cop. It seemed almost too coincidental.
But if Tony was involved, wouldn’t that mean Angel was, too? Of course, she could just as easily be an undercover cop. Although he couldn’t imagine the diminutive Angel in a police uniform with a gun strapped to her side. Deep in his heart, he couldn’t believe she was a drug dealer, either. He shook his head. What was there about him that made him believe the best of people? He’d always been a soft touch.
Just like my brother.
The thought twisted inside him. Jim had trusted his students and lost his life because of that misplaced trust. Jake wouldn’t be so foolish. He’d get to the bottom of this mystery before he made any judgments. Tony D’Fusco was the key.
After school today, he’d make a few calls. He hoped he’d be able to talk to Tony and find out his connection to Angel. Then he’d know for sure which side of the law Angel was on.
He couldn’t deny that he was relieved Angel wasn’t eighteen. Amanda had been right when she’d hinted he had more than a teacherly interest in the girl, er, woman.
Still, despite all that, if she was involved in an illegal activity—Angel Morelli was going to be one sorry angel.
He’d see to it.
Angel sucked the last of her chocolate shake through the straw, using the time to gather her thoughts.
“So, what do you think?” Crow leaned over the gray Formica countertop that separated them, clearly impatient.
Part of what made him edgy, Angel knew, was where they’d been seated. Sitting at a table in the middle of the room might not bother most people, but she and Crow, like most cops, didn’t like to have their backs exposed. They’d chosen this out-of-the-way place because of its location. How were they to know this ramshackle building with its peeling white paint and weathered sign proclaiming Burger and Fries—CHEAP was a favorite of laborers from a nearby construction site?
Now it was too late to go anywhere else. She was already missing most of her afternoon classes.
“What do I think?” Angel leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Mike’s definitely dealing. There might be a few other athletes involved, as well.”
Crow’s dark eyes gleamed. “Finally we’re getting somewhere. What about Weston?”
“Jake?” Angel pushed the plate that still held most of a double cheeseburger to one side. “I’m not sure.”
“Right now he’s our prime suspect.”
“I know that, Crow.” Her voice came out sharper than she intended. “I’m not stupid.”
The knowing look he gave her sent her blood pressure soaring. She’d spent the past few years proving to her colleagues on the force that she was as good as they were, and she resented Crow acting as if she was letting her emotions get in the way of her doing her job.
Angel took a deep breath and forced a reasonable tone. “I’m moving as fast as I can. But remember, he’s a teacher and he thinks I’m a student.”
Crow’s harsh bark of a laugh took her by surprise. “Get real. He’s a guy and he’s got it bad for you, student or not.”
Although Crow’s words should have pleased her, Angel was disturbed. She found Jake Weston attractive, and because she knew she wasn’t an eighteen-year-old high school student she had no problem trying to establish a relationship with him. But he was a teacher and he thought she was a teen. If he did respond, her respect for him would plummet.
“Okay, I’ll step up my efforts. If he’s involved, I’ll find out.”
“You’re doing a good job, Angel,” Crow said. “I’d never guess, if I didn’t know, that this is your first time undercover.”
His comment pleased her. Crow wasn’t one to offer undeserved praise. “I’m just glad my cousin is no longer subbing at Woodland. He’d blow my cover in seconds.”
Crow took a sip of coffee so dark that it gave new meaning to the word black. “Where is he now?”
“Italy. He’s teaching English at an international school over there.”
The waitress came over, and to Angel’s surprise, Crow accepted a refill. It wasn’t often he sat and talked after they’d concluded their business.
“I don’t even know any of my cousins,” Crow mused.
Angel understood. With the breakdown of the nuclear family, very few of the teens she’d counseled had much contact with any of their extended family.
“I lived with my aunt and uncle for a while when I was fifteen.” Angel shook her head. “You should have seen my cousin and me back then. We made quite a pair. I looked like I ran around the streets, and Tony…well, he looked a lot like you do now.” The minute the words left Angel’s lips, she wished she could snatch them back.
Crow laughed. “That bad?”
“I have this photo I should show you.” She stuck her hand in the pocket of her jeans before she remembered she’d left it, along with her driver’s license, tucked safely inside her backpack.
“What’s the matter? Change your mind?”
“No, I didn’t change my mind.” Angel laughed. The picture was bad, but not that bad. “I left it in my bag. I’ll show you when we get back to the car.”
Crow’s brow furrowed. “Your bag isn’t in my car.”
“Sure, it is,” Angel said promptly. “I had it with me when you picked me up at the school.”
“No.” Crow spoke slowly and deliberately. “You didn’t.”
An icy chill gripped Angel’s heart. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” His gaze sharpened. “What did you have in it?”
She forced herself to breathe normally and to think logically. “I stopped by my locker after my last class. I know I had it
then. But I can’t remember if I took the bag into the bathroom with me.”
“I didn’t ask where,” Crow said. “I asked what. Is there anything in there you wouldn’t want anyone to see?”
Despite her fear, Angel recognized that Crow was showing remarkable restraint. Of course, he didn’t yet realize she’d done something that had the potential to blow the whole investigation.
She took a deep breath. “Just a picture of Tony and me. But I doubt anyone would recognize him. And even if they did, it shouldn’t matter.”
“That’s all? Just a picture of you and your cousin?”
She hesitated. “And my driver’s license.”
Crow’s voice was low and taut. “The one showing your real age?”
Angel nodded.
An expletive burst from Crow’s lips like a gunshot, and his palm hit the table with a resounding smack. “How could you be so stupid? Don’t you have a brain?”
Heads turned, and Angel realized they’d unwittingly captured the attention of the entire restaurant. Two burly construction workers slid out of their booth, casting murderous glances at Crow. They took a step forward, and Angel could see they meant to defend her against the enraged bull across the table.
She had to defuse the situation. And fast.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Angel pushed herself up just far enough to allow her to lean over the cluttered table and kiss Crow full on the lips. While he was still sputtering, she took full advantage of the moment.
She stroked his cheek with one hand, grateful he didn’t bat it away, and raised her voice to a sultry whisper loud enough to be overheard. “Sweetie, don’t be such a bear. Why don’t we go over to your place, and I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Crow was quick. Angel could see by the look in his eyes that he realized the seriousness of the situation.
He laced his fingers through her hair with one hand and brought her face closer for another kiss, before answering in that whiskey voice, “I’m all yours, babe.”
Catcalls and whistles accompanied their walk out of the café and across the rocky lot to their car.
Only when she was safely ensconced in the high-performance Ford’s front seat did Angel relax. She leaned her head back and cast her partner a sideways glance. “I’m sorry, Crow.”
He slid behind the steering wheel. “You did good back there. That was some quick thinking.”
“I mean about leaving the backpack. It was inexcusable.”
The engine roared to life, and Crow tore out of the graveled lot in a thick cloud of dust.
“Let’s just wait and see who found your bag.” Crow turned onto the highway and headed back in the direction of the school. “But you have to realize, if there’s any chance at all that your cover’s been blown, you’re out of there.”
Angel sighed. He was right. It would be not only dangerous for her, but for Crow, as well, if her true identity were revealed.
Crow dropped her off in front of the school, and she raced up the front steps. The halls were filled with students, but Angel barely answered the few scattered greetings tossed her way. For once she was glad she didn’t have many friends.
She wove her way through the students, praying that her bag would still be where she’d left it. The route was familiar and automatic, especially at this time of day. Her last class, history with Jake, was right across the hall from her locker.
By the time she got close, the halls were almost deserted and the warning bell had already rung. She had a clear view of the hall and the spot where she knew she’d left her bag.
Empty.
Her shoulders sagged.
If given another chance, she knew she could solve this case. She wouldn’t have accepted it if she’d thought otherwise.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and her hand automatically went to the side where she normally kept her weapon—then she remembered: she didn’t have it with her.
“Angel,” Jake called from the doorway behind her, and she whirled. His hand rose from his side, and dangling from his outstretched fingers hung her purple backpack.
He lifted a brow. “Looking for this?”
Angel tore her gaze from the bag, smiled with more than a bit of relief, and held out her hand. “Yep, it’s mine. Hand it over.”
“Got any proof?” He made no effort to let go of the backpack.
Frustrated, she let her arm drop to her side. “What kind of proof?” She narrowed her gaze. “I said it was mine.”
“Is there any identification in it showing it’s yours?”
She stiffened. Had he found the license? Was he baiting her? She studied him carefully. Or was this teasing purely innocent?
“No ID,” she said casually. “But I can identify every book that’s in there.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“Shoot?”
“Name the textbooks.”
She thought for a moment. “English Lit, Trig, your history book—”
“That’s good enough.” He held out the bag, and it was all she could do not to snatch it from his hands.
She hugged it to her chest, relieved to have it back in her possession. But something didn’t feel quite right. How had he known the contents? “So, I take it you did look through it?”
He shrugged. “I glanced inside looking for a wallet, but there were only books.”
She wanted to ask him why he’d made it sound like there was some sort of identification inside, but she didn’t get the chance. The final bell sounded, and Jake motioned her toward the open classroom door. She entered in front of him.
He seemed sincere. Maybe this was her lucky day. Maybe she’d still have a chance to crack this case.
Or maybe she really had something to worry about.
Chapter Six
Jake dialed the number he’d been given and listened to the rings. One. Two. Three.
A woman answered just before the voice-mail kicked in. “Debra Dean.”
“Ms. Dean. This is Jake Weston. I’m the assistant principal at Woodland Hills High School.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Weston?” The voice was businesslike but not unfriendly.
Jake took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I’m trying to locate a friend who subbed for the district last semester. Unfortunately, our records at Woodland Hills are no help. He’s no longer at his old address, and his phone has been disconnected.”
“Hmm.” She paused, and he could hear what sounded like a pencil tapping against a desk. “I’m not sure if we’d have anything more current.”
“Could you check?” It was all Jake could do to keep his tone even.
“I’m in the middle of something right now,” she said. “Can I call you back?”
“Sure. Let me give you my number.” He gave her his home, work and cellular numbers.
“I can’t guarantee anything.”
“I’ll take whatever you have.” Right now he had nothing. No current address or phone. No next of kin. Nothing.
“All right.” She sighed. “Tell me what information you do have.”
Jake answered her questions the best he could, which was hard considering he knew next to nothing about the guy.
He hoped that would soon change. By tomorrow he should have Tony’s phone number. Then he’d know the extent of the relationship between the former teacher and Angel. And then he’d know what he needed to do.
Angel stood on the porch and stared at the ornate six-panel door. She glanced sideways and read the numbers etched in a stone block set in the brick. For the tenth time she verified that this home—this mansion—was indeed the site of the Woodland Hills Community Church’s monthly youth Bible study.
Emily’s parents were hosting the event, and although her friend had invited her weeks ago, Angel hadn’t planned to attend until Emily told her yesterday that Mike had changed his mind and decided to come after all. When Angel heard that Jake Weston would be substituting for the youth leader, wild horses couldn’t keep he
r away.
It wasn’t just curiosity that brought her to this affluent suburban neighborhood. It was the fact that Jake would be in the same room with Mike and his friends. That fact seemed almost too coincidental.
Angel had initially scoffed when Crow had suggested the youth group might be a front for drug activity. He’d told her it wouldn’t be the first time.
Angel had raised her hand to knock, when the door opened abruptly. “Hey, Em. What’s up?”
Emily stopped, and her eyes widened in surprise. She quickly recovered and gave Angel a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it. I didn’t think you were coming.”
Angel shrugged, but she couldn’t help but be pleased at the warm welcome. She’d alternately dreaded and looked forward to tonight’s event. On the one hand, she couldn’t wait to see how Jake would run the same type of youth meeting she herself ran before she’d gone undercover. On the other hand, she needed to stay in character tonight and remember she was here as a cop, first and foremost.
Emily directed her inside, and Angel moved off the front porch and into the foyer. She stopped, and her gaze lifted upward before dropping. It was hard to say which was more impressive: the two-story open entry or the Italian marble floor. The touch of an experienced interior designer was evident in the understated elegance that surrounded her.
“Nice place you got here,” Angel said, snapping her gum. Nice? More like gorgeous.
Angel wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. The burnt red skinny jeans and v-neck button front top were trendy and, as far as she was concerned, appropriate for a church-sponsored event. Thankful her hair had cooperated. Instead of doing the Einstein, the mass of wild curls simply tumbled past her shoulders in large, loose waves.
“You look nice.” Emily looped her arm through Angel’s and gave it a squeeze. “It’s wonderful to have a friend here.”