by Tee O'Fallon
She hadn’t known that, although when she thought about it there had been several different uniforms present during the warrant.
“Let’s check out the second floor.” Nick led the way as she and Cox followed him up the staircase and into the master bedroom.
“Oh no.” She covered her mouth with her hand. The sheets and duvet had been torn apart, the mattress upended, padding and springs spilling out from a deep gash in the center. The box spring had been destroyed, its fabric cover ripped off. Every drawer in the bureau and bedside tables had been pulled out, their contents scattered. Even her small suitcase had been dumped on the floor, her clothes thrown everywhere.
Nick turned slowly in a three-sixty, his eyes constantly moving as he took in the damage. “They were looking for something.”
Cox took more photos on his phone. “The only question is whether they found it.”
“Found what?” she asked. “You guys served a search warrant less than twelve hours ago. Didn’t you find everything there was to find?”
Nick turned on her. “We didn’t find your boyfriend’s laptop.”
“For the last time”—she clenched her hands—“he’s not my boyfriend. And don’t you think this is too big a coincidence? A search warrant and a break-in all in the same day?”
“Yeah,” he said flatly. “I do.”
Cox put his cell phone to his ear and headed for the door, turning at the last second. “I have to make some calls.”
Nick slipped a small pad from his breast pocket. “What time did you get here?”
“Around five o’clock.”
He scribbled on the pad. “Was the front door locked?”
“Yes, but I noticed those scratch marks on the door and a cigarette butt on the front stoop that wasn’t here when I left this morning.”
“You’ll have to point out the butt to the evidence collection team. We might be able to get a DNA hit.” He paused from making notes on the pad. “There’s an alarm system installed in the house. It wasn’t on when we served the warrant this morning. Did you activate it when you left today?”
“No,” she admitted, realizing if she’d been in the habit of setting it, she would have known the second Nick and the other officers had gotten in that morning.
He raised his brows. “Why not?”
“Well, it seems stupid now.” She let out a sarcastic laugh. “I was afraid I’d screw up the code and the police would come running and arrest me for breaking in to a house that’s not mine.”
Again, Nick’s eyes twinkled with humor. The corners of his mouth lifted, stopping just short of a full smile. Not for the first time, she wondered how an honest-to-God smile would transform the hardness of his features.
“Can you tell if anything’s missing?”
“Not really.” She went to her upended suitcase and kneeled beside it on the floor. “I’ve hardly been anywhere in the house except the kitchen, so aside from my own things, no.”
Andi turned to find him arching a brow. Disbelief screamed from every nuance of the subtle gesture.
She got to her feet and came to stand in front of him, parking her fists on her hips. “What is your problem? I’ve told you more than once that Joe and I haven’t had any real relationship for years. We’re friends. Just friends. And I am not part of his criminal network.”
For several seconds, he stared down at her silently, as if gauging her truthfulness. “So you keep telling me.”
The air conditioning took that moment to kick on, blowing a whiff of his scent her way, and it was distracting as hell.
Needing space, she took a step back. “You don’t believe a word I’ve said to you. You’re so suspicious and untrusting you lack the ability to perceive truth when it smacks you in the face. You see criminals everywhere, don’t you?”
“It’s my job.” He took a step closer, so that he once again loomed over her, but at this point she was getting used to that tactic and stood her ground, craning her neck to meet his steely gaze. “In fact,” he continued in a smooth, deep voice, “a lot of taxpayer money is spent training me to do just that.”
“Do they also train you to identify that rare”—she hooked her fingers into quotation marks—“honest taxpayer?”
“I’m trained to gather the facts, ma’am,” he added, and she understood he’d used that word to intentionally be annoying, since she’d specifically told him to quit using it on her. “Contrary to what you obviously think, I don’t pass judgment. A judge or a jury decide if the facts warrant a conviction.”
“You really don’t care if someone is innocent or guilty.” She pointed a finger at his chest without touching him. “You’re a just-the-facts-ma’am kind of guy?”
His eyes flashed with subdued anger, and she found it gratifying to have finally penetrated his emotional armor. “I don’t deal bullshit, and I don’t tolerate it, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Then what do I have to do to prove I’m innocent and not bullshitting you?”
“Cooperate. Fully.”
“I have been cooperating. Fully,” she said, throwing his word back at him.
“Just how far are you willing to go to prove your cooperation?”
She crossed her arms. “As far as it takes.”
He shocked her with a full-fledged smile, and she had the answer to her question. When Sgt. Nicholas Houston smiled, he was devastatingly handsome.
Big whoop. So he’s good looking.
Oh hell. There was no sense deluding herself anymore. I’m attracted to him. Physically, anyway.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said calmly, although there was an undecipherable look in his eyes that gave her the disquieting feeling she’d been expertly herded into a trap.
“What about the photo?” He tipped his head to Joe’s high-top bureau. More specifically, to the exact location where the framed photo of her and Joe had been—and wasn’t now. “The one of you and your not-boyfriend. Did you move it?”
Ignoring his jibe, she walked to the bureau. Until he’d pointed it out, she hadn’t realized the photo was no longer there. “I didn’t touch it.” Turning, she found him standing directly behind her. She hadn’t heard him move and wondered how such a big man could get around so soundlessly. The skin over the bridge of his nose was creased, leaving her puzzled about the implications of the missing photo. “Why would they take it?”
“I don’t know.” He tucked the small pad back into his breast pocket. “We don’t even know who ‘they’ is. If we assume whoever broke in is connected to this investigation, then chances are they already know what Joe looks like.” His frown deepened. “But they may not have known what you look like.”
“I have nothing to do with whatever Joe’s involved in, so why would they want a picture of me? I don’t have his laptop, and I can’t give them any useful information. I can’t even give you anything useful.”
“We’ll figure this out.” His eyes took on a look of determination. “I promise.”
Despite their constant sparring, something about the sincerity in his eyes made her believe him.
“Do you have another place to stay tonight?” he asked.
“Yes.” She walked back to where her suitcase lay on the floor. “The plumbing work on my house is done, so I can move back in. The only reason I came here was to collect my things.” She knelt and reached out to right the suitcase and start dumping her clothes back into it when strong fingers clamped gently over her hand.
Nick knelt beside her, so close that their thighs touched, and she could feel the muscular strength of his. “Don’t touch anything. The evidence team has to photograph everything and dust for prints. They’ll need a set of your fingerprints to compare to any others left behind.”
Warmth emanating from his large body washed over her in gentle waves, and every place his long, strong fingers touched hers tingled with awareness. Of what, she didn’t know.
Their gazes locked, and his hand still covered hers, curling her finge
rs beneath his own. As she stared into his eyes, her heart slammed against her ribs. While she understood Nick’s touch was purely for professional reasons—to preserve evidence—it was disconcerting.
Footsteps sounded outside the bedroom, and she yanked her hand from beneath his as they both rose to their feet. Cox and two uniformed officers entered the room.
“You good, Nick?” Cox stood in the open doorway, a quizzical expression on his face that made her realize he must have misinterpreted what he’d seen as her and Nick holding hands.
As. If.
“We are, but there’s something you should know.” He succinctly explained to Cox and the uniforms about the missing framed photograph.
Cox nodded. “All the more reason to move forward with things as planned.”
“What things?” She crossed her arms as a now-familiar sense of foreboding spread through her.
One of the local officers interrupted. “Ma’am, I’d like to ask you some questions.”
Rolling her eyes, she groaned. “What is this, a cop thing? My name is Andi. Andi Hardt, not ma’am.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” The cop winced. “Ms. Hardt.”
Beside her, Nick chuckled.
It was nearly midnight when Andi fell into bed. Her entire body was exhausted, yet her mind couldn’t stop buzzing. Just when she’d thought the day couldn’t get any worse, it had, culminating with getting fingerprinted for elimination purposes. She’d completely missed the evening shift at the DPC, but Tuesdays were slow, and Tess had closed up early. She really was counting on that musician to beef up business. If that didn’t bring in more customers, her dream café might die a horrible death.
Nails clicked on the bedroom’s hardwood floors as Stray walked in. The dog nuzzled her arm before lying down beside the bed with a contented huff. Normally, Stray overnighted in the garage, happy to sleep in the comfy doghouse Andi had purchased for the occasional wayward dog. Tonight, she’d needed canine companionship.
Cox had followed her home, insisting on checking out every room in her house before allowing her to enter. He’d explained that until they deduced why the photo of her and Joe had been taken by the burglars, she should exercise additional caution.
Flipping onto her belly, she snuggled against the fluffy down pillow and reached out to run her fingers over Stray’s soft coat. In response, the dog touched her wet nose to Andi’s hand, as if giving her a good night kiss.
In the darkness, she smiled, but it was fleeting. The only reason she’d worked in the financial world was because she’d seen her parents struggling for money and wanted to help them. They’d been scientists, living from grant to grant, and when one grant after the next dried up, things were rough. But they’d loved doing what they did, so when she quit her job in New York, she decided to emulate them and follow her dream.
At least her parents had each other. She, on the other hand, was destined to wind up alone. Dogs were the most wonderful creatures on the planet, but they could never be a substitute for a family of her own.
Time to face facts.
Life had thrown her a cruel curve ball. For her, a family wasn’t in the cards.
With quick, angry motions she swiped at her tears, wishing she could wipe away her pain and worries that easily.
She’d been relieved that it had been Cox inside her home, rather than Nick. Around him, she felt compelled to stay extra sharp, and it was exhausting. Sparring with him left her body and mind totally energized, but afterward, it was as if all remaining life had been sucked from her.
Before she nodded off, his melodic voice sounded in her head as surely as if he were standing in her bedroom. Just how far are you willing to go to prove your cooperation?
Her eyelids closed, and she began falling into an uneasy sleep, unable to shake the worry that she really was being herded into a trap. What trap remained to be seen.
Chapter Six
The only times Nick had been inside what was now the Dog Park Café were when it had been a shabby, rundown bar in serious need of renovation. Located thirty minutes outside Springfield in Wilbraham, the place was a little remote, and he’d only been there to break up a few drunken brawls and haul some of the locals to jail. Ironically, this was one of the city’s few suburbs that miraculously hadn’t been touched by the rash of shootings plaguing the city.
As he parked his Tahoe in the lot facing the fenced-in dog run, he noted Andi’s white pickup. You gotta love a woman who drives a truck.
Shit. Bad choice of words. He’d let her get to him, and he seriously needed to slam the brakes on that before it happened again. When she’d given him a verbal smackdown about his job, he’d goaded her right back about the boyfriend thing. It had been unprofessional, and he prided himself on his professionalism. He had to be more careful. Especially given what he was about to dump on her head.
He looked at the outside of the café and was impressed with the changes. Once-moldy gray stain had been replaced by fresh yellow paint and white trim around the windows and doors. A hand-painted sign in flowing black script hung over the entrance. About a hundred yards north of the restaurant was a small Colonial in the same colors that he assumed was Andi’s house.
Several dogs were in the run, including an Australian sheepdog, a mixed breed that looked like the one at Myer’s house yesterday, and a big Bouvier des Flandres. At nearly ninety pounds and with a long gray coat, thick beard, mustache, and eyebrows, the Bouvier was a dog no one would forget. Leaning against the railing were a woman about Andi’s height but with dark brown hair, and a man a few inches taller. The two had their heads together as they watched the dogs.
Another man leashed up the Aussie and led the dog outside the run to a dark green Porsche on the far side of the lot. Nick immediately recognized him. Paul Nelson—chief of the Springfield PD. As the Porsche drove off, he tapped his fingers on the wheel. What’s the chief of police doing here on a Wednesday morning?
Most department chiefs worked a day shift, Monday through Friday. He could have taken a day off, but that wasn’t what Nick found most odd. He happened to know that Chief Nelson lived an hour from Wilbraham, making this one heck of a long drive just to run his dog. Then again…maybe not so long with all those expensive horses under the hood.
Saxon craned his head over the console, uttering a series of whines as he caught sight of the other dogs through the windshield.
Nick shifted on the seat, laughing at the excitement brimming in Saxon’s eyes. Playing with other dogs was a rare treat for a K-9. “Ready to go undercover, buddy?” Woof. “Make nice with the other dogs while I go to work. At least they don’t know you’re a cop.” But Andi would know.
Before responding to the break-in yesterday, he and Cox had decided not to overwhelm her with Nick’s operational plan. Even though they held all the cards, the woman had been through enough for one day. If they pushed too hard and too fast, they risked her refusing to cooperate. Still, he’d bet a week patrolling on foot that she’d hit the roof when he told her how this would go down.
Saxon gave a high-pitched bark, prancing in place, a sign of impatience Nick understood all too well.
“We got this, pal.” Whether Andi likes it or not.
He shut off the engine, then got out and opened up the door behind him. Saxon obediently waited for him to hook the six-foot leather leash onto the dog’s civilian collar. A second later Saxon leaped from the truck.
“Fuss,” he commanded, and Saxon glued himself to Nick’s left side, glancing up at him occasionally as they made their way down the slight incline to the dog run. Given how well-trained Saxon was, the leash hadn’t really been necessary. He only used it to make others feel comfortable with his dog’s size and presence.
As they got closer, the other dogs ran over to greet the newcomer, tails in the air, ears alert. Like people, dogs sized up their kind to determine who would be the dominant one.
From his position at the gate, he had a better view of the raised wood deck that ran end-
to-end along the backside of the restaurant. Though it was only ten a.m., several tables were already occupied by customers.
A bead of sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. The sweltering temps didn’t seem to bother the dogs, although with Saxon’s pure black coat, he’d have to keep his dog hydrated more than usual. Funny how he would always think of Saxon as “his dog” when in fiscal reality, he was the property of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and worth nearly twenty grand.
After letting Saxon into the run, he secured the inner and outer gates, then leaned his forearms on the top rail, watching to make sure everyone got along.
Saxon bounded into the circle of dogs, then stood at full attention, looking like the king of his domain, barely moving except for a stiff tail wag. The other dogs circled and sniffed. His K-9 was unusual in that he was definitely an alpha but able to get along with other dogs without asserting aggressive dominance. Like any human confident in who and what he was, Saxon didn’t feel the need to throw his weight around. Unless he was working. Then, he was positively fearsome and would make even the biggest, meanest badass think twice before getting anywhere near those snapping jaws.
He watched a few minutes longer, then made his way up the stairs to the deck and sat at a shade-covered table that gave him a good view not only of the dog run but also the small lake off to the side of the property.
Several laminated menus were propped in a wire holder in the center of the table. He grabbed one and began checking out the sandwiches. Within a minute, his stomach was growling from the mouth-watering list of paninis on freshly baked ciabatta and loaded with locally cured meats and cheeses.
A sharp bark had him scanning the dog run to find the pretty mixed breed flirting with Saxon, pirouetting and getting in an occasional nip on his flanks. Looked like she didn’t hold a grudge against his dog after having her bath interrupted yesterday.