“I promise, you’ll know when I’m not being on the level,” he told her as he watched January go directly to her vehicle. He didn’t understand. “And why are you opening up your car? We’re going to go to the store in mine.”
January stood her ground, making no move to comply. “That car seat we got from the police station is already installed in my car. Why go through all the trouble of uncoupling it, putting it into your vehicle and making sure it is all secured there?” she asked. “Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through for the same results. Besides, I already know the way to my market. I might as well drive there instead of giving you the directions.”
He wasn’t entirely sure what she was telling him. “I wasn’t planning on driving blindly around,” he told January. “I was going to ask you how to get there. I’m sure you’re very good at telling people where to go.”
She congratulated herself on not responding to his comment. “Well, now you don’t have to ask,” she said, smiling brightly at him. Perhaps a little too brightly, she conceded, but it was better than snapping at him. “Just buckle up and enjoy the ride there.”
He frowned as he waited for her to secure Maya in the car seat in the back. “Tell me, is everything always a debate with you?” he asked, addressing the back of her head as she worked.
January smiled as she glanced at the detective over her shoulder. “Not if you go along with whatever I tell you. You know, it takes two for a debate.”
“Yeah, it does,” Sean agreed, looking at her pointedly.
She had a feeling that they were standing on the edge of a possible blowout, or at least what could turn into a very nasty argument. Taking a breath, she decided to retreat. There was nothing to be gained by locking horns anyway.
“Did they by any chance tell you how long you’ll have to wait before they can give you Maya’s DNA results?”
That hadn’t taken her long to get to, he thought. Sean gave her the outside estimate that he’d been given, even though he knew it could be done faster. “Forty-eight hours,” he said.
“That long?” she asked, turning around to look at him. “And you couldn’t get them to try to speed things up?”
“Sorry,” he deadpanned, winking at Maya just before he got into the front passenger seat. The little girl looked very pleased even though she had no idea what was going on. “The lab tech I talked to told me that the department’s magic wand was out getting repaired.”
January frowned as she got into the front seat behind the steering wheel. She resented the detective’s flippant response.
And she wasn’t about to back off, at least, not yet. “It’s just that I remember hearing that a top lab can get results to a test in about twenty-four hours—or less,” she told the detective.
“Yeah,” he agreed, seeing no reason to contest that. “If they don’t have anything else waiting to be processed. Unfortunately, this is Chicago,” he said with emphasis.
It wasn’t as if this was the heart of the city, she thought. “A suburb of Chicago,” January stressed, buckling up.
“Still not exactly a sleepy little town,” Sean answered. “Look, I’m as anxious as you are to get an answer and find Maya’s parents—if they’re still alive and if they’re in the DNA database.”
“And you’re sure that her father wasn’t one of the dead men in the warehouse?” she asked. They had already gone over this once, but, January thought, it wasn’t exactly inconceivable to think that a mistake might have been made in the identification.
“He wasn’t,” Sean confirmed. “The crime scene investigators identified all three of them. They were all drug dealers, including my source. They were all trying to get out of the life and start new somewhere else by giving me the information I needed. Coincidentally, neither of the other two men who were killed at the scene was the guy I was looking to bring down, either.”
He hadn’t mentioned this before. “And who is that—or is that one of those ‘need to know’ things that I have always found to be so damn infuriating?” January asked him with feeling.
He noticed that her hands were gripping the steering wheel a little more tightly than he would have expected. This being kept out of the loop really bothered her, he thought.
“Considering that you’ve gotten pulled into this, I suppose I can tell you,” Sean said. He kept his expression neutral so as not to somehow convey to Maya that something was amiss. “I’m trying to bring down a well-connected criminal in this drug cartel.”
“What’s his name?” she asked again.
“Elias Mercer. He goes by ‘Kid’ Mercer because the guy has this baby face. It throws people off because, trust me, there’s nothing kid-like about the man,” Sean told her grimly. “I think either he or one of his people killed those three men at the warehouse to keep them from talking to the authorities about what they knew about Mercer’s operation.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Maya. Now there was total innocence, he couldn’t help thinking. “That’s also why I’m worried about the princess here. Most likely she didn’t see anything. And I know she certainly didn’t hear anything, but if Mercer suspects that she might have—even if it wasn’t possible—a man like that wouldn’t think twice about having Maya eliminated. For a man like that, there is no age restriction,” he told January.
He saw the social worker turn pale. “Look, I’m not trying to scare you,” the detective began.
“Too late,” she informed him. But she knew she couldn’t afford to just stick her head in the sand. These were dangerous people who had killed those men in the warehouse. “But better forewarned than blindsided,” she said philosophically. January stole a glance at Sean. “You’re sure that patrol car you told me about is going to be passing by my house on a regular basis?” It wasn’t herself she was worried about. She was thinking of Maya.
Sean didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
She blew out a breath, then forced a smile to her lips. “Well, that’s good enough for me.”
The next minute, she turned a corner and drove into a large parking lot, looking for a space near the front of one of Oak Lawn’s larger grocery stores.
“Okay,” January announced. “We’re here.”
Then, pulling up the handbrake and turning off the ignition, she turned toward Maya and signed what she had just said to Sean. That they had arrived at their destination.
Maya peered out her window, seeming a little uncertain at the sight of the store. Sean saw her expression and wondered if she was afraid or if this was just new to her. In any case, he wanted to set her mind at ease.
“Why don’t I get her out of her seat?” he suggested to January.
He really was turning out to be a very thoughtful person, January thought. “I think that might be a good idea,” she responded, adding, “It’s obvious that Maya feels safe with you.”
Sean grinned at the little girl. “Well, she has to be the smallest damsel in distress I’ve ever worked with to feel that way,” he told January. There was a touch of humor in his voice.
Just before they entered the store, January grabbed a cart, then brought it over to Sean. She assumed he would deposit Maya in the seat so that they could get around the store faster, thereby making shopping easier all around. She was certain that he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.
But Sean surprised her with another idea. “Maybe Maya would like to push the cart instead of sitting in it?” he told January.
“I just thought it would be easier for her—and us,” January said.
“Yeah, but maybe easier is not the way to go,” Sean said. “I’ve got a feeling that Maya would be happier if she was being challenged.”
“She’s a little girl,” January pointed out.
“Little girls need challenges if they’re going to grow up to be competent, smart big girls, and more importantly, competen
t, smart young women,” Sean concluded.
For a second, January was speechless. The detective’s answers and insight really intrigued her. There was apparently a lot more to this man than was obvious at first.
January laughed softly. “I thought I was the social worker,” she said.
“Oh, you are,” Sean readily agreed. “I’m just here to offer advice and to provide protection.”
“I thought you were here to show off your shopping prowess,” she teased.
“That’s just a bonus,” Sean cracked. Standing behind Maya to help her with the cart if it turned out to be too unwieldy, he asked January, “Okay, where to first?”
“Why don’t we start at the meat department and then work our way out to the other aisles?” she suggested, signing her words to Maya as she said them out loud for the detective’s benefit.
Maya looked as if she was getting all excited and was more than ready to begin this adventure with the people she apparently viewed as her two new best friends. The little girl wrapped her hands around the cart’s handle, looking very intense. She made January think of a racehorse at the starting gate, pawing at the ground and poised to react the moment she heard the sound of the starter’s pistol.
January observed Maya as the little girl made her way down the aisle, with January walking on one side of the cart and the police detective walking on the other. What impressed her most was that Maya didn’t act as if she was Alice in Wonderland. She behaved as if being in a grocery store of this caliber was extremely familiar to her.
“You know, I think Maya might know this neighborhood,” January speculated as she looked at Sean over Maya’s head. “At least, that’s my working theory.”
“Given that theory, it broadens my search base,” Sean told her, and then he nodded toward Maya. “Why don’t you ask her what she would like to eat tonight?” he suggested.
She didn’t quite follow him. “Why? You think what she wants to eat will tell us something about her?”
Where had that come from? “I think that’ll tell you what she likes to eat so you can make it for her and wind up with a contented little girl on your hands. A contented kid tends to be more cooperative.”
Sean had managed to impress her again. “You know, if you ever feel like leaving the police force, there might be a spot for you in social services,” January told him.
“Sorry, but dealing with all those kids without families, or with families that they’re better off without, I’m afraid that’s just too depressing for me,” he told her, keeping his voice deliberately low. He knew Maya couldn’t hear him, but there was a part of him that thought somehow the vibrations from his tone would register with her.
January smiled. “Not like the happy-go-lucky life of a homicide detective, is that it?”
He nodded, knowing that what he’d said might come across a little hypocritical, but he did view what he did as a service to those whose lives had been affected by deadly crimes. “We each dance to the music we like,” he told her.
Coming to a stop in the dairy aisle, January stared at the detective. “What does that even mean?” she asked him, stunned.
He gave her a mysterious smile. “You think on it and tell me when you’ve made up your mind,” he said. “Meanwhile—” he put one hand lightly on Maya’s shoulder to help guide her down another aisle “—let’s see if we can finish up this shopping trip before nightfall.” He looked down at Maya and gave her a wink.
The smile she returned said she understood him even if she didn’t hear the words he’d said.
* * *
In the end, they loaded up on all the essentials, picking up bread and eggs, several packs of chicken breasts and legs, one package of hamburgers along with buns, and the required carton of milk for Maya, as well as a box of cereal with some sort of nutritional value.
For herself, January picked up an extra container of dark-roast coffee and a large container of creamer guaranteed to sweeten her coffee as well as rendering it a very pale color.
Sean looked down at the creamer. “I take it you don’t like black coffee.”
“Only as a last resort if there’s nothing else,” she confessed. “Otherwise, life’s just too short to drink sludge.”
“Is that what you think of black coffee?” Sean guessed.
“No,” she answered with a straight face. “I also think it’s good for fixing potholes and cracked tar.”
“You know,” he said, reevaluating the coffee he had had at her place when he dropped by that morning, “I thought the coffee tasted kind of funny when I had it this morning.”
“And yet you drank it like a trouper.” January pretended to marvel.
“Hey, I’m a Chicago police detective,” he told her with a smile. “I’ve learned how to put up with a lot of things.” And then Sean glanced at Maya, who looked as if she was trying to follow what was going on even though January wasn’t signing anything at the moment. “Why don’t you ask her if she wants any cookies or ice cream?”
That, she realized, had been an oversight on her part, not because she wanted the little girl to eat only healthy foods but because she herself rarely indulged in anything that, for the most part, came under the heading of junk food. While that was a healthier way to go, she knew the worth of sweets when it came to a child and she didn’t want to impose her own standards on someone as young as Maya.
She signed Sean’s question to the little girl and was immediately on the receiving end of an enthusiastic response.
“You certainly called that one right,” January congratulated the detective.
“Well, that really wasn’t much of a challenge,” Sean responded. “I never met a kid who didn’t like cookies or ice cream. All things sweet, actually.”
“Since we’ve already picked up all the basics—and then some,” January said, looking into the cart, “let’s see if we can find something to appeal to Maya’s sweet tooth.”
With that she guided the little girl and the cart to the cookie aisle.
After Maya debated for several minutes and finally made her choice—several kinds of cookies, including mint chocolate chip—the next stop was the ice cream aisle.
That choice turned out to be even more difficult. There were so many flavors to choose from. Maya finally narrowed it down to three.
Watching her try to decide between the different flavors, Sean finally turned toward January. “Why don’t we just get all three? This way she has a variety to choose from—my treat,” he added, in case the extra cost might be why the social worker would hesitate.
“I wasn’t thinking about the price,” she told Sean. “I was thinking about the temptation of having so many flavors so readily available,” January admitted.
“Well, the princess doesn’t strike me as the type to break into your refrigerator in the middle of the night and gorge herself on ice cream,” Sean told her, smiling down at Maya.
“You’re right,” January confessed with a sigh. “I’m overthinking the situation—as usual.” When he looked at her, curious at her admission, she explained, “In my line of work, I always try to be at least three jumps ahead.”
“I can understand that, but why don’t you just try being in the moment and enjoying that for a change?” he suggested.
Damn it but the man was good, she thought. It bothered her a little, because she was the one who was supposed to be that way, not him. Still, it didn’t detract from the fact that he came across as a man who didn’t just do things by the numbers.
She peered at him as they moved away from the ice cream aisle. “Are you sure you don’t have any kids, Stafford?”
“No, but I’ve got cop instincts,” he answered. “Let’s go get this paid for.” As he smiled at Maya, Sean took control of the cart.
January had the impression that the little girl would have gladly followed him to the ends of
the earth and back if that was what she thought he wanted.
She caught herself thinking that she really didn’t blame Maya one bit.
CHAPTER 11
Sean wound up staying for dinner.
After going out of his way as he had, January felt she at least owed him a meal. She had intentionally bought extra chicken cutlets so she could make Chicken Parmesan, a meal that came across fancier than it actually was.
She knew having Sean at the dinner table would make Maya happy, and if she were being totally honest, it didn’t exactly make her feel as if she was enduring a hardship, having Sean at her town house.
Despite the fact that he didn’t know how to sign, Sean got along well with Maya, managing to entertain her as January prepared dinner.
After the meal had been consumed, Maya, looking as if she couldn’t contain herself any longer, signed a question to January.
Watching the little girl, Sean sensed that whatever she was asking might have something to do with his being there—especially since she pointed toward him.
“What’s she saying?” he finally asked January.
The social worker chose to answer Maya before addressing Sean’s query. Signing, she shook her head in response to Maya’s question, then turned toward the detective.
“She wants to know if you’re staying the night with us,” she told him.
“No,” Sean answered, looking at Maya. Not that it isn’t tempting, he caught himself thinking. “That reminds me,” he said to January. “I’d better get going. I’ve still got some paperwork to catch up on.”
“Ah, yes, the glamorous part of police work,” January commented, remembering the way one of the people she associated with said her husband referred to the dreaded paperwork that cases generated.
Rising from the living room sofa they had all adjourned to after dinner, January offered, “I’ll walk you to the door, Detective. We’ll walk you to the door,” she amended when she realized that Maya was right behind her, ready to shadow her every move.
Harlequin Romantic Suspense January 2021 Page 10