In the Arms of the Law

by Peggy Moreland

  “Your place.”

  Andi didn’t want Gabe nosing around her house, but trying to stop him was like trying to stop a bulldozer on a downhill course.

  He dusted the garage door for prints, did a complete sweep of her front and backyard and even climbed up on her roof. When none of those things produced any evidence, he returned to the driveway and stood before the brown construction paper she’d used to cover up the graffiti.

  “Mind if I take a look?” he asked.

  Though she knew he wouldn’t find any clues to her vandal’s identity there, either, she stood back and watched while he peeled back the duct tape.

  As the paper fell away, exposing the word whore, she set her jaw and waited for his reaction, silently praying he wouldn’t make the same associations she had when she’d first seen the word.

  When he remained silent, staring, she dropped her arms and snatched the paper up from the drive. “Talented guy, huh?” she said as she slapped the paper over the door, covering up the vandal’s work. “A real Picasso.”

  Gabe closed a hand over her wrist. “Where do you keep your paint?”

  She shot him a frown. “If you think I’m stupid enough to leave cans of spray paint lying around for some idiot to steal, you’re wrong.”

  “That wasn’t what I was suggesting. I want the paint that was originally used on the door.”

  Firming her lips, she whacked a fist against the duct tape, pressing it back into place. “No way. You’re not painting my garage door.”

  He unbuttoned a cuff and began rolling up his sleeves. “Try and stop me.”

  It was hard enough for Andi to allow someone to do something for her that she was more than capable of doing herself. But to stand around and watch him do it required more stamina than she possessed.

  So while Gabe repainted her garage door, she hid inside her house and passed the time by surfing the Internet for mention of a missing person bearing a crown-shaped birthmark. One-by-one she clicked the links produced by the search engine. She had eliminated three screens worth of possibilities when she heard the back door open and Gabe call, “Andi?”

  Still peeved with him, she called irritably, “In here!”

  She glanced over her shoulder as he entered the room, bringing with him the scent of fresh paint and the stronger, more pungent odor of paint thinner.

  He stopped behind her chair and looked over her shoulder as he buttoned his cuffs at his wrists. “What are you doing?”

  She reached for the mouse to click another link. “Searching the Internet for our Lost Fortune.”

  “Find anything?”

  “Not yet.” Another screen popped up and she began to scan the newspaper article that appeared.

  Gabe dragged up a stool and positioned it beside her chair. “We need to talk,” he said as he sat down.

  Her attention focused on the article she was reading, she said distractedly, “About what?”

  “The graffiti.”

  She tensed, but kept her gaze on the screen. “What about it?”

  “I don’t think this was random. Whoever did this meant it as a message.”

  “Since I’m the only person living here, I suppose that message was meant for me.”

  “So it would seem. And since you’re an employee of the police department, it would be natural to assume the message was spawned by something you did in the line of work, rather than directed at you as a person.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed hesitantly. “So?”

  “So why the word whore? Pig. Skunk. Even bitch, I could understand. Whore just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Vandalism seldom does,” she replied evasively.

  “You’re not a promiscuous woman, Andi.”

  She swallowed, but still couldn’t find the courage to look at him. “You’ve got to quit with these compliments, Gabe.”

  He shot to his feet. “Would you quit with the sarcasm? This is serious.”

  “Would you rather I scream and cry? Sorry. That’s not my style.”

  He turned away with a sigh and dragged a hand over his hair. “I think I know who did this.”

  Stunned, she spun her chair around. “Who?”

  “Deirdre.”

  She stared, then choked a laugh. “Come on, Gabe. Deirdre’s my friend. If she had something to say to me, she’d say it to my face. She wouldn’t need to spray it in Krylon on my garage door.”

  “What if the message wasn’t for you? What if it was revenge against me?”

  She bit her lower lip, remembering the warning about Gabe that Deirdre had offered in the break room. He’s a user…. I’ve got the footprints to prove it.

  “I wouldn’t put it past her,” he went on. “She’s been hassling me ever since I broke things off with her. Following me around town. Leaving notes on my truck. Calling my house all hours of the night and hanging up.”

  She thought of the hang-up calls she’d received during the last month, then shook off the doubts that were rising, refusing to believe that Deirdre would do anything so juvenile or petty.

  She spun her chair back around to face the screen. “Sorry, Gabe,” she said as she searched for the point where she’d stopped reading. “But your ego is showing. Deirdre isn’t pining away for you like you think. She’s got a new man in her life. She told me so herself.”

  “Then how do you—”

  A phrase seemed to leap at her from the screen and she held up a hand, silencing him. “Listen,” she said, and began reading. “‘Elizabeth DuBois, wife of the missing man, describes her husband as five-ten, weighing approximately one hundred and seventy-five pounds and bearing a crown-shaped mark on his hip. Anyone with information concerning the whereabouts of Chad DuBois should call the New Orleans Police Department at blah, blah, blah….’”

  She spun her chair around. “This could be our floater! The Lost Fortune!”

  “Maybe,” he said hesitantly as he crossed to look at the screen. After reading the information, he straightened, shaking his head. “That article is two weeks old.”

  “So? Our floater’s been around for over two months.” She leaped from the chair, flung her arms around his neck, then charged for the door.

  “Pack your bags, Thunderhawk,” she called over her shoulder. “We’re going to Louisiana!”

  By the time they landed in New Orleans, it was after ten at night. Planning to pay a visit to Mrs. DuBois the next morning, they rented a car and drove to a hotel.

  After parking, Gabe grabbed their bags and led the way into the lobby. He dropped the bags by the front desk. “We need a room for the night,” he told the clerk.

  “Queen or a king?”

  Stifling a yawn, he reached in his back pocket for his wallet. “King.”

  An elbow rammed his ribs.

  He shot Andi a frown. “What the hell was that for?”

  She burned him with a look, then said to the desk clerk, “Make that two kings.”

  The clerk eyed them curiously as he adjusted his computer screen. “I’ll check availability.” He studied the screen a moment, then smiled. “It appears we have two adjoining kings on the fifth floor.”

  Gabe dropped his credit card on the counter. “Fine. We’ll take ’em.”

  Andi shoved her card next to his. “Put the charges for my room on my card.”

  The man looked at Gabe, as if unsure what to do.

  “Do as the lady says,” he said wearily. “She’s the boss.”

  After signing his credit slip and receiving his key, Gabe picked up his bag and headed for the elevator. He punched the button, then looked up at the floor indicator, watching the car’s slow descent.

  Andi joined him seconds later. “Are you crazy?” she whispered angrily. “If we had turned in an expense voucher for only one room, everybody at the station would think we’re having an affair.”

  “Well, aren’t we?”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it when she saw that the desk clerk was watching their exchange with
obvious interest.

  The elevator doors swished open.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” she said under her breath, then stepped inside.

  When Gabe didn’t follow, she slapped a hand against the door to keep it from closing. “Well?” she asked impatiently. “Are you coming or not?”

  He stared at her a long moment, then turned away. “Not.”

  Dressed for bed, Andi paced her hotel room, listening for a sound from the room next door. She stopped to glance at her wristwatch and groaned when she saw that it was after two in the morning.

  And still no sign of Gabe.

  Where could he have gone? she asked herself for the hundredth time since arriving at her room. Surely he wouldn’t have left town without her?

  Remembering the look on his face in the lobby before he’d turned and walked away, she sank to the side of the bed and covered her face with her hands. She should have told him before they left town that she had no intention of continuing their affair. If she had, they could’ve avoided that whole ugly scene in the lobby. But she’d been so caught up with the prospect of finally putting closure on the Lost Fortune case, she hadn’t thought of anything else.

  A sound came from the hallway.

  She dropped her hands and straightened, listening, sure that she had heard movement in the room next to hers. Hurrying to the door that joined her room to Gabe’s, she twisted it open, then knocked on the inner door that opened from his room. “Gabe?” she called hesitantly. “Is that you?”

  She waited, listening, then knocked again, louder. “Gabe?”

  She lifted her hand to knock a third time, but the door swung open.

  She slowly lowered her hand. “Where have you been? I was worried.”

  Scowling, he turned away, stripping off his shirt. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

  Determined to set things straight between them, she strode into his room. “We need to talk.”

  He snatched a hanger from the closet rod and draped his shirt over it. “No need. I got the message loud and clear. You don’t want anyone to know that we’ve slept together.” He hooked the hanger over the rod, then reached for his belt. “You’ve got my word. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Dammit, Gabe,” she said in frustration. “You make it sound like I’m ashamed of you or something.”

  He glanced her way and lifted a brow. “Well, aren’t you? You do outrank me,” he reminded her. “I’m sure sleeping with a lowly police officer must be like slumming for a detective. And there is that problem with the difference in our ages,” he went on, then stopped to scratch his head. “But now that I think about it, shouldn’t snagging a younger man be something an older woman would want to brag about, not hide?”

  She felt the tears rising and stubbornly fought them back.

  He snapped his fingers. “Wait. I know what the problem is. It’s because I’m a Native American, isn’t it? You’re probably one of those racists who thinks Indians should still be locked up on reservations. It’s okay to sleep with one, but you sure as hell wouldn’t want to be seen with one.”

  She clapped her hands over her ears. “Why are you saying these things?” she cried. “Is it to hurt me? To get even with me because I hurt you?” She let her hands fall to her sides, suddenly too tired to fight with him any longer. “Well, if that’s the case, you’ve succeeded. We’re even. There’s no need to say any more.”

  She turned for the adjoining door.

  “So that’s it? It’s over?”

  She stopped, her hand on the knob, knowing he was referring to more than their argument.

  “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

  “It was working just fine for me.”

  She whirled to face him. “Well, it wasn’t for me.”

  “I don’t remember hearing any complaints from you while we were making love yesterday.”

  She curled her hands into fists at her sides. “No, but I’ve had an affair before. I know what can happen when it ends. I won’t go through that kind of pain again.”

  “So that’s it,” he said, turning away. “I get to pay for someone else’s mistake.” He glanced back to look at her. “Was it someone I know? One of the guys at the station?”

  “No. It was a long time ago. A college professor.”

  “Did he dump you?”

  She set her jaw and swung around, intending to leave. “That’s none of your business.”

  He lunged and caught her arm. “I think it is. If I’m going to pay for the guy’s mistakes, I should at least know what he did to you.”

  She pulled free. “He was fired, all right? It was against university rules for a professor to date a student, and he lost his job.”

  “I’d think a professor would be smart enough to know to be discreet.”

  “He was smart. A genius, in fact. My roommate found out about us and told one of the deans.”

  “Your roommate ratted you out? Man, that’s low.”

  The memory of the hurt, the betrayal she’d experienced at the hands of someone whom she’d thought was her best friend wasn’t something Andi would ever forget. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Did you continue to see each other after he lost his job?”

  She turned away. “He left town.”

  “Why didn’t you go with him? You obviously loved the guy.”

  “He didn’t ask. I went to his apartment one afternoon and he was…gone.”

  “And you think I’d do the same thing.”

  It wasn’t a question, but a statement, yet she felt he deserved some kind of response.

  “I don’t know that you would.” She turned to face him. “But I can’t take the chance. I won’t go through that again. I can’t.”

  He blew out a breath. “Wow. You really know how to make a guy feel like a jerk, don’t you?”

  “That wasn’t my intent.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He cupped his hands on her shoulders. “I told you we could be friends.” When she lowered her gaze, he placed his thumbs beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I won’t lie and say I’m not disappointed, but I’m still your friend. Whether we’re lovers or not doesn’t change that.”

  That he would still want to be her friend, after the angry words they’d exchanged, after all she’d told him, touched her in a way that little else could. “I could use a friend right now.”

  “I’d imagine you could’ve used one then.”

  Tears filled her eyes at the truth in the statement. Her best and only friend at the time had been her roommate, the person who was responsible for ruining her life and that of the man she loved. “More than you’ll ever know.”

  He slid an arm around her shoulder and drew her with him to his bed. “Enough talk for one night. Let’s go to bed.”

  At her stunned looked, he held up his hands. “Nothing sexual, I swear. Consider me your personal teddy bear. Your security blanket. Whatever you need me to be, that’s what I am.”

  He pulled back the covers, guided her beneath them, then switched off the bedside lamp. In the darkness, she heard the scrape of his zipper, felt the mattress dip as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his slacks. A moment later, he was lifting the covers and sliding into bed beside her.

  He slipped an arm beneath her head and leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good night, Andi.”

  Then he laid his head on the pillow next to hers and closed his eyes.

  Figuring this was just another ruse to get her into bed with him, she waited for him to try something, ready to slug him when he did. One minute passed. Two. She glanced his way with a frown. Three minutes. Four. Realizing by his rhythmic breathing that he was asleep, she slowly relaxed her tense muscles and curled up against him.

  When Andi awakened, she was lying on her side and Gabe was spooned against her back, his left arm draped over her hip. It was the same position she’d found herself in when she’d awakened in his sweat lodge. She waited f
or the panic to set in, but oddly, it never did. She felt safe, secure, even comforted by his nearness, which was weird, to say the least.

  The guy was a paradox. She hadn’t believed for a minute, when he’d tucked her into bed, that he intended to just sleep with her. She’d thought for sure the teddy bear/security blanket offer was just another ruse.

  But he hadn’t tried anything. He’d dropped a kiss on her forehead, said good-night, then gone to sleep. Nothing sexual, he’d promised. And he’d kept his word. She should be ecstatic, relieved.

  So why was she disappointed?

  His nose bumped the curve of her neck, and she tensed.

  “Good mornin’,” he said sleepily.

  Here it comes, she thought, holding her breath. The seduction she’d expected.

  But instead of snuggling up to her, he flung himself up from the bed, stretched his arms to the ceiling, then dropped them with a sigh and headed for the shower.

  “Hope you’re planning on having breakfast,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m starving.”

  By all appearances, Chad and Elizabeth DuBois were living the quintessential middle-class existence. Two-story brick home, with a well-groomed yard and an SUV parked in the drive.

  Andi wondered how long Mrs. DuBois would be able to continue her current lifestyle if her husband turned out to be Lost Fortune.

  “Let me do the talking,” she told Gabe as she pressed the doorbell.

  He nodded. “You’re the boss.”

  She drew in a breath, mentally preparing herself to deal with an hysterical female.

  The door opened, and a woman stepped into the space.

  “Mrs. DuBois?” Andi asked.

  “Yes. I’m Elizabeth DuBois.”

  Andi flashed her badge. “I’m Detective Matthews with the Red Rock, Texas, police department, and this,” she said, indicating Gabe, “is my partner, Officer Thunderhawk.”

  “I’ve been expecting you. Sergeant Maxwell called to tell me you were coming.”

  “If you can spare us a few minutes, we’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  Mrs. DuBois opened the door wider. “Of course. I’m sorry. Please come in.”

  Andi and Gabe followed her into the living room. She picked up a remote and switched off the television, then gestured to the sofa. “You’re from Texas?” she said as she perched on the edge of the chair opposite them.