A Cop's Promise

by Sharon Hartley

  “Did you?”

  “God, no. What possible reason would I have?”

  “You and Dan had a violent altercation. That gives you a motive.”

  Chip took a deep breath. So that was why she’d kept probing. “You’re way off base here, Lana.”

  “Then tell me what ended your friendship with Dan. My mother found the note you sent him where you referenced keeping his secret. What was that about?”

  An excellent meal became a lump of nausea in Chip’s gut. He shoved away his empty plate, knocking it against his water glass so hard, water splashed onto the tablecloth. Unbelievable. Absolutely fricking unbelievable. He ought to damn well tell this badass cop that the man-child she was trying to get justice for had been a selfish prick who’d thought the world revolved around his own sorry butt.

  But he couldn’t do it. Someone needed to tell her to quit wasting her time, but he couldn’t be the one to shatter Lana’s illusions about her brother. Chip had spent a lot of his childhood trying to protect her, and he couldn’t stop now.

  If she continued to investigate, she’d find out on her own.

  Especially if Cindy Arroyo appeared on her suspect list.

  Chip locked gazes with Lana. “The end of my friendship with Dan had nothing to do with his murder.”

  “Then why keep it a secret?”

  “Was that the reason for this date?” Chip demanded. “You wanted to interrogate me when I was relaxed and unaware?”

  Her cheeks colored. “I offered to pay for half.”

  “Congratulations,” he said. “You’ve proved your point.”

  She frowned. “What point?”

  “You’re not so nice after all.”

  Her mouth tightened, and she finally looked away. Score one for The Chipper.

  God, he was the biggest fool on the face of the earth. Lana had accepted his invitation solely because she thought he was a fricking murderer. She suspected him of killing her brother. He ought to be grateful she wasn’t surveilling him.

  Maybe she had been.

  “Tell me something, Lana. Have you visited the University of Miami’s campus lately?”

  The guilt on her face was so obvious, he almost laughed. If only this were funny.

  “Goddamn it. You followed me to class?”

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I’m trying to get justice for Dan.”

  “To the point you’re stalking old friends?”

  “I’m not stalking you.” She lifted her chin. “It’s called an investigation.”

  “Are your superior officers aware of your investigation?”

  “So, are we ready for dessert?” Their efficient server materialized at the table, displaying a slice of some sort of glistening chocolate. “Tonight we have molten lava cake, crème brûlée and—”

  “Just the check,” Chip interrupted. “We’re ready to go.”

  * * *

  LANA STARED OUT the windshield of Chip’s truck as he peeled out of the restaurant’s parking lot, wheels whining he was in such a hurry to get rid of her. Okay. So he was pissed, his feelings rubbed raw because she suspected him of murder. She got that. But she was doing her job. Or the job she’d appointed herself to do.

  She had to admit his response was not the reaction of a guilty man. His angry surprise had definitely been authentic and had twisted the guilt in her gut even tighter.

  Yet he still refused to tell her the source of his conflict with Dan. Why?

  “I have an alibi.”

  Chip’s clipped tone interrupted the silence in the truck. She swiveled her head to observe him, but he refused to meet her gaze.

  “Yeah, your parents,” she said.

  “You think my mom and dad would lie about the fact I was home that night?”

  “You’ve been known to sneak out. They might not know. And maybe they’d lie to save you from a life in prison.”

  He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  “Everyone had an alibi,” Lana said. “Someone is lying.”

  “Maybe it was a random mugging.”

  “It wasn’t. The killer knew Dan.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because of evidence from the scene.”

  “What evidence?”

  She folded her arms. “Things that weren’t made public.”

  “Like what?”

  “There’s a reason evidence isn’t made public. If a suspect reveals details that weren’t released to the press, we know we have the right perp.”

  “Great. So I’m still your number one suspect?”

  “No,” she said on a sigh. “Actually, you’re not.”

  He turned to look at her. “Why not?”

  “Don’t sound so disappointed.”

  “I’m not. This isn’t a joke, Lana.”

  “Believe me,” she said. “I’m not joking. I will find Dan’s killer.”

  “Then you need to look somewhere else.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “Good,” he muttered and remained silent for a few miles.

  He released a long sigh. “So why have you changed your mind about me being a homicidal maniac?”

  She shrugged. “A couple of things. Mainly your reaction.”

  He nodded, his eyes fixed on the road.

  “I was grounded that night,” he said in a tight voice. “I’d lied to my parents about entering a competition they considered too dangerous. When they found out I’d disobeyed them, they refused to let me go anywhere for two weeks.” He shook his head. “Eighteen years old and grounded.”

  She nodded. But that was Chip. His recklessness was one of the reasons she’d originally considered him a good suspect.

  “I spent the whole night binge-watching The X-Files on TV,” he said.

  She felt a smile form at the memory of how she and Chip had forever argued about whether there were aliens “out there.” One of their late-night meetings had consisted of a heated discussion over that very subject.

  How could she have ever thought Chip Peterson was a murderer? Maybe she had allowed herself to get carried away.

  She released a breath. “I’m really sorry, Chip.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “Getting justice for Danny is important to my mother. It’s the only thing that will bring her back into the real world.”

  “I get that. Dan was once my friend, too, you know.”

  “Was he really?”

  “I may not have been on board with everything he did, but I’d known him as long as I’ve known you.”

  “Then why did you and he—”

  “Don’t go there, Lana. It has nothing to do with his death, and I’m not going to tell you.”

  Lana remained silent, considering Chip’s resistance to answering her question. Her gut told her Chip was innocent of anything connected with Dan’s murder, that he was likely grounded that night just as he alleged.

  She twirled a lock of hair, deep in thought. So why was he so closemouthed about the end of the friendship? And he certainly had a history of sneaking out his bedroom window.

  The fact that the championship ring had been the only thing stolen had convinced her that the killer had to be someone on the team, a player who nursed a nasty grudge against Dan for something connected to football. Someone who didn’t think he deserved that memento. Chip might know about internal conflicts among the players that she wasn’t privy to. He might give her clues to another suspect.

  But now he was pissed at her. Forget any cooperation.

  “You know, people aren’t always who we think they are,” Chip stated, yanking Lana out of her musings.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Just that. I know you loved y
our brother, but other people didn’t think so highly of him.”

  “Everyone loved Dan.”

  She threw Chip a glance when he remained silent, his profile illuminated by a light as they passed underneath. His jaw was set, his mouth clamped into a tight line.

  “What?” she demanded. “Are you saying you know someone who didn’t like Dan?”

  “A lot of people didn’t.”

  “That’s not true.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, then. Keep spinning your wheels, Ms. Badass Detective.”

  “Funny.” Lana stared out the windshield. “Who?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Tell me.”

  “Half the team was sick of his attitude.”

  “No way. Dan was the heart and soul of the Eagles, the captain, the reason you guys were state champs.”

  “And he never let anyone forget it.”

  Lana opened her mouth to reject that statement, but bit her bottom lip and remained silent. Yeah, maybe Dan had possessed an overabundance of self-confidence, but he came by it honestly. He had been a naturally gifted athlete.

  “Any specific conflicts?” she asked.

  “There were plenty of fights in the locker room after games.”

  “Actual fights? Blows were landed?”

  “More than once.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “Plays during the game, Dan’s high-handed arrogance. He thought he could tell everyone what to do.”

  “I can’t believe Coach Robby let fistfights happen.”

  “Coach wasn’t always in the locker room with us.”

  “Where was he?”

  “In his office, celebrating with a bottle of Jack Black.”

  Coach drank alcohol and his players were aware of it? Wow. This was definitely a night for revelations.

  “Did anyone give the investigating detectives that information?” she asked.

  “All I can tell you is I didn’t.”

  “Did Coach ever share his liquor with the team?”

  Chip heaved a sigh. “Never with me. That’s all I know.”

  Lana shook her head. The original detectives had interviewed all the players on the team, and there’d been nothing in the reports about locker-room fights, and no mention of Coach drinking in his office. Could the detectives have been incompetent enough to not ask these questions?

  Or had they deliberately left the information out for some reason? She needed to find out, but that could be tricky.

  “Was there ever any trouble between Coach and Dan?” she asked, certain of the answer to this question.

  After a long moment, Chip said, “Maybe.”

  Lana stared at him in disbelief. Coach loved Dan. Dan loved Coach.

  Or at least that was what she’d always believed.

  Chip braked to a stop in front of her apartment. Damn. She was running out of time and might not get another opportunity to learn anything from him.

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Ask him.”

  “I intend to.” Lana shifted in her seat and stared at Chip. “Are you willing to give me the names of players Dan fought with?”

  He shook his head, obviously not wanting to say anything.

  “Come on, Chip. Give me something to go on. I promised my mom I’d find Dan’s killer.”

  Chip remained silent.

  “You know my mom has been through a lot. Doesn’t she deserve to know that her son’s murderer is in jail?”

  “I don’t have proof of anything,” Chip said.

  “That’s my job,” she said. “I’ll find the proof.”

  “Then do your job,” he said.

  “Damn you,” she muttered.

  “Maybe if you’d been honest with me, Lana, and asked me for help outright, I’d be more helpful.”

  “I said I’m sorry.”

  Chip shrugged. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too.”

  “If I have questions, can I call you?” she asked.

  “Questions about what?”

  “A fellow teammate, how he got along with Dan.”

  He grimaced. “Sure, why not. Give me a call.”

  “Thanks.” She placed her hand on the door handle but hesitated before exiting, regret over the way she’d arranged the evening gnawing at her insides. Chip was one of her oldest friends. No question in his eyes she’d treated him badly. And maybe she had.

  But she was doing her job. Police work was messy, and sometimes people got hurt along the way.

  “And thanks for dinner,” she said softly. “It was wonderful. I’m sorry I spoiled it.”

  * * *

  CHIP BIT BACK the words, “You ought to be.”

  Shaking his head, he exited the car and moved around to the passenger door. Lana was already out of the car, eyebrows raised to see him appear at her side.

  “You don’t need to walk me to the door,” she said.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I’m a cop, Chip.”

  “Shut up, Lana.”

  The more he thought about the way Lana had played him, the fact that she actually believed him capable of killing anyone, much less her brother, the more it pissed him off. But his mother, the woman she’d practically accused of aiding and abetting a vicious murderer, had taught him manners, and by God, he would walk Lana to her front door even if she were toting an assault rifle for protection.

  When they arrived at the heavy glass doors to the lobby of her apartment building, she turned to him, jangling keys between her fingers.

  “Look, Chip, I really am sorry.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “Maybe I started with you because we’ve known each other forever,” she said. “I don’t know. Maybe I was comfortable with you.”

  “But it’s been a long time,” he said. “Hasn’t it?”

  She nodded. “I’d forgotten what a sweet guy you are.”

  Chip groaned inwardly. So now he was a sweet guy. At least when he was a murderer, he’d sparked her interest.

  “After spending the evening with you and getting to know you again, I realize I made a huge mistake.” She placed her hand on his arm. “Please forgive me.”

  He stared into her troubled dark eyes, searching for the young girl he’d known. For a brief second he found her, buried beneath too many years of grief and mourning. But no way was he letting her off the hook so easily.

  She’d accused him of fricking murder.

  “Tell me this, Lana. You’re a cop, a trained law-enforcement officer. You know the score, that not all murders are solved. Why is finding Dan’s killer so important to you after all this time?”

  She blinked, as if surprised by his question. As if maybe she hadn’t given it any consideration in a long time. She removed her hand and looked away.

  “If you saw what the murder did to my mother, you’d understand.”

  “I’m sorry about your mom, but you need to move on, kiddo,” Chip said, trying to make his tone gentle. “He’s gone.”

  “I know that,” she said, her voice sharp, defensive, having obviously heard those exact words or some variation many times before, from a lot of people. People closer to her than he was.

  “Of course you do,” he said. “Well, good night, Lana,” he said. “And good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  He watched until she was safely inside the lobby and had boarded an elevator. When the doors shut, cutting off his view of her staring at her shoes, he released a breath, feeling like a door had closed on an important but frustrating chapter of his life.

  Should he have told her the truth about her brother? Would learning the kind of person Dan had been help her investigation? Maybe, but it would also hurt her. He shook his head, again deciding he couldn’t be the on
e to burst Lana’s foolish bubble.

  Assuming she followed through and dug into the rest of the team, if she was any kind of investigator, she’d unearth the truth soon enough.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MONDAY MORNING, STANDING in front of Coach Robertson’s office, Lana inhaled stale sweat, moldy old books and something else she couldn’t identify. She heard laughter and the sound of gym lockers slamming shut, and suddenly she was eighteen and more than a little confused about life. Stunned by the force of the memories, she closed her eyes.

  All this mental noise even though she’d waited eight years to venture onto the campus of Southeast Miami High. But she needed to talk to Coach Robby to follow up on what she’d learned from Chip.

  Shaking her head, she rapped on the half-closed door to Coach Robertson’s office.

  “Yeah?” came the gruff response.

  She pushed open the door. Coach’s back was to her, his once muscled shoulders now slightly rounded and slumped. He was standing in front of his scarred wooden desk, staring at an object he held in both hands. Cardboard boxes sat on every flat surface around the room.

  When she moved deeper into his office, she saw that he was holding a framed award that had grown yellow and stained with age. Coach was packing up the space he had worked out of for thirty years.

  “Hey, Coach,” she said softly.

  He turned and blinked at her. “Oh,” he said. “Lana.”

  Suspecting her arrival had jerked him out of another place and time, she smiled at him. She knew the feeling.

  He lowered the award and leaned against the desk. “What brings you to this old man’s den?”

  “I knew this was your last day and wanted to say goodbye.”

  “That’s sweet,” he said, his tone gruff again.

  “Do you need any help?” she asked, motioning toward the boxes.

  “Nah,” he said. “I’m good. In fact, I’m rather enjoying a slow trip down memory lane. I’d forgotten about a lot of this nonsense.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, nodding toward the plaque in his hands.

  He raised the frame and gazed down at it. “My first Miami Herald Coach of the Year nod,” he said with obvious pride in his voice. He reached for another frame with a similar logo and showed it to her. “This one was from your brother’s senior year.”