Threat of Exposure

by Lynette Eason

  She waved a hand. “I’m fine. Really. I got lucky. It was just a glancing blow. A couple of aspirin and I’ll be good as new.” She smiled. “Thanks for the cushion. If you hadn’t caught me, I would really be hurting right now.”

  His lips quirked in a half smile. “After the debacle with my informant, I figured I owed you a soft landing.”

  She laughed. “Right.”

  “Come on. Let’s go see what’s going on. Surely someone in law enforcement is going to want a statement from us. Did you get a look at him?”

  “No.” She firmed her lips into a frustrated line. “He had a ski mask on. I think his eyes are brown, though. The street-light reflected on him for a second before he disappeared.”

  Brock gave a short laugh. “We’re five miles from the border of Mexico. Almost everyone’s eyes are brown.”

  Gisella shrugged. “True.”

  Together, they made their way back to the front of the hotel, watching the shadows and wondering who’d left them such a scorching present.

  As they rounded the corner, Gisella spied the car across the parking lot. A smoking shell remained. Firefighters still stood on guard to make sure they’d gotten the fire completely out. “I’m glad we got most of our stuff out of your car before that happened.”

  Brock sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. My captain isn’t going to like this one bit, though.”

  Gisella peered up at him through her lashes, the expression on his face making her wonder. “Hmm.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She smirked and gestured to the car. “What number is that one?”

  Innocence flared as his eyebrows shot skyward. “What makes you ask that?”

  Gisella crossed her arms in front of her stomach. “Brock, how many department cars have you killed?”

  The innocence disappeared and his cheeks turned red. “Aw, man, how did you…” His lip curled in disgust. “Counting that one? Three.” He held up a hand. “But scout’s honor, just like this one, the others were beyond my control, too.”

  She shook her head and looked to see Sheriff Johnston heading their way. The thunderous look on his face didn’t bode well.

  “Sheriff.” Brock nodded at him. “Thanks for coming so fast. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  “Inconvenience?” Incredulous, he stared at them. “Someone blew up your car in the middle of our hotel parking lot! I wouldn’t call that an inconvenience. I’d call that… I’d call that…well…” He threw his hands in the air. “I don’t rightly know what I’d call that.” If the vein in the sheriff’s temple pounded any harder, Gisella feared he might have a stroke.

  She spoke. “Looks like someone doesn’t like us being here, they’ve just made that more than obvious. I’m sorry, Sheriff. We’re not here to cause you problems, we’re here to try and solve some. And we really can’t do that without your help.”

  Her soft words seemed to have the desired effect and his face lightened one shade of red, although his eyes stayed in squint mode. “I would say you’re right about that, little lady.”

  Gisella grimaced at the moniker, but held her tongue. “Who knew we were staying here?”

  Chris Locke arrived in time to hear her question and gave a humorless laugh. “Just about everyone in town five minutes before you left the diner.”

  “Or anyone who drove past the hotel and spotted the car that shouts ‘cop,’” the sheriff added. “We’re a border town. Not everyone who lives here has a fondness for law enforcement. This could have nothing to do with you two personally, it could just be someone’s sick way of saying, ‘We don’t like cops.’”

  Brock sighed and Gisella felt a mind-numbing weariness chase away the adrenaline rush she’d been going on for the past thirty minutes. She didn’t think it was someone who just saw their car and decided to burn it because it belonged to a couple of cops. This definitely felt personal.

  Like a message. A warning.

  But the sheriff was entitled to his opinion.

  “All right, we need to look at any footage from the security cameras.” She paused. “There are security cameras, right?”

  Brock rubbed his cheek. “One way to find out. Let’s find the hotel clerk and ask.”

  The sheriff shook his head. “I’m going to finish taking statements and see if there are any witnesses.”

  Together, Gisella and Brock walked into the office to question the desk clerk. For the first time, Gisella really took note of the office. It was actually quite nice. The plaid furniture looked fairly new and the flat-screen television in the corner was tuned to a national news channel.

  The clerk wasn’t at the desk when they entered so she rang the bell on the counter. “He’s not still outside, is he?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Brock left the office and returned within a few minutes. “Nope.” Then he noted, “Look, a camera.”

  Gisella spotted the one he was talking about. “It covers the office area.” She walked back to the door, opened it and looked up. “No camera here, but—” her eyes scanned the side of the building “—there, at the end. That one’s covering the parking lot.”

  “That’s the one we need.”

  Brock’s phone rang. When he glanced at it, he groaned. “I’ll just take this outside.”

  “I’ll talk to our guy whenever he puts in an appearance.”

  A door opened and Gisella spotted the hotel clerk coming from the restroom, wiping his hands on a paper towel. He pulled up short when he saw her, then offered a hard smile. Adjusting his name tag, he asked, “Can I help you with something?” He continued drying his hands. Then finally folded the paper towel into a perfect square before throwing it into the trash can next to the sofa.

  “We need to look at your security camera footage,” Gisella said.

  “Of the parking lot, huh?”

  “That would be the one,” Gisella agreed with a straight face.

  “Well…” He scratched his head then smoothed his hair back into place. “I hate to tell you this, but that camera’s broken. Haven’t gotten around to fixing it yet.”

  Gisella blew out a sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Steve’s lips twisted into a frown. “I don’t kid about stuff like that, lady.” His eyes narrowed into a cold stare and Gisella stared back. What was it with the people in this town?

  “Fine,” she muttered. “Thanks.” For nothing. Walking back outside, she saw the crowd had dispersed for the most part. She stepped up to Brock and the sheriff and told them, “No security video. The camera’s broken.”

  “Of course it is.” Brock pursed his lips and shook his head.

  “I think our hotel clerk has a touch of OCD.”

  “Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Yeah. I noticed that too.”

  “Not that it matters. All right,” Gisella rubbed her hands together to warm them. “I guess we can’t solve everything tonight.” She looked at the sheriff. “I assume you call in the forensic people from El Paso when you have something like this happen?”

  He gave her an incredulous look and the red returned to his face. “Ranger, we ain’t never had anything like this happen before.”

  She felt the heat rise into her cheeks. “Right. Well, I’ll just give some folks in El Paso a ring and ask them to come out and go over this scene. I want it examined in detail before morning.”

  The sheriff lost a bit of his indignation and gave a tired sigh. “Fine. I don’t blame you. I’ll post Chris on it tonight until your people get here. He’s got the night shift.” He shot her a look. “Not that we’ve really needed someone to do the night shift around here.”

  Until now.

  She heard the unspoken words as clearly as if he’d shouted them.

  He rubbed his gloved hands together and continued almost to himself, “I mean, we have the occasional drunk and disorderly, illegals attempting to cross the border, but this…” He broke off and shook his head.

  “I appreciate your
willingness to work with us,” she murmured. She looked at Brock. “It’s going to be a long night.”

  He raised a brow. “You think?”

  SIX

  Four hours later, after the crime scene team from El Paso finished their examination of the car and the surrounding area, Gisella made her way back to her room to crash onto the bed. She’d left Brock on the phone with an irate boss.

  Snickering, she wondered if he’d get a fourth car.

  Then she sobered as she lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the semiquiet that had finally descended upon the parking lot.

  She prayed to sleep without dreams.

  Surprisingly enough, she must have drifted off because the next thing she knew was the knock on the door that pulled her from the dregs of sleep. Groaning, she stumbled to the window and pushed aside the curtain.

  Brock.

  Of course it was. Who else would it be? He waved at her and she jerked back.

  Grimacing, she ran a hand through her hair, doing her best to detangle it.

  Opening the door, she looked at him and frowned. “What?”

  “You don’t use a peephole, either?”

  “No, too easy for someone to put a bullet in my head that way.”

  He smiled, a slow curve to his lips that made her nerves jump and her heart stutter. “I have the same philosophy.” With a glance at his watch, he said, “It’s nine o’clock. You ready to get moving on this case?”

  “You’ve got transportation?”

  His lips quirked. “It should be delivered within the next twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

  She shut the door and headed for the shower.

  Brock chuckled under his breath. She was definitely a beautiful woman. Spunky. Skilled and good at her job, he admitted.

  Then he frowned. She still had on the clothes she’d worn yesterday. What did that mean? Had she not slept at all last night?

  No, the crease on her cheek from a pillow said she had.

  Huh.

  Brock stood in the parking lot waiting for the vehicle his boss had reluctantly agreed to have delivered. Brock practically had to promise the man his firstborn along with assurances that he would guard the car with his life.

  True to her word, Gisella was ready in just under twenty minutes. When he opened the door at her knock, Brock gave her an appreciative eye.

  She sure cleaned up nice.

  Actually, she looked good not cleaned up. When she’d opened the door, still fresh from sleep, she’d had an innocence about her. One that she hid from the world when she pinned that star on.

  Of course she had to do that in her line of work or she’d be eaten alive. However, the impact her sleep-fogged eyes had made on his heart still lingered.

  “Sleep well?” he asked, tongue in cheek.

  “Shut up,” she murmured with a voice sweet enough to give him a sugar high.

  A low chuckle escaped him as two cars pulled into the parking lot. One for Gisella and him. And one to transport the delivery guy back to El Paso.

  After the exchange of keys and a warning of dire consequences should anything happen to this latest vehicle, Gisella and Brock climbed in and drove to the little diner where they’d eaten the evening before.

  Brock said, “I want to do a little observing.”

  “And I want to do a little questioning. Think I’ll get any answers?”

  He gave a shrug. “We can only try.”

  Brock drove the two miles to the diner and parked in front. Climbing out, they walked inside and found the same young waitress, Krista, from the night before, waiting tables. The place was filling up as they sat down.

  Krista approached, no pen or pad in sight. She set two glasses of water in front of them and asked, “What can I get for you two this morning?”

  Brock raised a brow. “Good morning, Krista. How about…the special?”

  “That’s what I would recommend,” she agreed, keeping her expression pleasant in spite of her eyes dancing with mirth. She’d caught on quick to the fact that he’d been studying the sign that said, Serving the breakfast special ONLY, this a.m. Two eggs, bacon, pancakes and grits for $6.95.

  Gisella laughed. “Make that two specials and a bottomless pot of coffee. I know I need it.”

  Krista started to turn away when Gisella asked, “Not that it’s really any of my business, but why aren’t you in school?”

  “Pop needed me again.” Sadness flickered in her blue eyes. “The teachers are good about letting me help him out when he needs me. Last night old man Jamison up on Three Circle Road died so Pop had to go declare him officially dead.”

  Gisella blinked. “Your Pop had to do that? What about the coroner?”

  Krista shrugged. “He is the coroner for about six different counties. Boot Hill is just where he happens to live.”

  “What?” Brock nearly choked on his sip of water.

  “Yep.” Krista beamed. “He was elected last year. My mom’s his assistant. She actually went to school to work on bodies. She was a funeral director back in El Paso, but when she married my dad, they moved here to be near Pop and Ma. So, Mom cleans up dead people and prepares them for burial after Pop declares them dead.” She shuddered and grimaced. “Which I think is just totally gross, but don’t tell her that.” She shot a look toward the kitchen. “Anyway, they’ve been busy a lot lately,” she said with a sad frown. “People turning up dead all the time it seems like.” Switching gears, she said, “Hey, I hear y’all had some trouble at the hotel last night.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  She shook her head and gave a disgusted sigh. “I hate that. This town’s gotten so stinking unfriendly over the last couple of years. At least that’s what I hear some of the older folks saying.” Another subtle lift of a slender shoulder. “I don’t know why. I just love having strangers stop in. Especially strangers like y’all.” She wrinkled her nose and gave Brock a smile. “Keeps life from being totally boring.” She grinned. “I’ll be right back.”

  Gisella drew in a breath. “She’s a teenager?”

  Brock laughed as he watched the young waitress. “She does seem older, doesn’t she?”

  “Well, she’s not, so you might want to keep that in mind.”

  He frowned at her. Did she really think he was that low?

  Before he could ask, Gisella said, “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Even though she was flirting with you, you did nothing to encourage it.”

  The heat in her cheeks mollified him.

  Krista stopped at two more tables before disappearing into the back with their order. The other waitress handled the patrons at the rear of the restaurant, casting a casual glance in their direction every so often. Brock smiled at her and she looked away in a hurry.

  Huh. Interesting. That wasn’t the effect he usually had on women. They usually went out of their way to get his attention. Not that it was something he was necessarily proud of—that’s just the way it was.

  Except for Gisella. She didn’t seem the least bit susceptible to his charm. And yet he could tell she was attracted to him. A fact that sent his heart pounding with gladness and his gut churning with anxiety. When it came to women, that was a new emotion for him.

  He looked back at the woman who’d intrigued him from the moment they’d met. She busied herself with drinking her water. “What do you think about the fact that Pop not only owns this restaurant but is also the coroner?”

  “I think that’s small-town doings for you.” She gave him a half smile. “In a town like Boot Hill, the coroner is here to declare one thing. ‘This person is dead.’ And trust me, even though he might not have any medical experience, his word rules.”

  “Yeah, I know you’re right. It just seems weird, that’s all. I guess I’ve been in the city so much lately, I’ve forgotten what the small-town stuff is like.”

  “Did you grow up in a small town?” she asked.

  “No. I grew up in El Paso. But l
ived in a small town for almost a year doing undercover work.”

  Her brow shot north. “Undercover? For a year? Wow. What did your family think of that?”

  He gave a humorless smirk. “They didn’t like it much, especially…” Breaking off, he wondered what he was doing. He never said much about the ex-fiancée, who’d refused to wait for him to finish the assignment. By the time he’d closed the case and come home, she’d moved on with someone else.

  Elaine hadn’t even bothered with a Dear John letter. At that point, Brock realized relationships might not be for him and had closed off that section of his heart. Or so he thought.

  And yet, here he was getting ready to spill his guts about everything to a perfect stranger. A beautiful perfect stranger. One he’d already developed a lot of respect for. Even though he still thought the powers-that-be were crazy for sending her into this situation alone.

  “Especially who?”

  “Never mind.” She didn’t need to know the details. He didn’t want to rehash it anyway. “It’s not important. Suffice it to say, they didn’t like it.”

  She studied him, her expression clearly saying she didn’t believe for a minute that it wasn’t important. But she didn’t push it. Instead, she asked, “What’s your family like?”

  “Awfully nosey, aren’t you?”

  Her cheeks went rosy and a glint that could be anger entered her eyes. “I’m supposed to trust you with my life. Is it wrong for me to want to know a little about the guy I’m relying on?”

  No, it wasn’t wrong. In fact, she had every right to know more.

  He looked away from that dark gaze that seemed to have direct access to his inner being and struggled to form an appropriate reply. “My parents are great. I don’t see them much because of the job, but when we get together, it’s good. I have one sister who’s married with four kids.” His lips twisted. “Now that’s what I call a dangerous occupation.”

  Gisella laughed and Brock relished the sound.

  “You should do that more often,” he murmured.