But she didn’t move, couldn’t move. She felt frozen, as if the cold had seeped into every cell of her body.
She knew the doctor was dead even before Cody performed his grim ritual. The amount of blood left no question.
“Oh, God,” Merlene breathed.
Cody gently pried the phone from her hand and led her to a porch step. “Wait here while I call this in. We can’t disturb the scene any more than we already have.”
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, still sitting on a narrow step of the Johnsons’ front porch, Merlene found herself in the center of an active crime scene. At least twenty cop cars—most of them marked and with their blue lights flashing—surrounded her. Some of the vehicles were from the Coral Gables Police, some from Miami-Dade County. Even a Florida Highway Patrol cruiser had come for some strange reason.
An hour ago the medical examiner’s van had arrived. Two men had entered the house pushing a gurney draped with a white sheet. They hadn’t come out yet, but she knew they’d eventually remove Dr. Johnson’s body. She guessed they were still processing evidence, likely taking photos, making drawings.
Yellow crime-scene tape flapped in a light breeze around the Johnson premises. She knew they’d placed the barrier to keep out nonpolice personnel. Scores of curious neighbors huddled on the other side, speaking to each other, staring at the house, at her, no doubt speculating about what had happened. Trucks from all the local television stations had already shown up, too. Vultures come to pick on the bones of the dead.
Merlene closed her eyes, wishing she could block out the chaotic scene. How had this happened?
“Here you go, Mrs. Saunders.”
She opened her eyes. Officer Garcia had brought her the coffee he’d promised. Finally. She lifted a plastic lid to find black, thick liquid swirling in a white take-out cup. Steam wafted into the night air. No cream, but that was the least of her worries.
“Thanks, Officer Garcia.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am,” the heavyset officer said.
He’d been with her since the police vehicles began arriving. Maybe he was her handler, assigned to keep an eye on her. She’d been over the chain of events three times with various detectives. She knew they were looking for inconsistencies, hoping to trip her up.
Merlene took a sip of the bitter brew and felt warmth slide into her empty stomach, but knew nothing could fill the cold, empty space created by the horrible image of Dr. Johnson’s lifeless body.
“We won’t keep you much longer, Mrs. Saunders,” Garcia said.
She glanced at Cody. Jaw locked into a grim scowl, he stood on the other side of the yard surrounded by five or six uniformed men. No doubt he’d told his story several times, as well. But while Coral Gables’ finest treated her like a suspect, they afforded Cody endless respect.
Of course the video would prove the arrival and hasty departure of the murderers, but she hadn’t yet mentioned its existence. No way would she turn over the recording before she’d reviewed it first. Evidence could get lost, and she needed to make a copy for her client. And to protect herself. Merlene took a hesitant sip of dreadful coffee, her mind racing. She needed to figure out the best way to handle a tricky situation.
Cody had been pulled from this case for a reason. What if one of the cops here was involved? She couldn’t take the chance.
Garcia flipped back a few pages of his small spiral-bound notebook. “Detective Warren vouched for you, Mrs. Saunders, but we still have to confirm your story with Mrs. Johnson. We’ve been unable to reach her.”
Merlene hated the idea that anyone would call Pat at three-thirty in the morning. Poor Pat. What a way to find out your husband had been murdered.
“You’re not planning on leaving town, are you, Mrs. Saunders?”
“Hey, lay off, Tito.” Cody stepped to her side. “Mrs. Saunders has done nothing wrong. She called me immediately. The body was still warm.”
Still warm. She covered her face with her hands. Still warm. “I can’t believe this.”
“If you’re through here, I’m going to drive Mrs. Saunders home,” Cody said, reaching to help her up. “Come on, Merlene.”
She started to object as she pushed herself up but bit back her comment. Cody was right. She shouldn’t drive right now. She was too shaky.
“What about my car?” she asked.
“It’ll be safe until tomorrow.” Cody took her arm and guided her toward his vehicle.
Her thoughts churned as they crossed the dark yard in silence. They ducked under the yellow ribbon, and continued toward his car, blue lights flashing in disorienting circles around them. Since there were police cars everywhere and likely would be for a while, her car should be fine. Still, she couldn’t leave without her camera or at least a dupe of the video.
She needed to think. Why couldn’t she come up with a plan? Because she was so very tired. Her feet felt like fifty-pound weights as she trudged toward Cody’s car.
Cody opened the passenger door of his unmarked vehicle, and she collapsed into the seat, undeniably glad to be with him on this awful night no matter what. She’d worry about why later.
He slid behind the wheel, slammed his door, then turned to her. Their gazes locked, and she couldn’t look away.
“Are you all right?” he asked in a quiet, steady voice.
She forced a smile. “Am I acting that scared?”
“It’s only natural you’d be shook up.”
“You probably see scenes like that all the time,” she said, glancing back to the house, wondering if Cody could be in trouble for being at the murder scene of a man he’d once investigated.
“More often than I like.” He shrugged and also looked toward the Johnson residence.
She hadn’t considered how phoning him could drag him into problems, create a difficult situation for him at work. But she saw it now.
“Right now I hardly know my name,” she said. That at least was the truth.
He squeezed her shoulder as if to encourage her. “I’ll drive you back tomorrow to get your vehicle,” he said.
She nodded. “I’m too drained to argue. I can’t remember ever being this tired.”
Cody almost said something, then shrugged and started his car. She closed her eyes and settled into her seat. Before the car moved, she sat up straight.
“Wait,” she said. “Please.”
“What?”
“I need to get my purse out of my car.”
Before he could stop her, she ran toward her Toyota. She knew she had to work fast or arouse Cody’s suspicions. The video camera lay on the passenger seat floorboard. She opened her purse and jammed the camera inside. Thank goodness the compact equipment fit. She covered her binoculars with her jacket, grabbed the textbook for her education class and moved toward Cody’s car with the items cradled in her arms.
“In case I can’t sleep tonight,” she told him when she’d climbed back inside, indicating the book.
Relief flooded her when Cody nodded and accelerated onto Granada Avenue. Thank goodness, he didn’t notice anything amiss.
After a moment she asked, “The murder has something to do with your investigation, doesn’t it?”
When he didn’t answer, Merlene swiveled to look at him. A muscle worked in the side of his jaw. He focused on the road, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.
So Cody wasn’t going to tell her what was going on.
That figured. She’d watched a murder practically happen under her nose, but from now on she’d be kept in the dark. Always that one-way street.
“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?” she demanded.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. Not yet.”
“Damn you,” she muttered. But she shifted in the seat and tamped down her frustration
. She wasn’t telling him everything, either. And Cody had been a big help on this terrible night, getting to her quicker than she could have imagined. Had she even thanked him?
Cody ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, I don’t know what’s going on yet.”
They remained silent for a few miles. Merlene broke the silence with, “Who’ll call Pat?”
“We have a protocol to follow in cases like this. Officers will break it to her as gently as possible.”
Yeah, right, she thought, remembering the cops who had broken it to her that her parents had been killed in a head-on collision. Streetlights flowed by Cody’s car in a blurred streak as she recalled the uniformed officers on her front step, sunglasses blocking their eyes so she couldn’t tell if they held any sympathy.
Both her mom and dad had been dead drunk, though, so probably hadn’t felt a thing. But she’d been fifteen years old, trying to take care of a twelve-year-old brother. She’d felt plenty. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. None of that was Cody’s fault.
“Turn here,” she instructed. “I’m the third house on the left. What time tomorrow?”
“How about noon? That way you can sleep late.”
“Thanks,” she said. “And thanks for coming tonight. I don’t know what I would have done if...” she trailed off. What would she have done?
“You’re welcome.” Cody placed his hand on the small of her back and walked her to the porch. He turned her to face him after she’d unlocked the door, his hands settling on her upper arms, his thumbs gently stroking.
“Are you sure you’re all right? You’ve been quiet.”
She nodded, raised her gaze to meet his and wished she hadn’t. His eyes searched hers, full of worry, full of kindness she didn’t know how to deal with. Not when her video camera hung heavy on her shoulder.
Warmth spread from his hands to her center. Damn if she wasn’t falling under his spell again.
“You should take a hot bath before going to bed,” he said.
“What?” Cody short-circuited her thought processes when he stood this close. Words never registered the way they should.
“A hot soak will help you relax. You need to get some sleep.”
She parted her lips, and his warm, soft mouth briefly touched hers before she could speak. He gathered her close, lightly smoothing her hair.
She allowed her purse to fall to the porch and clung to him, reaching for a source of strength in a crazy, brutal world. She’d remember the trouble he’d caused D.J. tomorrow, the trouble she’d caused him, but right now it felt good to be enfolded in his warmth, to feel safe and protected, to be comforted.
He lifted his head. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, meeting her gaze. “I could sleep on the couch.”
“What about the woman in your apartment?” The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them. Where had they come from? She hadn’t thought about that soft female voice since the phone call to Cody hours ago. From offhand comments during her interrogation at the Johnsons’ home, she knew Cody wasn’t married. But that didn’t change the fact that a woman waited for him at home while he’d offered to spend the night with her.
He frowned. “My sister is used to me working crazy hours.”
Merlene stepped out of his embrace, startled by her pleasure at learning the woman was his sister. Damn, but she was a wreck to even think about that.
“Thanks, Cody, but I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course. And thanks again for the ride home.”
“Okay. I’m beat, too. See you tomorrow.”
She nodded and grabbed her belongings from the ground. “Right. See you tomorrow.”
“Sweet dreams,” he murmured, pushing open the door for her, holding her gaze for another second.
She leaned against the door after she’d locked it and closed her eyes, wishing she’d asked him to stay. She didn’t want to be alone tonight.
The weight of the camera in her purse pulled at her conscience. How had everything gone so wrong so fast?
Her client’s husband was dead. Murdered while she had him under surveillance. What kind of an investigator was she? And until she produced the video to prove her innocence, no doubt she was the focus of the investigation, the police’s prime suspect. She’d have probably been arrested if Cody hadn’t vouched for her.
And she’d caused a bad situation for him, too, no doubt requiring him to make a lot of explanations to his department. By now he’d probably concluded she was nothing but trouble, and maybe he was right. Even so, he’d been kind to her tonight. Sweet, even gentle.
She needed to stay away from him. For his sake as well as her own.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, after her third cup of coffee, Merlene called D.J. to fill him in on the previous evening’s disastrous activities. She’d watched the video twice last night before going to bed and several times this morning. Then she’d made a copy and stashed it in a box under her bed.
“The recording is good,” she told her boss. “I’m sure the police can make an identification. I’ll give the camera with the original to Detective Warren later today.”
“Make sure you do that,” D.J. said. “Have you spoken to Mrs. Johnson yet?”
“That’s my next call. I’m not looking forward to that conversation.”
“Do you need a lift to get your car?”
“No. Cody said he’d—” Merlene hesitated. “Yes, I do. Thanks, D.J.”
The less she saw of Cody the better. Besides, if he walked her to her car, he might notice the camera wasn’t in the seat. He might wonder about that later when she produced her video, claiming she had forgotten. Cody was sharp, observant. He’d remember.
D.J. said, “I’ll be there in an hour. Call your client.”
Merlene replaced the receiver and immediately tried Cody’s cell number. She got voice mail and left the message that she didn’t need a ride back to the Johnsons’ home. She left a similar message with a clerk at his precinct.
She stared at the phone, knowing she should call Pat Johnson, but kept seeing her husband’s dead body sprawled across a white marble floor. Who would want to kill him? She believed Cody when he said he didn’t know any details. And he’d been wonderful last night. His kiss had been different from the first one. He’d been tender, soothing, as if he understood her uneasiness and wanted to reassure her, to give her some of his strength.
And she was withholding information from him.
She shook her head to clear tumbling thoughts. Wrong. She was useful to him, that’s all, and vulnerable because of the murder. Maybe Cody only pretended to be helpful when it suited him. Had he called off the regulators beating down D.J.’s door? Police had all the power, and they could do whatever they wanted with it.
Her mind flashed to the image of her brother’s battered body on a cold steel table in the morgue. As next of kin, it’d been her duty to identify Donny. She hadn’t wanted to, had been afraid to even go in the room. But there’d been no one else. She’d hoped and hoped and prayed the corpse wouldn’t be Donny, that a mistake had been made. But it was him.
Now her last memory of her little brother was him laid out on a death table with that terrified expression on his pale, young face.
She dared not forget Detective Cody Warren was a police officer. Problem was, the mere sound of his voice on a recording stirred a dangerous longing. She needed to crush that longing into oblivion. There was no chance anything could develop between them. They were too damn different.
Merlene grabbed the phone again and punched in Pat’s number in North Carolina.
* * *
“HOW’S YOUR CLIENT?” D.J. asked on the way to retrieve Merlene’s car.
“The
re was no answer at her number in North Carolina. I tried her cell, but that went to voice mail. She’s probably staying with friends who are protecting her.”
Merlene considered how Pat must be feeling...or maybe she’d been sedated into never-never land. Her client had been totally focused on catching her husband with a mistress, but she’d be grieving over a cold-blooded murder.
With a pang, Merlene remembered two young children who’d now grow up without a father.
“Bad business, this,” D.J. said. “I don’t like it. Maybe it’s time you started taking those teaching classes full time at Miami Dade College. At the rate you’re going, you won’t finish for another ten years. Your surveillance career was only supposed to be temporary.”
“I can’t afford full-time tuition.”
“The hell you can’t.” D.J. smothered a cough. “What about the settlement from your husband? Are you going to let it sit in the bank until your funeral?”
“There’s not much left after I bought my house. Just some emergency cash.”
And that cash was going to remain in the bank where it belonged, because she was never going to be dirt-poor again. Never. She wouldn’t, couldn’t allow herself to ever again have no food, no one to turn to, no money to pay the power bill. At least she didn’t have to worry about keeping the heat on in Florida too often, one of the reasons she’d been eager to move.
Some bitterly cold nights she and Donny had huddled together fully dressed under so many blankets they could barely move beneath all that weight. Even so, they could still feel the chill. Frigid weather never stopped Mom and Dad’s boozy parties, though. Hey, the party must go on...until inevitably her parents got into a loud fight, sometimes a violent one, which caused the police to show up at the front door making all sorts of threats.
D.J. didn’t realize how bad it had been. He’d been in Florida during the really bad years. Why tell him now? He had problems of his own.
D.J. snorted in disgust. “I swear, Merl, you’re the tightest person I ever knew. Your mother, bless her soul, used to say you’d hear her robbing your piggy bank all the way from school. You’d hit the door running when you got home to count how much was missing.”
To Trust a Cop Page 7