In the Arms of the Law

by Peggy Moreland

  “Gender. There’s always the chance that whoever filed the report failed to mention the birthmark.”

  He relayed the information to Reynolds, then sat back and waited, keeping the phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw that Andi had her arms folded over her breasts. Probably to disguise the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. But he didn’t plan for her to hold that pose for long.

  After listening to Reynolds’s report, he said to Andi, “That narrows it to two in our region and eleven nationwide. Want to try identifying marks or would you prefer Reynolds do an age-range search?”

  “Age-range,” she replied. “Same reason as before.”

  With a nod of confirmation, he passed the parameters of their search on to Reynolds, then sat back, mimicking her posture by folding his arms over his chest. He purposefully bumped her elbow with his in the process, and she quickly dropped her arms and shifted out of his way.

  Bingo, he thought, hiding a smile. He dropped his arms to bring the receiver closer to his ear and listened to Reynolds’s report. “That reduces the number to zero in our region,” he told Andi, “and three nationwide.”

  “Tell him to pull up all three,” she replied. “Let’s see what information has been posted about them.”

  “Pull up all three,” Gabe repeated to Reynolds. “Copy what’s posted and shoot them to me in an e-mail, all right?”

  After thanking Reynolds for his help, he disconnected the call and set the phone aside. Seconds later his computer beeped, signaling the receipt of an e-mail. Gabe quickly opened the message and began to scan it, but managed to keep one eye on Andi. She was leaning forward in her chair now, reading the message on the screen. The T-shirt he had loaned her looked more like a tent on her small frame, but he could see the slight impressions of her nipples on the fabric. Thanks to her fall into the lake and the wet shirt it had left her with, he already had a pretty good idea of the size and shape of her breasts, which he would sum up as small but firm and having dark brown centers. The thrust of her nipples against the T-shirt added yet another level of dimension to the image he’d previously filed away, one that would probably drive him crazy later that night when he was alone in his bed.

  She sank back in the chair with a sigh of defeat. “Nothing.”

  He slung an arm around her shoulders and hugged her against his side. “Hey. Don’t look so blue. We’ll identify the guy eventually.”

  She turned her head slowly and gave his arm a pointed look.

  He lifted his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I was just trying to cheer you up.”

  “When I feel I need cheering up, I’ll let you know.” Scowling, she rose and paced away, hugging her arms over her breasts again. “How much longer before my clothes are ready?”

  He bit back a smile, as he closed the screen and shut down his computer. “Twenty minutes or so. They’re in the dryer now. Would you like something to eat while we wait?”

  “No, but I’d take some coffee, if you have any.”

  “None made, but won’t take me a minute to brew some.”

  He led the way to the kitchen, with her trailing behind.

  As he measured grounds, she wandered around.

  “Nice place,” she said after a minute.

  He lifted a shoulder. “Works for me.” He switched on the coffeemaker, then turned, bracing his hips on the counter behind him. “The drive to work is a pain, but two steps out my back door is all the fishing and hunting a man could want.”

  Rolling her eyes, she pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. “I should’ve known you’d be a hunter.”

  “What’s wrong with being a hunter?”

  “It’s a coward’s sport! Give the animal a weapon and I’ll bet you’d lose your fondness for hunting pretty darn fast.”

  “Assuming the animal was a good shot.” Amused by the sour look she sent him, he turned and pulled two mugs from the cupboard. “But if it’ll make you feel any better, I don’t hunt for sport.”

  “There’s another reason to sit in a deer blind?”

  “I don’t sit in a deer blind, and yes, there’s another reason. Food.” He placed the mugs on the table between them, then sat opposite her and stretched out his legs. “Have you ever had a venison steak?”

  She snorted a breath. “No, and I’m not interested in trying one.”

  “You’re missing a treat. Venison sausage is good, too. As for fishing,” he went on, “I don’t do that for the sport of it, either. I eat what I catch. There’s a lake on the property, which keeps me supplied with fresh fish year round. Usually catfish and bass.”

  “Do you grow your own vegetables, too?”

  Ignoring the sarcasm in her voice, he rose to fetch the carafe of coffee. “Some, though I don’t have a garden per se. Just a few pots of tomatoes and peppers on the deck.” He filled the mugs, then used one to gesture at the plants lining the sill above the kitchen sink. “And I keep a few herbs handy for cooking.”

  She stared, as if he’d just confessed to being a cross-dresser.

  He set a mug opposite her and sat down. “What?”

  She shook her head, as if to clear it. “Nothing. I just can’t imagine you puttering around plants.”

  He rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “What do you imagine me doing?”

  She huffed and looked away. “I don’t think about you at all.”

  He lifted his mug to hide his smile. “What about you? Do you have any hobbies?”

  “If you’re asking if I have any interests other than my work, yes, I do.”

  “What?”

  “I happen to enjoy gardening myself.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she clamped her lips together, as if she’d just blurted out a closely guarded secret, which in effect she had, since he had no idea what she did when she wasn’t on duty.

  “What do you grow?” he asked, hoping to keep her talking.

  Grimacing, she dropped her gaze and pushed her fingertip through a drop of coffee that had dripped onto the table. “Nothing fancy,” she mumbled, smearing it around. “Tomatoes, onions, a few varieties of squash.”

  “A friend gave me some seeds for a hybrid beefsteak tomato. Lots of meat, fewer seeds. I’ll give you some, if you want.”

  He saw the spark of interest in her eyes, before she masked it by folding her arms over her breasts and looking away. “No thanks. It’s too late in the season to plant anything now.”

  He searched his mind for another topic, something she might be open to discuss that would give him insight into her private life. “So how’s Leo doing?”

  Her expression softened immediately at the mention of her partner. “Grouchy as ever. The doctor put him on a low-cholesterol, low-fat diet. He swears they’re trying to starve him to death.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt him to miss a few meals. He’s got to be a good fifty or sixty pounds overweight.”

  “Closer to seventy,” she said, then shrugged. “His wife’s been hounding him for years to lose some weight. His doctor, too. But Leo loves to eat.”

  “Y’all seem to be pretty tight.”

  She shrugged again. “We’ve been partners since I joined the force. Leo may have his faults, but he’s a good detective. Nose like a bloodhound. Tenacity of a bulldog. Eyes like a hawk. I’ve learned more from him than I ever did in a classroom.”

  “Maybe when he gets back from his medical leave, I’ll have a chance to work with him.”

  “When Leo returns,” she informed him, “you’ll be going back to your regular duties as an officer. Remember? This is only a temporary assignment.”

  Though every muscle in his body stiffened in denial at the reminder, Gabe managed to keep the emotion from his face.

  Lifting his coffee cup, he took a long drink, then replied with a vague, “Maybe.”

  Two

  When Andi strode into the patrol room the next morning, Gabe wondered if she had a funeral to attend.
Black skirt, black unstructured jacket, black closed-toe shoes. The only relief to her outfit was the stark white tailored blouse she wore tucked neatly into the waist of her skirt. Nothing in her choice of attire hinted at her femininity, yet she all but screamed sex as she crossed to her desk, drawing the eye of every male on duty, Gabe’s included.

  Rather than the all-too-familiar ponytail, on this particular morning she’d twisted her hair up into a loose knot on the crown of her head. A pencil, honed dagger-sharp, pierced the knot’s center, holding it in place. He imagined himself sliding the pencil out and letting her hair tumble down around her slim shoulders. It was an intriguing image and one he’d mentally played through several times since the previous day when he’d seen her fresh from his shower, her hair down and dripping water onto her shoulders.

  Frowning, he forced his gaze to the file he’d been reading before she’d arrived. He had no business indulging in sexual fantasies about Andi. Not when she stood between him and his chance of making detective. A bad word from her to Chief Prater could negatively impact his chance of promotion.

  And why waste his time on her, anyway? he asked himself in frustration. She wasn’t his type. She was outspoken and bossy. What his oldest brother Zeb would call a ballbuster.

  But, damn, if his blood didn’t run hot every time he so much as looked at her.

  “Thunderhawk!”

  He jumped, his carnal thoughts shattered by the chief’s bellowing roar.

  “Yes, sir?” he said, rising.

  “In my office.” The chief snatched the unlit cigar from his mouth, and added in a kinder voice, “You, too, Andi.”

  Accustomed to the chief’s preferential treatment toward his partner, Gabe closed the file he’d been reading and headed across the room. He reached the chief’s door at the same time as Andi and stepped aside, letting her enter first. His gallantry earned him a scowl.

  “Sit,” the chief instructed, indicating the two chairs opposite his desk. “Where are we on the McPherson case?”

  Since the chief had directed the question at Andi, Gabe sat back and listened.

  “We’re waiting on the results from the DNA test we ordered on the rapist’s semen,” she told him. “McPherson won’t walk this time. I can promise you that. The D.A. has assured me we’ve given him all he needs to win a conviction.”

  The chief snorted a breath. “I’ll believe it when I see it. We’ve had that pervert up on rape charges before, and he’s walked every damn time. I don’t know who’s slicker—him or his lawyer.” Scowling, he rolled the cigar to the opposite side of his mouth and reared back in his chair. “What about the Fortune case? Anything new?”

  “No, sir. We’re backtracking now to see if we missed anything the first time through.”

  His scowl deepening, he snatched the cigar from his mouth and tossed it into the garbage can beside his desk. “I don’t like having an unsolved murder on my books, and this one’s been riding for over two months now.”

  “I don’t like it any better than you do,” Andi assured him. “But without a murder weapon or a witness, we have little to work with. Once we identify the floater, I’m hoping we can establish probable cause and work it from that angle.”

  Nodding his approval of her plan, the chief plucked a fresh cigar from the box on his desk and bit off one end. “There’s a charity ball Saturday night at the country club. It’s a given the Fortunes will be there. I’m going to finagle the two of you an invitation.”

  Andi sat up straight in her chair, obviously not pleased with the assignment. “Why? We’ve interviewed every Fortune in the state of Texas and not a one of them was able to identify the body.”

  “True,” the chief agreed, “but the only clue we have is the crown-shaped birthmark on the floater’s hip, and that keeps pointing us straight back to the Fortunes. Somebody in that family has to know something. I’d request DNA samples from the lot of them, but I don’t want to do that until we have something more substantial to base our suspicions on. In the meantime, I want y’all at that party. Mix and mingle. See what you can find out.”

  He paused to run the cigar through his lips, wetting it, then shifted his gaze to Gabe. “You’re going to need a tux. It’s black tie.”

  Gabe stifled a groan. He hated wearing a tuxedo. The last one he’d worn was three years ago at his brother Matt’s wedding, and he still remembered the hour-long battle he’d fought with the damn bow tie that had come with it.

  “Couldn’t I just wear a regular suit?” he asked, hoping to avoid the torture.

  “A tux,” the chief repeated sternly. “I don’t want you sticking out like a sore thumb.”

  “There’s no need for him to go to the trouble of renting a tux,” Andi offered. “I can work the ball by myself.”

  The chief shook his head. “If you show up alone, folks might wonder what you’re doing there. I don’t want anyone to suspect that you’re on police business.”

  “He’s right, Andi,” Gabe said, siding with the chief. “We’d draw less attention together than either of us would on our own.”

  Andi strode out of the chief’s office, her shoulders stiff with resentment, and Gabe trailing behind.

  “Why’d you have to agree with him?” she muttered irritably. “If you’d kept your mouth shut, I could’ve talked him into letting me go alone.”

  “And miss out on a chance for a date with you?”

  “Hey, Andi!” a voice called from across the room. “How come you’ll go on a date with Gabe and not me?”

  “Stuff it, Reynolds,” she growled, then flopped down on her chair and narrowed an eye at Gabe. “And this is not a date.”

  Hiding a smile, he propped a hip on the edge of her desk. “Sure it is.”

  “Not in my book.”

  “A man and woman get all dolled up and go out for an evening at the country club?” He lifted a shoulder. “Sounds like a date to me.”

  She balled her hands into fists against her thighs. “It’s not a date,” she repeated through clenched teeth. “We’re working on a case.”

  “Call it what you want,” he said, then stood and shot her a wink. “But in my book it’s a date.”

  She curled her lip in a snarl as he walked away, then snatched up her coffee mug and stomped from the patrol room. In the kitchen where the employees took their breaks, she filled her mug with coffee, gulped a swallow, then swore when the hot liquid burned her tongue.

  “Careful,” a female voice warned from behind her. “Lawsuits have been fought and won over the scalding effects of hot coffee.”

  She whipped her head around to find that Deirdre had entered the room. Grimacing, she dropped down onto a chair at the table. “Haven’t you heard? You can’t fight city hall.”

  Chuckling, Deirdre took a seat opposite Andi. “You’ve got a point.”

  “What are you doing here?” Andi asked in puzzlement. “I thought you were working graveyard this month.”

  “I am, but I had to finish up an arrest report. A couple of teenagers decided to celebrate their newly earned high school senior status by spray painting the city water tower.”

  Andi sank back against her chair with a dramatic sigh. “Ah, youth. Those were the days.”

  “Yeah, then you grow up and find out that life sucks.”

  Andi drew back to look at Deirdre in surprise. “My, but aren’t you the cynical one today.”

  “Can’t argue with the facts. Things are easier when you’re young.”

  Noticing the dark circles under her friend’s eyes, Andi attributed her current mood to exhaustion. She leaned forward and gave her hand a comforting pat. “You’re just tired. Go home and get some rest. You’ll feel differently after you’ve gotten a good eight hours sleep.”

  Wearily, Deirdre pushed to her feet. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” At the door, she stopped and glanced back. “By the way, how are things going with you and Gabe? Are the two of you getting along all right?”

  Andi snorted a br
eath. “Depends on your definition of ‘all right.’”

  “He’s not coming on to you, is he?”

  “Wouldn’t matter if he was,” Andi informed her. “I’m not interested in Gabe Thunderhawk.” She flapped a hand. “Even if I was, he’s too young for me.”

  “Oh, come on. Seven years isn’t that big a gap.”

  “That would depend on which side of the gap you’re standing on. Unfortunately, my view is from the far side.”

  “Just be careful,” Deirdre warned. “Gabe can be charming when he wants to be, but he’s a user. Trust me. I know. I’ve got the footprints to prove it.” She flapped a hand. “But that’s old news. I’ve got a new guy in my sights.”

  “Really?” Andi said, unaware that her friend had a new boyfriend. “Who?”

  Deirdre shook her head as she walked out. “If I tell you, it might jinx it. And I don’t want to take a chance on blowing it with this guy.”

  Andi frowned as Deirdre turned down the hall, puzzled by her friend’s refusal to share her new boyfriend’s name. She certainly hadn’t been hesitant to share the details of her past relationships, including the one with Gabe. Her frown deepened as she recalled Deirdre’s warning about Gabe. Odd, but she couldn’t remember her ever mentioning having any ill feelings toward Gabe. In fact, according to Deirdre, he all but hung the moon. So why had she warned Andi to be careful around him?

  With a sigh, she pushed away from the table. Doesn’t matter, she told herself as she headed back to the patrol room. She didn’t need to be warned away from Gabe Thunderhawk. Unlike Deirdre, who slipped from one bad relationship to another in her almost desperate search for Mr. Right, Andi didn’t want or need a man in her life. She’d come to that conclusion her senior year in college. And it wasn’t from something she’d learned in the classroom. She’d been taught that particular lesson in a bedroom.

  Deirdre unlocked her apartment, then stooped to pick up the morning paper and scanned the headlines as she stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind her and she whirled, her hand going instinctively to the gun holstered at her waist.