To Trust a Cop

by Sharon Hartley

  “Can you cover everything in the field without me? What about that workers’ comp fraud case for Sunshine Insurance?” She heard a burst of laughter from the TV. “I don’t think the cops will let me out of here to run the surveillance.”

  “I can handle it,” D.J. said. “Oh, Pat Johnson called this morning, and I filled her in. When I told her about her visitor at the ranch, she went a little nuts. She’s decided to stay away from Ocala for now.”

  “I’m sorry about all this, D.J. I’ll give her a call later.”

  “She’s at the house in the Gables now tying up loose ends.”

  “Are the kids with her?” Merlene asked, thinking about her last conversation with Pat.

  “She said she left them with friends in the mountains. Is she always so edgy?”

  “Pat’s been through a lot. She’s probably worried sick about her children.”

  “True.” After another coughing fit, his breath ragged, D.J. said, “Tell you the truth, Merl, I’ll be glad when you get out of there.”

  “They can’t force me to remain. Do you want me to—”

  “No. You hang tight. Do what the police tell you.”

  She hung up and left her hand on the receiver, worried about D.J.’s lungs, until the phone rang against her palm.

  She stepped away. “Should I answer that?” she called to Officer Newcomb.

  “No, ma’am. That’s for me. I’ll get it.”

  Newcomb hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the receiver. “Yeah,” he said, waving her away with a smile.

  Police business, she decided, and moved to take the cop’s place in front of the TV, where a loud, incredibly obnoxious talk show blared. The host blathered something about women who date their sons’ friends. How was it possible the police could find so many ways to make her life miserable?

  As she flopped on the couch, her gaze fell on a pack of cards half hidden beneath a sports magazine on the coffee table. Well, well. This looked promising.

  * * *

  “SHUT THE DOOR, CODY.”

  Cody entered Lieutenant Montoya’s office and closed the door behind him. Looking grimmer than usual, Montoya sat behind his desk, unwrapping a thick cigar. Cody shot a glance at Jake, and his partner shrugged.

  “What’s going on?” Cody asked.

  “Forensics don’t match the Saunders woman’s story,” Montoya began. “I know you trust her, but the medical examiner doesn’t believe that the gunshot wounds were from the Glock in the video.”

  “The recording doesn’t clearly show if Price was carrying another weapon, so that could explain it,” Jake said. “But we didn’t find a gun in his apartment.”

  “He would have ditched a murder weapon,” Cody said.

  “Don’t you find it suspicious that Mrs. Saunders didn’t report the existence of the surveillance until the next day?” Montoya asked. “Maybe she needed the time to doctor it. The lab is checking on that now.”

  “There’s more,” Jake said.

  Cody straddled a chair beside his partner, not sure he wanted to hear the rest.

  “Neville Feldman’s been in touch with his brother Sean again,” Jake continued. “Neville is on the run and desperate, but insists the doctor was dead when he and Price arrived. He swears they heard shots before entering and that Pat Johnson had requested him to show for the meeting. He expected to meet with her that night.”

  “Pat Johnson?” Cody repeated.

  “Mrs. Saunders’s client,” Montoya said with slow emphasis.

  Cody shook his head. “But she was in North Carolina the night of her husband’s murder.”

  “So she says.” Montoya pointed the unlit cigar at Jake. “We’re confirming that.”

  “We’ve requested phone records and are checking airline reservations,” Jake said. “Remember, we couldn’t reach Mrs. Johnson to notify her of the death until the following day.”

  “Mrs. Johnson increased her husband’s life insurance policy by two million dollars a few months ago,” Montoya said. “Maybe she decided to make bilking insurance companies a family business.”

  “We’ll know more soon,” Jake promised.

  “So maybe your pain-in-the-ass private eye was hired by her client to frame someone else for the death of her husband.” Montoya leaned back in his chair. “Clever, huh? While Saunders records Feldman arriving, Mrs. Johnson is inside pulling the trigger.”

  “If it’s true, the big question is whether Merlene knew about her client’s plan or not,” Jake said.

  “Search her home carefully this afternoon, Warren,” Montoya ordered.

  “Do we have a warrant?” Cody asked.

  “Not yet. But her delay in turning over the video gives us probable cause if we need to obtain one. And don’t tell her about our suspicions.”

  “She might run,” Jake said.

  “Just like a scared little rabbit,” Montoya added. “I like knowing where she is.”

  * * *

  CODY PUSHED OPEN Merlene’s front door, at war with a guilty conscience.

  All too clearly, he remembered her stunned face in the diner when he’d mentioned his investigation into her background. He’d promised himself he’d only gather what she needed and not pry into her private life.

  But forensic evidence, along with her delay in turning over the video, had now torpedoed that promise. Damn. Could Merlene be trying to frame Neville Feldman in a conspiracy with Pat Johnson? His original investigation had never turned up a hint of Pat’s involvement in her husband’s criminal activities.

  Would Merlene succumb to the lure of a healthy percentage of Pat’s life insurance proceeds? No question she craved the security cold cash could provide. But that didn’t mean she would act as an accomplice to murder, did it?

  No, he didn’t believe she had that in her.

  After his meeting with Montoya, Cody had reviewed the surveillance video four times and found no discrepancy, no unexpected jump in a frame or other clue that the recording had been altered. Okay. So was it realistic that she forgot about the surveillance? Well, why not?

  She’d been terrified. And hadn’t he forgotten to ask about one?

  Sure, Montoya had good instincts. That’s how he got to be a commanding officer. But his lieutenant hadn’t been at the murder scene with Merl. Cody would bet his badge that Merlene had been genuinely frightened by the gunshots she’d heard.

  But she was now an official suspect. And now he had to search her home.

  It was his job, of course. Oh, he damn well knew his job. He hadn’t cut a corner or bent a rule since his rookie year, when he couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone silently watched, waiting for him to turn crooked like his old man.

  No, he hadn’t bent a rule until he met Merlene. For some reason she had changed everything, even the way he felt about being a cop. He pictured her face, her stunning smile. He’d never experienced this tug, this constant pull toward a woman before, wanting to spend as much time with her as he could. He didn’t want to unravel the flimsy threads they’d barely begun to weave together.

  If he found incriminating evidence, he’d have to report it to Montoya, obtain a warrant and return with a full team to search. She would know what occurred, that he’d been the one to bring her down. She’d hate him forever.

  His career had forced him to do a lot of hard things, but that would be the hardest by far.

  He shut the door behind him and quickly scanned the front room. Just as he remembered it. Cluttered, warm, pleasant. Stamps of her unique personality—a framed poster of Blake Shelton, well-used video camera, the bag containing her wigs, a quilt in disarray on the couch—registered quickly with Cody.

  He felt her presence and doubted he’d find anything suspicious. Merl was smart. Would she have given him a key if there
were anything in her home to be found?

  A gilt-framed photograph he hadn’t noticed before faced him from a table beside the sofa. Cody picked it up and examined the brooding face of a young male teenager. Merlene’s brother. The resemblance between this boy and Merlene struck Cody like a physical blow. Donny was hard where Merlene was soft, but they could have been twins.

  Merlene had trusted him when she’d confided in him about her brother. No way would he repay that gift by searching her home. If they were going to bridge the huge gap between them, they had to start somewhere. He’d start right here, right now.

  There was an explanation for the discrepancies in forensics; he just needed to find the reasons. He refused to believe she was lying to him. He was a cop. He’d made it his livelihood to read people, to notice when they weren’t telling the truth. She’d displayed none of the usual tells.

  Trusting her, trusting himself that he read her right, put his job on the line. He knew that. If he was wrong, if she turned out to be dirty despite all his instincts...yeah, it could mean his badge.

  He was willing to take that chance. Merl was worth the risk. And maybe he should change professions if a beautiful woman could dupe him so completely.

  He placed the photograph and her heavy textbook by the front door. What else should he take for her? He headed purposefully toward her bedroom but halted when confronted with a queen-size bed covered by a pale blue quilted spread. Turning away, he refused to fall victim to imagining her naked body beneath her cool sheets, hot to the touch, dark hair spilling over soft blue...

  Willing away the images, he jerked open a dresser drawer. Black silk stared him in the face. The fresh, warm fragrance of Merlene washed over him. He swallowed. Well, good. He’d found her lingerie.

  Selecting several pairs of panties, he tried not to notice their softness, tried not to think of the slinky fabric caressing her supple hips.

  Moving faster now, with more resolve, he opened more drawers and found cotton shorts. In her closet he grabbed blouses, careful not to wrinkle them.

  What else? She could be stuck at the safe house for days. He hoped not, but it could happen. What would a woman want?

  * * *

  “GIN,” MERLENE ANNOUNCED, displaying her cards to Officer Newcomb on the couch beside her.

  “Damn,” Officer Johnny Newcomb muttered, throwing his cards on the table in disgust.

  She grinned at him, adding points to her winning tally. “Are you sure you don’t play poker?”

  “Not with you, ma’am. You’d clean me out.”

  Dealing another hand, she said, “Oh, you never know.”

  She didn’t mind playing cards with Officer Newcomb. In fact, Johnny was kind of nice. D.J. called him a dinosaur, a cop who’d been on the force a long, long time. She and her guard had hit it off over pepperoni pizza when she’d suggested they play rummy. It helped pass the time for them both.

  She glanced at the digital clock on the wall. Almost nine. When would Cody show up? She fanned her cards before her face, telling herself she only wanted the promised clean clothes so she could take a shower before bed. It’d been a long afternoon.

  “How late are you on duty, Johnny?”

  “My shift ends at ten, but there’ll—” the officer rearranged the cards in his hand “—there’ll be someone else here at that time. Don’t you worry.”

  “I’m not worried,” she said, as two knocks sounded on the front door. Merlene looked up, then felt herself smile as Cody entered. Her heart thudded at the smile he offered in return.

  “Evening,” he said.

  “Evening, Cody,” Johnny replied.

  She blinked at the goodies in the cardboard box Cody placed beside her. Clean clothes, several books...oh, her favorite terry-cloth robe. Two days of mail. She pulled out Donny’s photo.

  “I watered the plants and checked the windows and doors,” Cody told her. “Why don’t you go on home, Johnny. I’ll wait here for the night shift.”

  Johnny threw down his cards. “You don’t have to ask me twice, Detective. I’ve got an impatient wife waiting. See you tomorrow, Merlene.”

  “Good night, Johnny.”

  After her guard had left, Cody stood by the couch, oddly hesitant, watching her. “Sorry to break up your card game.”

  “That’s okay.” Merlene grinned. “Poor guy can’t play well. I’m hoping his replacement is better.”

  “Everything okay here?”

  “Still no Jacuzzi.”

  He shook his head and sat beside her. “You’re something else, lady.”

  “Thanks for all this,” she said, indicating the personal items he’d brought.

  “You’re welcome.”

  He didn’t smile. Curious about his strange mood, she watched him struggle for his next words. Clearly something ate at him.

  “Any news on the case?” she asked.

  “Feldman robbed a liquor store near Tallahassee.”

  She sucked in a breath. “That’s a long way from South Florida. Why can’t I go home?”

  “He shot the clerk for not moving fast enough.”

  “Oh, my God. Is the clerk okay?”

  “Should pull through. Merl, you’re here for your own safety. Believe me, I’d rather you were home and Feldman in jail.”

  “So what’s wrong?”

  “How well do you know Pat Johnson?”

  She noted the deliberately neutral tone of his voice, like he was hiding something. Why was he asking about Pat?

  “During my marriage, I would see her occasionally at medical association functions. We weren’t exactly friends. I was a lot younger, but some of my best clients have come from women I knew during that period in my life.” Hugging the soft robe to her, Merlene considered the irony of how other doctors’ wives had once snubbed her because of her backwoods accent and country manners but then hired her when they needed help in divorce court. Life was indeed strange sometimes.

  “Did you know she increased the life insurance policy on her husband a few months ago?”

  “Of course not.” Startled, Merlene met Cody’s gaze. “Why?”

  “I’m tying up loose ends,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve heard about police paperwork.”

  “Uh-huh,” she murmured, not convinced by his lame excuse. Something else was going on. She thought about Cody combing through her closets and drawers and needed to know how intrusive he’d been.

  “Did you find anything interesting when you searched my home?”

  His expression didn’t change. “I didn’t look for anything but what you’d need here.”

  Plucking at a loose thread on the robe, she said, “That’s hard to believe, Detective.”

  He placed his hand over hers. “Maybe, but I want you to believe me.” After a pause, he said, “I want you to trust me. You know you can tell me anything.”

  She wanted to trust him, but she hadn’t believed in anyone in a long, long time and wasn’t sure if she could start now. Maybe it was too late, remembering he had looked at her divorce file.

  As she smoothed her fingers over the familiar fabric, she felt the intensity of his gaze. Heat from his body, so close to hers, warmed the air between them.

  She looked up to meet probing blue eyes. “Do you trust me?”

  His gaze penetrated hers as if trying to see straight through to her soul. “I’m trying, Merl. You make it damn hard, but I’m trying.”

  “Then tell me about your father.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CAUGHT OFF GUARD by the unexpected question, Cody sucked in a quick breath. “My father?”

  She nodded, gazing at him expectantly, obviously waiting for an answer.

  He stared back at her. Where had this come from? What did she know about his father
? Once again Merlene had changed the subject. This time to a topic he always tried to avoid, although of course she couldn’t know that.

  “What about my father?” he finally asked.

  “Johnny, my guard, knew him. Why won’t you ever talk about him?”

  Cody released a breath. “Well, for one thing, he’s dead.”

  “Oh.” Her gray eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Forget it,” he said, certain she wouldn’t. He never mentioned his father because he hated revisiting that miserable story. Why was Merlene probing with these questions now?

  Delicate brows drawn together, she asked, “So why would Johnny act as if your dad was such a big mystery?”

  “Nobody talks about him.”

  “Nobody?”

  “Not around me, anyway.”

  “But why? You know, trust works both ways, Cody.” Her voice softened. “I’ve told you all my ugly secrets.”

  He turned her hand and traced the lines in her palm. Had she really told him all her secrets? Or were there little details she’d omitted? Yeah, trust worked both ways, like a double-edged sword.

  Then he remembered her broken voice, her hot tears as she told him about her brother, her obvious love for Donny, despite all his problems. If anyone would understand about his father, it would be Merl.

  Why not trust her with the truth? With that thought he suddenly wanted her to know about his dad, about the shame he’d been carrying for so long. He wanted to share his dirty secret with her, knowing it would increase their intimacy, the connection growing between them.

  “My dad was precisely the kind of cop you despise—greedy and crooked. When he got nailed on the take, he couldn’t face the disgrace so he picked up a forty-five and blew his brains out. My mother found him minutes before my sister came home.”

  Cody closed his eyes when Merlene placed her arms around his neck. Soft and sweet, she hugged him tightly, surprising him with her strength and the comfort she freely offered. Amazing how the story could still hurt after all this time.

  “I am so sorry,” she murmured.

  Cody wrapped his arms around her, accepting her sympathy and pushing away the notion that Merl might have similar traits to his old man when it came to money, rejecting that thought as unfair.