To Trust a Cop

by Sharon Hartley

  As she moved toward him, she again wondered if he was on or off duty. He considered that stuffy neckpiece part of his no-interfering-with-procedure uniform—even in Miami’s heat. Yeah, for sure this was a cop who played it strictly by the book.

  She lost her breath when his strong arms encircled her and gathered her close.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I’M SORRY ABOUT your parents.”

  Cody kissed her hair, drawing its lemon scent deep into his lungs. She could push him away if she wanted, but he would hold her close for this one moment. She’d been through so much. He longed to comfort her. Hell, he wanted to protect her from more hurt. That was his job, right? To protect and to serve.

  And for a moment she relaxed, seductively soft, feminine and warm. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Really. Talking about it helps.”

  She stepped away, looking up to meet his gaze with dove-gray eyes that had again turned wary.

  Nervous little bird, Cody thought. Afraid to trust anyone. He wondered what had happened to her after she lost her parents, guessing a series of foster homes. He could easily imagine the hellish conditions she’d endured. He’d seen it often enough during his years on the job. She’d have been better off if those cops she despised had removed her from a rotten home. But of course a child would never understand that.

  He gave her shoulders a light squeeze. Likely there was a hell of a lot more to her story, but now was not the time, not when she was fighting tears again. “I’m glad you told me.”

  “I don’t know why I did.” She smiled, and its warmth felt as if the sun had come out after a week’s rain. “Must be because of that crackerjack training you’re so proud of.”

  Wearing an uncertain expression, she bit her lip. He knew Merlene wanted to lighten the mood with her teasing, move on to less personal subjects. For now he’d let her off the hook.

  Tucking her arm into his, he moved them toward the restaurant. “Oh, I’m trained in any number of things,” he said. “Picking places to eat is one of my specialties.”

  How could anyone dig through the many defensive layers of Merlene Saunders? If he wanted to win her trust, he would have to peel each one away bit by bit to uncover what lay underneath. And earning her trust had become important to him. He wanted her to know not all cops were bad news.

  * * *

  “I’LL SAY ONE thing for you, Merlene—you certainly have a healthy appetite.” Cody had watched in awe while she put away a cheeseburger and a huge order of fries smothered with ketchup.

  She looked up from a half-eaten piece of chocolate cake and frowned. “Are you criticizing my eating habits again?”

  He held up his hand. “I know better than that. But you’re such a little thing, I’m wondering where you put it all.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m not little.”

  He didn’t immediately reply. He had to admit that there were some delightful parts of Merlene that were definitely not small, but it was probably best that he didn’t dwell on those particular images.

  “How much do you weigh?” he asked.

  She dropped her fork, and it hit the plate with an audible clatter. “Where I come from, it’s not considered polite to ask.”

  “Why? Is it confidential?”

  “It’s like asking a woman how old she is.”

  He shrugged. “I already know how old you are. Twenty-five.”

  “How do you know that?” Stormy eyes narrowed in a familiar, suspicious manner. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot you ran a check on me.”

  “Relax, Merlene. Your date of birth is on your vehicle registration.”

  He reached for the check, watching as her tongue licked a trace of chocolate frosting from her upper lip. She scooped the last bit of fudge cake onto her fork and raised her gaze to his, offering him the bite.

  “Last chance,” she said.

  Cody refused, preferring the pleasure of watching her enjoyment.

  She set the fork down and collapsed into the booth with a satisfied sigh. Nodding at the check, she said, “How much?”

  “I’ll get it.”

  Merlene shook her head. “I’m on an expense account. I’ll pay my half.”

  “I thought you wanted to save money.”

  “But of course I’ll pay my share,” Merlene said as she pulled a leather wallet out of her purse. “This isn’t a date. The only reason I let you come along is because you convinced me I was in danger.”

  “You sure that’s the only reason?”

  Merlene looked up from counting out bills.

  “Would it be so hard to let me buy you lunch?” he asked.

  “Yes.” There was that flicker in her eyes again. “I need receipts to prove to my client I made this trip.”

  “I’ll give you the damned receipt.” He wasn’t sure why, but her refusal irritated him. She kept pushing him away. Maybe this wasn’t a date, but he was a man; she was a woman. “Hell, you can even charge Pat Johnson for the whole amount. That’s what most P.I.s would do.”

  Merlene’s back went ramrod stiff. “So now I’m a big bad mama who pads her bills?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Not in so many words, no. Cops always look down their noses at me and my profession.”

  “I don’t understand why you even work considering the pile of cash your ex dropped on you after your divorce.”

  His anger dissolved as Merlene’s face closed off to him. Just great, Cody.

  “You looked up my divorce file?” she asked, her voice tight and defiant.

  “Of course,” he said. “It’s my job to uncover as much information as possible.”

  “You needed information about my divorce?”

  He nodded. “I needed to know who you were. Fast.”

  “And you think you know who I am now?” she asked in a hoarse voice. Before he could answer, she rose. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

  * * *

  BACK IN THE car, a delicious lunch expanded into a lump of nausea in Merlene’s stomach.

  Worse, a shattering sense of intrusion knocked her off center. Amazing how Cody could just push a few buttons and find out anything he wanted, as if her life weren’t her own. She hated the powerless feeling his authority gave her. What else had he looked at? Was there any part of her life that was safe from the eager eyes of the police?

  Thirty minutes outside of Ocala she stared at graceful oaks, branches dripping with lacy moss, and brooded over Cody’s accusations. Finally, tired of the charged silence, she turned from the scenery and confronted him as he drove.

  “I’m not rich.”

  “You’re wealthy by my standards.”

  “Rich is never having to worry about money.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t worry about money.”

  “Good for you,” she muttered. Why did he always deliberately miss the point? “Look, I used that divorce settlement to buy a house and a car. What was left wouldn’t support me for long.”

  “What happened to the Lexus?”

  “How do you know...” she groaned, and rubbed her throbbing forehead. “Did you read every clause in that damned divorce decree?”

  “Fascinating reading.”

  “But it didn’t have a thing to do with your case, Detective Warren.”

  “Just digging for clues, Merl,” he said.

  She sucked in her breath at the soft, intimate tone of his voice. She felt dangerously exposed to Cody and again wondered what else he knew about her. How far back had he dug? Not that she had any deep, dark secrets. She’d never even been arrested. But still. A person should have a right to privacy.

  After a moment he spoke again. “Listen, I’m sorry. But my lieutenant gave me orders to find out everything I could about you.
You had to know we’d check you out.” She felt his gaze rake over her. “This whole case is about money and fraud. We needed to understand where you fit in. What if Sean Feldman had been your lawyer?”

  Merlene nodded when Cody finished, concentrating on the ribbon of asphalt straight ahead. He was right. She should have known. She could never forget who he was. Not even for a minute. Cody was a cop all day and all night—her worst nightmare. But that legal garbage he’d pried into revealed nothing about the circumstances of her marriage or divorce.

  And why did she feel the need to explain herself to him?

  “Have you ever been hungry, Cody? I mean, really hungry when there wasn’t any food in the house or even a buck for a burger at McDonald’s when you were too young and helpless to do anything about it?”

  “No,” he said, his voice barely audible over the rush of the road beneath the tires.

  “That basically describes my childhood. So when my divorce was final and I was on my own, I sold that overpriced Lexus, bought a used car and stashed the difference in the bank.”

  She shrugged when he didn’t respond. “Besides, the Lexus was red, too flashy for surveillance. I needed a lower profile.”

  “Well, thanks to Vanessa Cooper, you no longer have a low profile,” he said.

  She felt his gaze sweep over her again but didn’t answer. She’d be damned if she’d offer Cody Warren any more explanations. He thought he had her completely figured out, so anything she said would be a waste of time.

  Why the hell had she let him come with her?

  Her mind drifted to the night she and Donny had been caught Dumpster diving behind the local supermarket. She’d been rummaging for edible food inside in the huge metal container—or at least it seemed huge to a scrawny ten-year-old girl—when blue lights began flashing on the wall behind her. Donny scampered into hiding, but she had to stay where she was. When down in the bin she always held her breath, but had no choice except to breathe the disgusting stench because the cops hung around so long.

  Even today the sight of a full Dumpster could make her nauseous. Lord help her if she got close enough to smell the odor.

  She didn’t speak again until the turnoff for the ranch. Cody exited, pulled into the first gas station and cut the engine.

  He shifted in the seat to face her. “How about a truce?”

  She shot him a questioning glance. Distant blue eyes regarded her carefully.

  “Your financial arrangements are none of my business. From now on I’ll keep my mouth zipped on the subject.”

  She didn’t trust him to keep his word, but they were 300 miles from Miami and life would go much smoother if they were at least civil to each other.

  “Okay,” she said. “Truce.”

  “Okay.” He nodded toward the convenience store inside the gas station. “Do you want anything?”

  She opened her door. “I’ll get it,” she said.

  Cody watched her walk away, wishing he’d never mentioned her divorce settlement or the Lexus. Her story tugged at his heart. Considering her background, how could she help but think she never had enough.

  After hearing about her childhood, he’d figured out she equated money with security. Security was what she craved, and cops surely didn’t offer a woman that. Not when they took the chance of catching a bullet every day.

  He wanted to trust Merlene, needed to believe that she was basically honest. So far she’d been straight with him. Or had she? Money could be a powerful motivator.

  He considered Lieutenant Montoya’s last words to him. “I want you to stay close to Merlene Saunders, Warren. Keep an eye on her. Remember, she had a key to Johnson’s house.”

  * * *

  “DID YOU SAY turn east on State Road Seventeen?” Cody asked Merlene when they got closer to their destination.

  She glanced up from the map. “Right, Seventeen. The ranch is east of town, close to the Ocala National Forest.”

  Cody decided she sounded civil. Maybe she hadn’t forgiven him, but at least she was speaking to him again.

  Acres of green rolling hills lined with white picket fences had flowed past the car since they’d left the interstate. The lay of the land was definitely rural and the pace peaceful. Merlene rarely spoke, but the nervous crease between her eyes had smoothed out.

  The fragile bond between them had evaporated with his harsh words. How had he let her goad him into angry accusations—suppositions, really? He now understood how much she distrusted the police and he’d practically rubbed her nose in his investigation.

  But maybe better to keep each other at arm’s length. The more time he spent with Merlene, the more he ached to learn everything about her.

  “Make a left on this county road,” she said. “The turnoff is about a mile south.”

  A white wooden gate stood ajar at the entrance to the Johnson property.

  “That doesn’t look right,” Merlene said.

  Cody exited the car and examined a busted lock, deducing one hard blow could easily have done the deed.

  Dropping the lock, he glanced down the long, unpaved entrance to the ranch, a path bordered on both sides by fenced pasture. Maybe three-quarters of a mile ahead, the top of a red roof peeked from a stand of giant oaks.

  When he slid behind the wheel, he asked, “Did your client mention anyone else being here?”

  “No one is supposed to be here,” Merlene said. “Pat was clear about that.”

  Her eyes met his with a question and an unmistakable spark of excitement. She raised her eyebrows.

  “Is there another way in?” he asked.

  “Maybe.” She consulted the map. “There’s an unpaved back entrance through pasture land. It’ll take us a while to find it.”

  An uneasy feeling squirmed in his gut again, that tickle of disquiet that seldom failed him. Sure, Johnson could have forgotten his key and broken the lock himself last week...another harmless coincidence?

  He considered continuing to the ranch on foot, taking whoever preceded them by surprise. No. That would cut off a quick escape. He glanced at Merlene and found her watching him with a worrisome anticipation.

  “Who do you think it is?” Her eyes widened. “Do you think it’s Neville Feldman? Or maybe the other man in the car the night Dr. Johnson was murdered? What’s his name? Ray Price?”

  “I don’t think it’s anyone,” Cody said, deliberately keeping his voice calm. “I just don’t like surprises. We’ll go in slow. Pay attention and keep your head low.”

  “It could be Neville, you know.” She took a deep breath. “If he was really in cahoots with Dr. Johnson like you think, he might be up here looking for evidence that would convict him. Remember, Johnson was here just before his murder.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions, Merl.”

  But her words echoed his own thoughts, thoughts that pumped a quick rush of adrenaline into his bloodstream. Lieutenant Montoya had insisted Neville would travel north, and Montoya was seldom wrong.

  Cody navigated the dirt road, making as little disturbance as possible, silently thankful for recent rain and mud that helped muffle the noise of the tires. He didn’t want Neville or anyone else at the ranch house to know about visitors any sooner than necessary.

  “Get your phone ready,” he said. “Be ready to dial 911 and report the exact address.”

  Merlene withdrew a small leather pouch from her purse. A high-pitched tone sounded when she turned on her phone.

  “So you do think something is going on at the ranch.” She punched in the three numbers but waited to send the signal.

  “Just being cautious,” he said, his gaze fixed to the road.

  When a one-story brick house came into view beneath the trees, he focused on a blue Jeep parked next to a closed white garage door and made a mental note of t
he license plate.

  He eased his foot off the gas. The car rolled to a stop in the mud inches from the concrete driveway. A screen door slammed, and a tall white male rounded the rear of the house.

  Hair stood up on the back of his neck.

  Merlene uttered a muffled curse and said, “It’s him!”

  Neville Feldman.

  Feldman reacted the same instant Merlene hit the send button on her cell phone. “Stay down,” Cody ordered. Merlene released her seat belt and slid low. He drew his Glock, opened the door and crouched behind it.

  “Hold it right there, Feldman!”

  A volley of shots thudded into the mud near the front of the car. One slammed into the hood.

  Merlene screamed.

  Cody returned fire, but Neville vaulted into his vehicle and roared off on a rut-filled road behind the house. Cody leaped into his car to follow.

  “Officer needs assistance,” Merlene shouted into the phone. Hunched below the dash, her body lurched from side to side as Cody bumped over the rough terrain after Feldman. She thought about resnapping the seat belt, but the strap wouldn’t reach.

  The operator transferred her to a police dispatcher, who requested the direction they were traveling.

  She peeked over the top of the dash to figure that out.

  Cody placed his hand on her head and pushed. “Stay down.” He grabbed the phone, gave his ID and summarized the situation. One hand kept their swerving vehicle on the narrow path.

  While he talked, Merlene placed her hands on the dash and raised her head to peek out again. They raced after the Jeep on an unpaved back road closely lined on both sides by wooden fences.

  So this was a high-speed police chase.

  Not that she would go so far as to call it high-speed. The mud-filled ruts in the road kept either vehicle from gaining too much speed. Still, a green blur of vegetation flew by at a frightening rate. Sturdy-looking fences loomed way too close. Her mouth tasted dry as dust.