undercovertrouble_341-1e1.htm

by Undercover Trouble (Wings) (lit)

  Their next lovemaking carried more sensuality. This time it was slower, more deliberate, not threatened with the danger that she’d weaken. This time they were truly joined in spirit, confirmation that barriers separating them, for at least this short time, had been overcome.

  Morning came all too soon. "Did you sleep well?" Mitch’s deep voice rumbled in her ear, lifting her from the enchantment of yet another afterglow.

  "I don’t think I slept at all, but I’ll catch up later. Spooky needs to be let out. And he’ll be hungry. I’d better take him home and feed him."

  "Jen, there are so many things I want to tell you, I don’t know where to begin."

  "Sometimes it’s better to leave them unsaid until you can think clearly. I have to leave, but we can chat later."

  "I’ll put the finishing touches on your doorstep this morning, then we’ll have a long talk. Meantime, I’ll just lay here and watch you dress. Or are you going to run home naked again?"

  Jen smiled and pondered how she’d ever managed without this brawny tower of strength. "Well, if my brazen style bothers you, I’d better dress first. Guess you know now I’m not the prude you thought I was."

  As she dressed, she wondered how she would cope in the future when she was alone. Oh well, she’d have Spooky. Then she remembered. She’d sold him out, bartered him away. Her heart skipped a beat. One last tumble into Mitch’s arms for a farewell hug and kiss and she and the pup were off to her cabin.

  Dawn was just opening the sky to the new day. The day that would mark the end of her happiness. A cool breeze swept Jen’s face as she tramped across the damp ground. She stopped and gazed at the mist hovering above the lake. The happy chirp of robins flitting amongst the trees reinforced nature’s grandeur. The world smelled fresh and alive with early morning aromas--wood smoke, wild shrubbery, pine. She’d miss this place. Most of all, she’d miss a certain rough-hewn biker that knew everything about making her feel like a woman and not one damn thing about valuing his life. Or hers.

  Besides the reassuring company of her pet, she needed advice, and she needed it quick. She let the Spooky out for a run and when he came back in she poured dog biscuits into his dish and placed it at her feet. Now she had time to log into her computer.

  Her fingers slid over the keys in attack. She reached the chat room she sought and scanned the list of occupants. No Nightspook. She was about to shut down when his picture ID appeared.

  Hello, Pixie. What brings you online at this early hour?

  I have major trouble. I don’t know what to do.

  A long pause made her wonder if he’d decided to talk with someone else more interesting.

  What’s wrong?

  Strong forces have taken over my life.

  Explain, please.

  I’m going to betray a friend.

  How?

  I’ve turned over information I have to a criminal. He wants to get my friend.

  Another long pause.

  What is it you want me to tell you?

  How I can live with myself.

  Does this friend suspect what you’re going to do?

  Not at all.

  Then it seems to me you should reconsider before you make a mistake so serious you’ll never recover.

  You don’t understand the circumstances. I have to leave now. Bye.

  "Well, Spooky, at least he made me decide for sure that no matter what, I’m not turning you over to Bull. It’s time to give up my fantasies on the net. I’ve had the real thing and nothing can compare with it." Jen bent and scratched Spooky’s neck as he buried his head in his bowl. "We’re going on an adventure today."

  ~ * ~

  "So Jen is going to give me away, huh?" Mitch paced his living room floor. As he glanced at the cold ashes in the fireplace, his temper spiked at the memory of how loving and indulgent she’d been. She must have found something here that clued her into me being a cop. Goddammit; she’s one sneaky bitch.

  The shrill ring of the phone broke his thoughts.

  "Don? ‘bout time you got back to me."

  "Listen up, Mitch. We have no idea where the leak in the department is."

  Mitch backed off from the burst of coughing coming through the phone. "Damn it, Don, have you seen a doctor?"

  "Yep, he’s treating me with some kind of gunk. Forget about me. As far as I know it’s just the chief and his deputy that know what you’re doing. I never did trust the chief’s deputy. Bart has had a few run-ins with Internal Affairs. They couldn’t nail him for anything, though. He’s pretty shifty."

  "I’ve known Bart Johnson for years, Don. I’ve always found him straight to deal with. Maybe I’ve let his friendship cloud my judgment."

  "Yeah, it’s possible. I have as little to do with him as I can. I don’t like the way he’s browbeaten some of the guys. I’ll keep trying to pinpoint the source, and in the meantime, we’re going to arrange a safe place for your neighbor. We’ll have to come up with a plan that’ll make it look like you’ve killed her."

  Mitch felt suddenly cold and weak. If he had her by the neck right now he could probably do the job for real. "We better plan it soon."

  "Mitch?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Keep an eye on your back."

  "Okay, will do." Mitch hung up the phone and walked out on his veranda. He stared at the loons gliding close to shore. Soon they’d be heading south and he wondered what new enchantment would take over the lake. Already there were tinges of red in the maples and yellow in the poplars. He wanted more time here, but he suspected that once he’d made good on his deal to eliminate Jen, he’d have to be more available to Bull and the others. Who knew what he’d have to do to stay within the confines of their operations until there was enough evidence to pack them in prison?

  Jen was a bigger problem right now. She’d have to be sent away and some clever way found to fake her death. His mind was rattled by the whole episode. First the leak had to be plugged, otherwise the gang would find out it was a setup and learn he was a cop. If they didn’t already know. His thoughts focused on Bart Johnson. Was he really the leak? Don seemed certain. Mitch kicked at the railing post. We know Bull was onto the fact the prosecutor had a witness. Mitch thought back to Spike leaving the bar on a directive from Bull. It makes sense that he could also know I was that witness and this whole thing about me joining the group is a setup--to keep me from testifying and help them find Jen as well. But why didn’t they know where Jen was right from the start? Bart would never own up, no sense in asking him. Who might have an inkling? Only one person. He hurried into the cottage and picked up the phone.

  "Internal Affairs? I want to speak with Inspector James." He waited.

  "Hello, Rick James here."

  "Rick, I need some info. Can we meet someplace quiet?"

  "I’m running a big inquiry today, but I can meet you before it starts, about eight o’clock in the park."

  "That early? Shit! I had other things planned."

  "That’s the best I can do."

  "Okay."

  "Want to give me a clue what you’re concerned about?"

  "Bart Johnson."

  "Okay, I’ll look up our file on him. I can tell you right now there isn’t much there. He’s been a straight shooter."

  "That’s what I’m afraid of. While you’re at it, look up Don Lavers’ file, too."

  Nine

  ZOOM!

  "Yip-Yip-Yip!

  "Spooky, stop that."

  Jen reached down and ruffled the little dog’s neck. Where could Mitch be going at this early hour? Guess he’s not going to finish the doorstep. She checked the time. "Seven o’clock and I’m packed. We can leave now."

  As she gathered and tossed leftover food into the garbage can outside, Jen heard the rumble of a car moving slowly up the road--in her direction. At her feet, Spooky let out his peculiar low growl. Maybe friends were coming to visit Mitch, but along with Spooky’s displeasure, she had a premonition this wasn’t the case. She rushed inside and
went to a back window, Spooky hot on her heels. From behind the side drape she watched a dark car nose through the trees and stop just before the entrance to her driveway. A man’s head appeared at the driver’s side window. He was strangely familiar, then she remembered noticing him and his ogling eyes at the bar.

  "Why don’t they go to Mitch’s place?" she whispered. What should she do? There was no point in running to his cottage--he wasn’t home and maybe they had dealings with him that she wouldn’t want to know about for her own safety. If she backed out of her driveway, she’d run smack-dab into them. "Come on, Spooks, we’re getting out of here."

  Jen picked up the little dog and slipped out the door. She stepped onto the deck floor, then ran back inside and grabbed her purse. She bolted for the canoe. Once there, without taking time to see if she was being chased, she climbed in and dropped Spooky in the center. Only when she untied the canoe and pushed away from the dock did she glance toward the cabin. Two rough-looking men were sneaking up the porch steps.

  "Dip and stroke backward," she muttered, trying to remember how Mitch had guided the canoe silently away from shore. At least this time she was in the right end of the boat. The canoe backed out with ease and when she shifted the position of her paddle, the craft sliced forward with hardly a ripple. She paddled silently along the shore where the bushes hid her from view of the men.

  "Better balance yourself and hang on tight, Spooky, it looks like rough going, but we have to make it across the lake where I can call the police. What do you suppose those men want with us? They must know Mitch lives next door."

  Jen looked back toward her cottage, but all she could see was the dock--it was empty. She cut into the breeze toward open water. After twenty minutes of strenuous effort, she seemed to have made little progress. The wind had picked up, becoming stronger the farther from shore she traveled. The choppy surface didn’t provide the easy glide she’d had on her tour with Mitch. The canoe teetered and rolled on the high waves as they crashed against the bow. Up and down, up and down. Spooky moved to the bow. Occasionally, he’d glance back at her, lick his lips, then turn, pointing his head straight ahead, his ears flat. She was sure he knew there was danger around them, yet he didn’t whimper.

  Jen struggled to keep the canoe aimed into the wind, but she didn’t have the skill. The craft floundered, tossed about like a match on the sea. She searched the shoreline behind her. They were only a third of the way across, not even far enough that a cry for help would be heard. God, it’s scary out here, and I don’t have a lifejacket. There’s not a chance that Mitch can help us this time. Mitch’s face flashed before her eyes and brought a sense of calm. She wanted to see him again. She paddled harder.

  Jen gripped the paddle with an iron grasp. Her arms ached with the strain. Determined to stay afloat, she focused on the far shore and tried to think. Could she just go with the waves long enough to get a few minutes rest, even if they carried her back a short distance? She raised the paddle to try, intending to take a quick breather. That moment was all it took for her to lose control. The canoe swerved sideways, leaving itself open to a broadside sweep of ruthless waves. The battered craft flipped and landed upside down.

  Jen sank beneath the water, plummeting in a downward spiral until she reached bottom. Her feet automatically kicked off. When she surfaced, her depleted lungs dragged in whatever they could--water and air. She coughed and choked. Once she regained control of her breathing, she wiped her eyes and scanned the vicinity. "Spooky! Spooky?" She twisted frantically in all directions and, not able to see him, dove under the canoe. There was no sign of the pup--she was forced back up for air.

  Thankful the canoe carried flotation capability in the bow and stern, she hauled herself partway up on the canoe’s upturned bottom. When she pressed her hands onto the slick fiberglass, trying for a firm hold, she slid off. The waves splashed over her head and left her floundering as she attempted to stay with the craft. She swallowed more of the lake and hacked it out. Her teeth chattered, and she realized she had more than Spooky and the water to worry about now. Though the water was unseasonably warm, could she be in for hypothermia, she wondered? She swam to the rope used to tie the canoe to her dock and flung it over the keel. The stiff breeze and lashing whitecaps fought her viciously, but once again she managed to worm her way onto the canoe; this time she had something to hold onto. She raised herself as high as she could and searched the water. A short distance away, a small furry head bobbed, ears tight against his head, paws plying the water. Her voice quivered when she yelled, "Spooky! Come b-back. The lake is too big, you can’t s-swim that far to shore!"

  Spooky ignored her.

  ~ * ~

  Mitch pulled into Point Pleasant Park and carefully scrutinized the surroundings before getting off his motorcycle. At this hour only a few people walked their dogs or jogged on the paths. Mitch hurried along until he came to the water’s edge and caught sight of the man he was slated to see. Inspector James held file folders under his arm.

  "Hi, Rick. I appreciate you taking the time to meet me."

  "Haven’t seen you for ages, Mitch. Sounds like you’re getting into business that involves my department. We can’t have leaks. Lives are at stake. What do you want to know?" The grim line of the inspector’s mouth accented his irritation that someone could put any cop at risk. "I can’t hand over these files, but I can answer questions."

  Mitch motioned to a bench. They strolled over and sat down. "I’m fishing. First, tell me if there’s ever been anything suspicious about Bart Johnson. Any violations in his record, any complaints?"

  "I already looked after you called." He shuffled through the files, paging them briefly before shaking his head. "No. He’s Mr. Clean. Nothing but commendations for his exploits."

  Mitch swiped his hand against his mouth. "Okay, then." He sucked in a breath. "How about Don?"

  "You gotta realize, Don’s almost at the end of his career. He’s been with the force for thirty years and has lots of commendations. I didn’t see anything that might even remotely suggest he was on the take."

  "Someone is tipping off what we plan. Only four know what we’re doing and I don’t have a death wish. Are you sure you aren’t missing something about him?"

  Rick leafed through the file. "Nope, all that’s here are documents denoting his bravery and accomplishments and his health records."

  "Damn. I was hoping there’d be some little thing I could look into on Bart." Mitch stretched out his legs and crossed his feet. "I know Don’s going to be retiring soon, his health’s not been good lately. It’s all those years of heavy smoking. He finally quit about a month ago, cold turkey."

  "He should’ve quit sooner."

  "That’s obvious."

  The inspector elbowed him. "No, I mean he really should have quit sooner."

  "What are you trying to say, Rick?"

  "I’m telling you his health is worse than you think."

  "Cancer?"

  "You didn’t hear it from me."

  "Jeez, that’s not good news." Mitch stood up and stretched, then looked out at the whitecaps foaming from the stiff breeze. He pulled his jacket collar higher around his neck. "Rick?"

  "Yes?"

  "I hate to think this, but supposing you, as a married man, were in his shoes. What would you do?"

  Rick scratched his chin and frowned. "Hmm. I’d put my financial business in order in case the big C won out in the end."

  "You mean you’d look at what you have to leave for your wife’s support?"

  "No doubt about that. Marion is Don’s whole world. What are you suggesting? That he saw a way to boost his income?" His eyebrows raised in a light-bulb-flash moment.

  "I don’t want to think it."

  "But those punks would have nailed you in your coffin long ago if that were true, Mitch."

  "Not if he’s just started feeding them information or is holding things back from them deliberately. It would take a lot of gall to betray your friends, even for
money."

  "You may have something there. If I were in your shoes, I’d be very upset that my life is hanging in the balance of what he decides to tell them. I can’t remove him from work on just a theory, though."

  "He’s been holding back on how to fake Jen’s death. Could be he knows it’s not going to get to the point. She could be his next sacrifice. Maybe that’s why the prowlers were there. Still, that doesn’t ring true. They would have just crashed in and taken her if he’d squealed. Then killed me next. I can’t figure it out. Anyway, it bears more thought. Thanks for the information."

  Rick took off his sunglasses and slowly cleaned them with his handkerchief. "We’re going to have to come up with a plan right away to catch him. That’s my department, and I’ll start the wheels rolling as soon as I can. Until then, you have to be careful."

  "It’ll take time to get evidence, Rick. We don’t have anything but suspicions. I have to protect my own ass and Jen’s, too. She’s an innocent bystander in this."

  "Take care, Mitch, and watch--"

  "Yeah, I know, watch my back. That’s the warning Don gave me. I’ll keep you informed."

  Mitch’s motorcycle easily took the gentle curves at high speed on the open highway. His head spun with a chaotic swirl of betrayals. He didn’t have any proof, but he knew in his gut, Don had to be the one leaking information. Mitch’s pain was compounded by the fact that the only intriguing female in his life planned to turn his hide over to Bull for mincemeat. What possible reason did she have to betray him as a friend? What else would she have to tell Bull? Nothing. It didn’t make sense. Unless he’d missed something she’d seen, she didn’t know he was a cop. That was it. The way he’d had his mind on her lately had made him careless. She must have found evidence.

  When he finally turned onto the lake road, the umbrella of leaves held little appeal absorbed as he was in his thoughts. He noticed the strong wind chilled his body even through his leather jacket’s protection. Frosty weather would be here sooner rather than later. Another month and he’d have to go packing and find somewhere else to make his base. That’s if he lived that long. The way things looked now, he didn’t have much hope of penetrating the inner circle. Bull might already know his identity because of the leak and was playing him along until the right moment. Shit!