Rick palmed his face and sighed. “No. Please, no.”
“Rachel, you don’t have to do this,” Diane started, afraid for the first time. “Everything will become clear eventually. I can wait. You don’t have to put yourself at risk to…”
“We won’t be at risk,” Rachel said.
“Yea,” Rick added, grabbing his plate from the counter and storming off. “Because nobody ever got arrested for breaking into a car.”
“Rachel, I…” Diane tried again to interrupt.
“Ssh!” Rachel hissed. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and pull some prints off the door handle.”
“But Rachel…”
“Or maybe we’ll set the alarm off and the cops will come,” Rick answered.
Rachel grabbed her own plate and Diane’s as well. She made for the kitchen as Macy and Logan performed various duck and cover pantomimes. “Or maybe we won’t. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Rachel, please!” Diane’s face had become red, hot. Her eyes were wide.
“You’re willing to take? What about me?” Rick snapped. “I used to be a cop, you know.”
Rick left the kitchen and Rachel padded in. “Believe you me, I haven’t forgotten.”
The sound of plates dropping into the rack filled the work area and Rachel reappeared in the dining room.
“Then maybe you could spare me that particular embarrassment and not get me arrested,” Rick growled.
“Guys!” Diane yelled with all the force she had. “Guys, would it help if you had the keys?”
Rick and Rachel stared at each other, then at Diane. Then they started to laugh.
“You have the keys?” Rick chuckled.
“I have a spare set, in case Mike ever loses his.” She dangled them in the air and gave them a little shake. “Bright red Honda Civic. You could always say that you’re there to retrieve my charm bracelet for me. I left it in the glove box.”
Rick looked at her suspiciously and frowned. “And did you leave your charm bracelet in the glove box?”
“No, it’s right here.” She shook her wrist and the little charms danced and jangled. But you can take it with you and use it as an excuse in case you get caught.” She undid the clasp and let the bracelet drop into her palm, then held both keys and bracelet out to Rachel.
With a sideways smile, Rachel took both. “Say, you’re pretty good at this.”
“Good at making excuses and getting out of trouble? Yea.” She winked then. “There are a couple of things you should know, though. Mike sometimes likes to go out to his favorite pub and toss back a few with his pals. But no matter where he goes or what he does, he has never been out past three. He’s in bed every night by three at the latest. He’ll sleep until at least nine in the morning and the parking lot is on the opposite side of the building from the apartment.”
“Good to know, Diane. Thanks.” Rachel spun on Rick, her face playful, her eyebrows dancing. “So…date night?”
“So, on a scale of one to ten, how mad are you?” Rachel asked as they were walking home.
“Oh, I’ve simmered down to about a six,” Rick replied. He did a good job of hiding his smile.
“For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry, Rick. And I swear to you, it won’t happen again. I just don’t know what gets into me.”
“I know what gets into you. You’re brilliant but you’re quirky. With a touch of OCD. You see unanswered questions and you go a little crazy. You just can’t stop digging until you find the answers, no matter what it takes.”
“You should have been a profiler.” She elbowed him for good measure, her face beaming up into his.
Rick snorted. “And you should seek professional help.”
“Hey, you’re the one who married quirky.”
They walked on for a bit in silence, enjoying the quiet, the moon, the soft breeze as it blew in from the bay.
At length, Rick said, “So, what are you thinking for this guy?”
“Well, I was thinking that he’s one of two things. He’s either a high-level criminal with enough power to be arrogant…”
“…or…”
“…or he’s just a guy who got in over his head.”
“And you’re serious about running his prints through CODIS?” Rick looked at her then, briefly and out of the corner of his eye.
“Sure I am. There’s no better way to get to the bottom of it.”
Rick stopped, turned, seized hold of her shoulders and made her face him. “Okay, but we do this my way. No hacking into CODIS. No hacking into anything ever again. Swear it.”
Her gaze darted back and forth between his eyes and she nodded vigorously. “I swear it. I will never hack into anything again.”
“Okay. Then we go. And when we’ve got the prints, I know a guy who can run them for us.” He took her hand and led her off down the sidewalk, shoulder to shoulder with her, the way they always walked. “And that will be the end of it, yes?”
“Yes,” she answered decisively. She walked on for a few beats, letting her head clear. “So, how mad are you now?”
“About a two. But I should be back down to zero by the time we get home.”
Rachel smiled at that and rested her head against his arm. She loved him to madness, not just for letting her go a little crazy once in a while, but for knowing when – and how – to reel her back in again.
By the time they reached the house, the breeze had died down and the air had grown warm. A light sweat bristled at Rachel’s upper lip as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. Morgan Fairclaws and Jean Clawed van Damme were there to meet them at the door, winding around their ankles and begging to be fed with shrill meows.
“So, how do you want to do this?” Rachel asked, sidestepping a cat long enough to put down her purse and keys.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” Rick sighed, “but I’m all full of meatloaf and not feeling so energetic. I think we should take a little nap, get up around two, then gear up and be at the parking lot by three-thirty at the latest.”
Rachel rubbed her belly and nodded. “Agreed. But first we have to feed these kitties.”
She reached down and plucked Morgan off the floor. Tucked under one arm, the cat offered her chin, purred at the scratches to her ears. Rachel made her way to the kitchen with the cat thus blissed, Rick following close at her heels with the male cat.
“I’ll lock up. You set the alarm.” Rachel was halfway to the front door when she said it.
“Deal. Last one to the bathroom has to use the hall bath. Go!”
Despite the lack of energy and the extra meatloaf weight, Rachel ran.
It was a shock when the alarm went off. For a few seconds, Rachel didn’t know where she was or what time it was. By the time she figured it out, Rick had already shut off the alarm and crawled out of bed. She yawned and stretched, her body waking as slowly as her mind.
Rick went into the bathroom first and she headed for the coffee maker, her morning savior. Only then did she look at the clock on the stove and realize that it was two in the morning. She moaned at the realization and began a short search for the coffee filters.
The coffee had only just begun to drip when Rick appeared in the kitchen doorway. Rachel took one look at him and giggled. “Sporting the latest in cat burglar attire, I see.”
“You better wear something black, too. Even if you’re not getting out of the truck.” He bent to peer into the coffee maker and see if it was done.
“What? What do you mean I’m not getting out of the car?”
“You’re not. If anything goes wrong, I don’t want you to be the one to go to jail. You sit in the truck and keep a lookout.”
“But…”
“But nothing. I have experience taking prints. I have the muscle if anyone does sneak up on me. And I’ll be the one to go to jail if we get caught. Now, go get dressed.” He stared her down. She opened her mouth to object but Rick made a loud noise and thrust his pointer finger in the direction of the bedr
oom.
She went without a word, though she had a full complement of retorts bouncing around in her head. She knew he was right. Rick was always right. Sometimes, she almost hated him for that.
When she reappeared in the doorway, wearing a pair of black jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, Rick was pouring two cups of coffee. He glanced at her long enough to note the clothes, but not long enough to make him spill the coffee.
“Nice.” He offered the mug to her with a smile. “Drink up. I don’t want you falling asleep in the truck while I’m tossing a stranger’s car.”
She pulled a face at him and blew on the coffee. Steam wafted up around her face and warmed the tip of her nose. “I got your back, babe. I’m not the one you need to worry about falling asleep.”
They finished their coffee in silence, then put the mugs in the sink.
“Let’s get our gear,” Rick said as he made for the back bedroom.
Rachel followed slowly, the hour and the stress finally slowing her down. In the back of the closet was a gun safe, built into the wall and hidden from view by a nice collection of winter wear. She watched as Rick grabbed his bag, the same old black duffel he always used for such things. He put his fingerprint kit into it, along with a flashlight, a set of lock picks, and several evidence bags. Then he turned to the safe and spun the knob to the first number.
Rick had a large collection of guns. Some were for hunting, some for protection. The bulk of the collection was just that and he never fired them. Those were kept in a gun locker in their bedroom and he rarely took them out. Tonight, he pulled an old Glock from the safe, popped in a new magazine and holstered the weapon. As he began to shut the safe door, Rachel put one hand on his arm and frowned.
“Don’t I get a gun too?”
“You do not.” He shut the door and gave the cylinder a decisive spin.
“But I’m a good shot. You know I am because you taught me.”
“I don’t care. You won’t be shooting anybody tonight.” He brushed past her, knowing she would follow, and not caring.
“What if somebody comes up to the truck? I’ll be defenseless. What am I gonna do?”
“Scream.”
“Scream?” She made a face at him and folded her arm over her chest.
“Yes. You scream and I’ll come running.”
“Sometimes, darling, you confound me.”
He kissed the top of her head and threw the strap of the bag over his shoulder. “And that’s just the way I like it.”
She pulled another face at him, mocked him silently. She was still rooted to the spot when Rick called to her.
“You coming or not?”
The apartment complex where Mike lived was on the west side of town, near the site of the old cotton gin. The gin hadn’t been in operation for over fifty years, but the tilted hulk of its main building remained. When there was a full moon, you could see it silhouetted against the moon, its lopsided form standing high above the hill behind it.
Rick circled the complex, turning right at each intersection, eyeing the parking lot and the lay of the buildings. There were four buildings in all, each with its own parking lot. He was looking for Mike’s Honda and by the time he spotted it, he knew exactly how it was all going to go down.
He pulled into the east lot slowly, shutting the lights off before he faced the building. There was an empty space next to the Honda but it would have been too obvious and would not have given Rachel a good vantage point to watch for interlopers. He parked directly across from the Honda instead, backing in so that his tags were obscured by the bushes which lined that side of the parking lot.
He turned off the engine and checked the clock. Three-thirty. Mike should be safely in bed, oblivious to the search of his car.
“Here’s how it’s gonna go,” he began, his eyes scanning the parking lot and building. “You stay here. Watch that staircase, and that one. Keep an eye out for cars coming into the lot. If you see anyone…” then he leaned across her and opened the glove box, pulling out the small flashlight inside “…You shine this right on that bare stretch of wall there. See? Anyone who might spot it will think that it’s a street lamp strobing behind the trees or a set of headlights turning.”
“Okay.” She checked his face and nodded vigorously. He was all business now. His jaw was set and his eyes were dark and crinkled at the corners.
“I’m going to slip over there and unlock the car with the remote. I’ll toss the glove box and console, print the steering wheel and gear shift. Then I’ll lock the doors manually and come straight back.”
“Okay, darling.”
“Now, if anything goes wrong and it gets to the point where the cops show up, you drive away. But slowly, so they don’t get suspicious. You drive straight home and wait for my call.”
“But the police won’t come. It’ll be all right, right? I mean, you won’t get caught.”
“I don’t plan to. But you never know. And I want you to be safe. I want you out of it.”
She dove into his arms then, shaking a bit and feeling the first telling sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. “We don’t have to do this. Honest. I can drop it. I’ll let it go.”
“No way! We’re this close.” He pulled her back and gazed into her eyes, offered her a reassuring little smile. “Now, just stay out of sight and let me do what I do best.”
He pecked her lips and gave her shoulders a little squeeze. Then he was out of the truck, clicking the door shut as quietly as he could. He nodded to her and winked and then he was sprinting across the parking lot.
Rachel watched him go, bit into her lips as she thought of all the things that could go wrong. Then her eyes shot to one staircase and then the other. Everything was quiet and Rick had caught a few breaks. There wasn’t a streetlight within fifty feet of the car, so the shadows offered him extra cover.
She glanced at the parking lot entrance next, then back to the Honda. Rick had already climbed into the car and was busy with his work.
The rhythm started over again. Staircase, staircase, parking lot entrance, Honda. Over and over again, without a hint of movement anywhere. From where she sat, she could see no sign at all of Rick. He was very good at staying out of sight while he worked.
Then she saw it: a dark shadow was moving quickly down the left staircase.
Rachel aimed the flashlight at the bare wall and turned it on. She could see from the beam that she was shaking slightly.
“Come on, Rick. Come on,” she whispered to herself.
Then the passenger’s side door opened and she saw something large and dark roll out.
The man was almost to the car now and Rachel sucked in a large breath and held it. Inside her chest, her heart felt like a blacksmith’s hammer.
She watched as Rick dropped to the pavement and clicked the door shut, her breath still held. Then he rolled under the Honda.
She nearly panicked at that, her breath escaping in a long rush and her eyes bugging out. What was Mike doing up at that hour? Why would he have come down to the car in the middle of the night unless…
Mike pushed the button on his remote and never knew that the doors were already unlocked. The headlights flashed and the interior light came on.
Rachel thought she was going to die when Mike turned the engine over.
Mike was about to drive the car out of the parking space and Rick was still lying under it.
Rachel almost panicked. Her hand was on the key, ready to turn over her own engine. She wasn’t sure what good it would do, but she briefly considered driving the truck right behind the Honda, stopping Mike from backing up, perhaps buying Rick some time.
Then she saw it. Rick’s large form rolled out from under the Honda and straight under the car next to it.
Now, Rachel was hyperventilating. The Honda’s wheels began to roll just as Rick pulled his legs under the other car. She watched as the car backed out of the space, then shifted gears and drove slowly away. Heart still hammering, she waited
for the car to be completely gone and fought the urge to run to Rick’s side.
As soon as the headlights turned onto the road, Rick rolled out from under the car and galloped across the lot. Rachel scooted out of his way and watched as he climbed into the truck.
He collapsed against the back of the seat and shut his eyes, breathing hard more from fear than from physical exertion. “God,” he groaned. “That was close.”
“Did you find anything? Did you get the prints?”
His head swung slowly in her direction. “Of course I got it.” Then he smiled and produced the print cards and an evidence bag. “I also got a sample of his DNA.”
Rachel squinted into the darkness and managed to make out a cigarette butt inside the little bag. “Oh, my gosh! You really are good.”
“I keep telling you that.” He tucked the bag and cards into his satchel and started the engine. “Now, let’s go home. I need a change of pants.”
Chapter 4
Rick and Rachel dragged into the diner at seven, looking less than peppy. Diane was already there, loading napkin holders and marrying the ketchup. Her head snapped up as the door opened and the bell tinkled. Her lips stretched into a smile and she stood upright.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in, would ya?”
Rick glared at her. “Is Logan here?”
“Right here, man,” Logan stuck his head out the kitchen door. He whistled through his teeth and smiled. “You look like nine miles of bad road.”
“It’s been a long night,” Rachel sighed.
“So, how did it go? Did you get the prints?” Diane raised her eyebrows into question marks.
Rachel made a slashing motion across her throat and shook her head.
Diane nodded, cringed outwardly.
“Listen, Logan, I need to run an errand. Can you get things started up for me here? I won’t be but half an hour.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, buddy.” Logan punched Rick playfully on the shoulder and smiled. “I got this.”
“Thanks.” Rick punched Logan back and turned toward the door. “I’ll just drop these off at my friend’s and be right back.”
Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1) Page 5