To Trust a Cop

by Sharon Hartley

  “Clues?” he repeated.

  She nodded, then looked up into his eyes and smiled.

  “Into my personality?” he asked.

  Amused gray eyes searched his. “Something like that.”

  He took her hand and led her back to the couch. “Okay. So you might be afraid of me, you don’t drink and you’re looking for clues. I’ve learned a lot about you tonight, Merl.” He hesitated. “It is okay if I call you Merl, isn’t it?”

  * * *

  “SURE.” MERLENE SQUEEZED her fingers in her lap wishing there were somewhere else in the room to sit. It was dangerous to be this close to Cody. She should go to bed and get away from him, but she didn’t want to be alone. His solid presence comforted her, made her feel safe. Wasn’t that why she’d agreed to stay here tonight?

  Besides, she also wanted to watch the late news.

  As long as he didn’t touch her, she’d be fine. When their flesh connected, a current arced between them, shocking her with its intensity. Did he feel it, too? She glanced at him, taking in his muscled shoulders, powerful arms and legs. God, but the man was gorgeous, impossible to resist. Addictive.

  Part of her wanted to curl up on his lap and kiss him until she was breathless, and part of her wanted to smack him.

  She scooted to the edge of the couch and again surveyed the barely furnished apartment.

  “Did you just move in?” she asked.

  “I’ve been here three years.”

  “Three years?” Merlene shook her head. “You must have been a monk in another life.”

  “I live simply.”

  At the harsh edge to his voice, she threw him a quick look. Man, was he touchy about money.

  “Listen, thanks for taking me in tonight,” she said. “I know you didn’t have to.”

  “You’re welcome.” He flicked on the television. “Time for your fifteen minutes of fame.”

  Johnson’s murder remained the lead story. Slender, blond-haired Vanessa Cooper stood before the Johnsons’ stately home, microphone in hand. In a serious voice she announced Channel Eight had learned exclusively that Merlene Saunders, a local private investigator, had recorded Dr. Johnson’s murderers coming and going from the residence, but that the police had so far made no arrests. A note of disapproval hung in her words. Her bright red lips curved into a knowing smile as she promised her listeners that Channel Eight was making every effort to obtain a copy of the video.

  When the broadcast moved on to other news, Cody clicked the set off and turned to her with a stubborn set to his jaw. “I’m going with you tomorrow.”

  Merlene stared into glacier-blue eyes. Going with her? Her heart hammered against her ribs at the idea of traveling anywhere with Cody. Staying with him tonight was risky enough. “To the Johnson ranch?”

  He nodded, looking in no mood for an argument, which scared her. Why so determined?

  “Why?” she asked.

  He ran a hand through his hair, then shrugged. “My lieutenant wants to know what’s at the ranch. It’s a whole new ball game with Johnson’s murder. We’ve got a lot of loose ends.”

  “I see.” But she didn’t see. Without a warrant, he couldn’t use anything he found at the ranch. It was ridiculous for Cody to go with her unless... Her mouth went dry. Most likely he wasn’t telling her everything. Was he using her? Maybe he didn’t trust her.

  “Should I be frightened?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer right away. Her shoulders tensed. Was he deciding on a lie? Perhaps he wanted her scared and vulnerable.

  No, that wasn’t fair. She was jumping to conclusions again. Old habits.

  “You should be...careful,” he said, emphasizing the last word.

  “So you do think I’m in danger?”

  He sighed. “Probably not, but I don’t want to take any chances. You’re my star witness, remember?”

  She swallowed hard. “Could I have that glass of water now?”

  Cody looked questioningly at her but rose. She heard the refrigerator door open, and he yelled, “I have orange juice, too.”

  “No. Water is fine. No. Make it juice.”

  Needing to think, she closed her eyes and slumped against the couch. Did she want Cody to go with her to Ocala? For protection from the Feldman brothers, you bet. But did she really need it?

  The truth was she felt almost as much of a threat from him. She already teetered on the brink of losing control around Cody, and they’d have to stay in a motel at least one night. Should she trust him? She certainly couldn’t trust herself. She’d lost control of her life ever since Cody Warren had shown up on her stakeout of Richard Johnson.

  She was hiding from reporters and possibly murderers. With everything going on she should be terrified, but had never felt more alive.

  She stood and accepted a plastic mug full of OJ when he returned. “So what time are we leaving in the morning, Detective?”

  Cody acknowledged his victory with a smile. A dangerous, cocky smile. “As soon as you wake up. We’ll grab some breakfast on the road.”

  “Sounds good.” How had this happened? She’d known this man less than a week and was about to go on a road trip with him.

  * * *

  AT ONE IN THE MORNING Cody gave up all hope of falling asleep. He’d listened from the couch while Merlene brushed her hair, washed her face, completed all the fascinating rituals women go through to prepare for bed. He’d rather have watched. He’d wanted to run his hands through her thick, silken hair while brushing it gently away from her face.

  Now he burned to climb into his cool, clean sheets and pull her against him until they were hot and sticky.

  Hoping she’d fallen asleep, he punched on the TV, keeping the volume low. Thank God for cable on sleepless nights.

  After a few moments Merlene poked her head into the room. Cody sat up, covering his briefs with a blanket.

  “Can’t sleep?” he asked.

  “Uh-uh.” She moved toward him, her gaze flickering over his bare chest. “Can I join you?” Her voice sounded unsure, as if she were doing something she shouldn’t.

  “Sure.”

  She tugged her T-shirt low over her thighs and sat beside him. “TV always puts me to sleep. I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

  He nodded. “Good. You need rest.” He pulled on his T-shirt, wanting to put her at ease. Then he shared his blanket with her, reaping the reward of her increasingly regular smiles as he spread the covering over her bare legs.

  “Thanks,” she murmured.

  At first she laughed self-consciously at the late-night talk-show host, only meeting Cody’s gaze on occasion. Once, when surprised by a joke, she touched him unexpectedly. Gradually she relaxed, her body sinking deeper and deeper into the cushions, closer and closer to his. Soon she yawned and her head dropped against his shoulder.

  When her breathing became regular, Cody switched off the TV and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply of her sweet warmth. He nuzzled his cheek against her dark, shining hair. God, it was soft. He could lose himself in her and never come up for air.

  But her safety was his responsibility. He’d gotten Merlene into this mess by asking her to record vehicles coming and going from Dr. Johnson’s. He knew she fought her attraction to him, tolerated him only for protection, pushed him away with bristling accusations that he’d tried to yank her P.I. license. He’d never get past her barriers.

  Besides, she wasn’t looking for romance, and surely not with a cop. He needed to remember that before his emotions got tangled up with unrealistic fantasies. Again, he wondered about her past, what had created her distrust. Had to be something. Maybe he’d learn some details tomorrow on the long drive north.

  And he needed to remember his boss suspected Merlene knew more than she admitted about the murder. Of course, L
ieutenant Montoya never trusted private detectives, but the man kept harping on the troubling point that she’d withheld the video for over twelve hours. Why had she done that? Could she really have forgotten?

  As Jake had said, Not f-ing likely.

  Cody positioned her comfortably on the couch, gently lifting her head to lay a pillow underneath. She smiled and murmured something when he covered her with one of his mother’s hand-sewn quilts.

  He went to his room and crawled between his sheets, her soft lingering fragrance filling his senses.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING they were on the road by nine. Cody pulled into a fast-food drive-through for breakfast and coffee at nine-fifteen.

  Last night she’d been too nervous to pay attention, but now Merlene decided the interior of a police cruiser had some interesting bells and whistles. Like a laptop perched on a pedestal convenient to the driver’s seat. The cover remained closed, however, and the police radio silent.

  So was Cody on the job or a pleasure trip?

  He didn’t say much for the first hour or so. They argued a bit about whether to take the Florida’s Turnpike, an expensive toll road, when she preferred to drive the interstate and save money. He’d also insisted on taking his vehicle, claiming hers could be recognized.

  She didn’t mind. This boat was tons more comfortable than her little bucket.

  She made a few stabs at conversation, but he seemed lost in thought. Probably about the case. Or maybe he wasn’t a morning person. Bored, she eventually opened a Florida map to plan their route.

  “What are you studying?” he asked.

  Merlene looked up, dizzy from trying to read while traveling sixty-five miles per hour—the speed limit, of course—on I-95.

  “I’m looking at the map,” she said, holding it up.

  “No. I mean the book at your house. You said you were studying yesterday and that’s why the phone was off.”

  “I’m taking education courses at Miami Dade College.”

  “You want to be a teacher?” Surprise dripped from his words.

  “I know it probably sounds dull to a cop who craves danger, but I like kids.” With a shrug she added, “And I’m beginning to think I’m not cut out for this surveillance gig.”

  Cody frowned and made a clucking noise. “I hate to see you give up on a promising singing career.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. The man sounded sincere when she knew he was teasing. Hard to imagine she’d reached a point in her life where she could tolerate a cop kidding her about music.

  She said, “Keep that up and I’ll sing for you as punishment.”

  He grinned at her. “Promise?”

  “No!” She shook her head. “Forget I said that.”

  “What do you want to teach?”

  She studied Cody as he drove, a bit unfair since he had to keep his eyes on the road. Why did he ask so many questions? Before long this man would know more about her than any other person on earth. Maybe he already did.

  Maybe the real question was her compulsion to answer, tell him about her past. Why did she want him to know who she really was? What did it matter?

  “I’m planning a class on how to thoroughly annoy the local police,” she said.

  He exhaled loudly, the sound closer to a snort. “You’re already well qualified to teach that course.”

  Merlene watched the flat Florida landscape zoom past the car. Cody didn’t know the half of it.

  They remained quiet a few miles and then he broke the silence again. “Why don’t you tell me about these past experiences of yours that have made you so cautious?”

  “Are you always so nosy?” she asked, hoping to sidetrack him onto another subject.

  “Hey, you look for clues your way, and I’ll do it mine.”

  He had her there. Last night she’d been blatant with her investigation of his apartment but hadn’t been able to stop herself. Not one photograph or personal item that didn’t scream utilitarian had been visible. No signs of female influence.

  She couldn’t figure out Cody Warren. He generated an aura of cold police professionalism, but she sensed an undercurrent of kindness and—what? Loneliness. She wanted to ask about his father but waited for the right time. If there ever could be a right time.

  “Come on,” he urged. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

  She sighed. “You don’t want to hear my hard-luck story.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

  Still she hesitated, unsure exactly how much to reveal.

  “Look, my childhood was...completely different from yours.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She looked at the road ahead. “Because your dad was a cop while my family had constant run-ins with the law. My parents drank,” she said, “a lot. And cops were always coming around threatening to take me and my little brother away. My mom and dad needed me to take care of them, so I had to play games, lie to the police so they’d leave us alone.”

  She glanced at him to gauge his reaction. His expression hadn’t changed.

  Hating that she was on the verge of tears, she sucked in a deep breath. How long would it take before she could speak of her family without crying? She didn’t want Cody to feel sorry for her, but if she told him the whole story...

  “Is that why you don’t drink?” His voice was kind, but sympathy only made her feel worse.

  She nodded, relieved he didn’t press for details, surprised that she’d been able to talk to Cody about her parents. How odd that she felt better for telling him. “I watched what booze did to my mom and swore it would never happen to me.”

  “You’re lucky. Most of the time kids of alcoholics end up drunks, too.”

  “I don’t feel lucky. I guess you had a picture-perfect childhood,” she said. “It’s probably hard to relate.”

  “I don’t know anyone who had a perfect childhood,” Cody said.

  “I guess not.” She relaxed into the seat, feeling strangely lighter than she had a few minutes ago. Cody didn’t judge. She liked that about him.

  “My dad was a strict disciplinarian. There were times I hated him.”

  “Yeah? I can’t even imagine having a cop for a father. I’ll bet that was tough.”

  “Tough,” he agreed. “But having a mother with a Western fetish was worse.”

  “Western fetish?”

  Cody nodded in such a solemn manner, Merlene couldn’t figure out if he was serious or joking.

  “I’m going to reveal a horrible family secret,” he announced.

  “What secret?” she asked, mystified by his tone.

  “Guess what my sister’s middle name is.”

  “Your sister’s middle name?” What gibberish was he spouting now?

  “Oakley,” he said.

  “Annie Oakley,” Merlene repeated. “Cute. So why aren’t you John Wayne or Roy Rogers?”

  “Mother wanted Wyatt Earp, but my father forbade it.”

  Merlene turned to face him, propping her elbow on the seat behind her.

  “So what is your middle name?”

  “Wyoming,” he said.

  “Cody Wyoming Warren.” She grinned. “Child abuse. No doubt about it.”

  He nodded. “I knew you’d understand.”

  “Your mom liked movies about the Old West?”

  “Loved them, and so do I. How about you?”

  “I never got to watch any.” She shrugged. “I should rent one. Maybe you can make a recommendation.”

  “No TV when you were growing up?” he asked.

  “Usually either broken or in the pawnshop.” She continued to study him. “Is your mom in Miami?”

  Cody switched to the left lane to pass
a slow-moving truck. “No. She moved to Sarasota with her sister.”

  “Oh. And where is your—” Merlene faltered midsentence at the thunderous look Cody threw her.

  And where is your dad? She could hardly bear not to ask. But something in the tense set of Cody’s jaw, the dangerous glint in hard blue eyes, made her hold her tongue. Thou shalt not go there.

  Merlene stiffened. No way was this detective getting away with prying nonstop into her background but then clamming up about his.

  She paused. Well, that wasn’t totally fair. He just wouldn’t talk about his father. He’d seemed rather proud of his eccentric mother. Great. Now she was even making excuses for him.

  Talking about her family made Merlene sad...shoot, it always made her cry. But today she’d discovered something odd. The more she talked about them, the easier the words came. Speaking of the past eased the heavy ache she’d carried around far too long. Maybe she ought to be grateful to Cody.

  “My mom’s dead,” Merlene said. “Killed in a car wreck along with my dad.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fifteen.”

  He muttered an oath, then shot her a quick glance. “I’m sorry, Merl. I don’t know what to—”

  “You could offer me your handkerchief, Detective.”

  “There’s tissues in the glove compartment.”

  “Thanks.” She found a tissue and blew her nose. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a long time. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  “Did you know your nose gets red when you cry?”

  She meant to laugh, but the noise that erupted sounded more like a hiccup.

  “God bless you,” Cody said.

  Merlene rolled her eyes. “You’re a big help in a crisis.”

  “Part of my training.” Cody shifted his eyes quickly to Merlene, then back to the road. “How about if we stop for lunch? This Vero Beach truck stop has great food.”

  She nodded. “I’d like to stretch my legs.”

  A blast of hot air and the smell of gasoline assaulted Merlene’s senses when she exited the air-conditioned comfort of Cody’s car. She rotated her left shoulder. Man, it did feel good to move.

  Looking reassuringly tall and confident in tan slacks and a navy blue knit shirt, Cody waited for her by the trunk of the car. She admired his strong body, noting how the glint of the sun on his brown hair brought out occasional streaks of blond. Other than the afternoon at the ball field, today was the first time she’d seen him in public without the ever-present tie.