To Trust a Cop

by Sharon Hartley

  She hurried through damp grass that moistened the bottom of her jeans, intending to phone a cab at the first major intersection. She’d spend the night at D.J.’s and talk him into accepting her help to pay for the new treatment. She couldn’t lose D.J. He was all she had left.

  What looked like an unmarked cop car sat at the far end of the block, but she hugged the edge of the property, remaining out of sight. She told herself she wasn’t doing anything wrong, that she wasn’t under arrest. Cody had told her she could leave. Yeah, he would be pissed, but what did that matter? He was done with her. He’d made that pretty clear.

  And when had playing by the rules ever done her any good anyway?

  * * *

  CODY DRUMMED HIS FINGERS on the desk, glaring at his cell phone, willing the damn thing to ring. Across from him, sitting at his own desk, his partner pretended to be working on overdue paperwork. Jake’s cell phone also lay close at hand, right beside the computer keyboard.

  They were waiting to hear from Duval County, to receive word that Neville Feldman had been apprehended. The call could come to his cell, Jake’s, the department’s line... Who knew which?

  The desk phone rang, and Jake snatched up the receiver. “Steadman.” He paused. “Oh, hi.”

  Catching Cody’s gaze, Jake shook his head. Cody relaxed. Not Duval.

  “Slow down, Annie,” Jake said. “Okay, okay. He’s right here.”

  Acting as if the phone burned his fingers, Jake punched the hold button and set the receiver back on the cradle.

  “Better pick up,” he said. “It’s your sister, and she’s got a mad on.”

  Cody held the receiver to his ear. “Annie, I can’t talk right now. We’re—”

  “What exactly did you say to Merlene? And when did you become so judgmental?”

  Wincing at his sister’s furious voice, Cody leaned back, the squad room chair squeaking as if also displeased with his behavior. He knew he shouldn’t have taken Annie’s call. His partner couldn’t get rid of the phone fast enough.

  “Annie, I don’t even know where the hell Merlene is. She left the safe house.” No way could he tell Annie the department suspected Merlene was involved in murder. What would his sister say to that stunning news?

  “I know where she is,” Annie said. “She’s out doing her job today.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “She called me. And she told me she left you a message.”

  Cody didn’t answer. True, Merl had left him a cryptic voice mail about some surveillance job and telling him not to worry. As if he wouldn’t worry.

  “She’s hurt that you deserted her.”

  He sighed. “I haven’t deserted her. I saw her yesterday afternoon.” But he had left rather abruptly.

  He looked up when the second line buzzed. “I’ve got to go. We’re waiting to find out if Duval County’s got Feldman in custody.”

  Jake had already grabbed the phone. Within a few moments he grinned and gave Cody the thumbs-up. “They’ve got him!” Jake yelled.

  Cody loosened his tie and relaxed into his seat to allow the welcome news to sink in. Man, he would have loved to snap cuffs around Feldman’s dirty wrists, but no biggie. As long as this perp was behind bars, it didn’t matter who did the honors. He took a deep breath of satisfaction, looking forward to the interrogation. Half the job was done.

  He could quit worrying about Feldman finding Merlene.

  His sense of well-being evaporated. With the danger over, what would happen to the delicate thread between them? Would she lose all interest in a cop who gave away half his salary?

  And damn her for leaving the safe house. Why did she do it? Did she really think he’d deserted her?

  Maybe. He had to admit, just maybe.

  He swiveled in his chair to watch Jake deliver the good news to their boss.

  Annie was right. He’d acted like an overbearing jackass. Life had knocked Merlene on her pretty little rear over and over and then kicked her when she tried to get up. Damn, she’d been a kid, searching for the only way out of a miserable existence when she got married. She’d grown up since then.

  Right, she wasn’t a kid anymore. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, feeling grit from lack of sleep. Did the fact that she’d withheld the video and fled the safe house mean something ominous? If Merl could marry for money, did that mean that she would kill for it?

  No way. He rejected doubts that had played with his mind for days. No matter how bad circumstances looked, Merlene was no murderess. If she’d called Annie, maybe she’d still speak to him. He had to talk to her, figure out what was going on, find a way to clear her.

  Montoya pointed a fat, unlit cigar at Cody. “Find Mrs. Saunders, Warren. She’s your responsibility.”

  * * *

  MERLENE UNLOCKED HER front door and entered a house that stank of hot, stale air. She checked her home quickly, looking for signs of disturbance, but nothing appeared out of place. Not even a sign that Cody had been here, other than the missing photo of Donny. She took the frame out of her purse and placed it back where it belonged.

  So maybe Cody hadn’t searched her home.

  The phone rang, but she ignored it. She cranked up the air-conditioning and moved into the bathroom for a shower, needing to rinse away a miserable day of tedious surveillance. For once she’d succeeded at something.

  She’d followed her subject—a young man who claimed he was unable to work because of excruciating pain in his lower back—from his residence to a dusty construction site. She’d watched him strap on a belt loaded with heavy tools, tote materials up and down a scaffold and move bricks from one side of the lot to the other.

  And she’d managed to record all the damaging details for her client.

  Didn’t anyone tell the truth anymore?

  With the phone ringing again, she stripped off her sweaty clothes, knowing her client would be pleased. She’d saved this insurance company a ton of money, so maybe she and D.J. could get more work from the adjuster. This was exactly the type of work Pat had promised to secure for her. Funny how that idea no longer excited her.

  The Johnson case had put surveillance work into a whole new light, one she didn’t much like. Catching a cheating husband no longer seemed too thrilling, either.

  Merlene stepped into the shower and closed her eyes, allowing the cool water to glide over her skin. Thankfully D.J. felt better. Looked better, too, because he’d spent the day resting instead of baking in the hot sun.

  Her thoughts flickered to Cody. Damn. She’d spent twenty-four hours trying not to think about him—without a lot of success. His image inevitably pushed its way into her mind, which either pissed her off or caused the ache in her chest to expand until she couldn’t breathe.

  What in the world made her think that Detective Cody Warren could accept her past? She was all alone in the world and always would be.

  She wondered whether he, Johnny, or one of the other guards would get into trouble because she’d escaped. She hoped not, but she’d done what she had to do. Cody would just have to understand that. Would he? No, most likely he’d view her late-night departure as more proof that she was a murderer. But she hadn’t fled to Mexico, for goodness’ sake. She’d gone back to work.

  And after what they’d shared, how could he think her capable of murder?

  Merlene saw Peter’s ring flash in the mirror as she combed her wet hair. Lowering her arm, she stared at the diamond for a long moment, then slid it off her finger and tossed it in a jewelry box.

  She quickly dressed and hurried into the kitchen in search of something to eat. One look inside her refrigerator told her she needed to order a pizza. She hadn’t intended to be gone so long, and all the produce had rotted.

  She pulled the garbage can closer to the fridge and tossed out lettuce
, smelly onions, soggy zucchini. Her hand stilled when she found a plastic bag of pole beans purchased a few days before the trip to Ocala. Memories of the amazing night with Cody in the cabin came rushing back, followed by a wrenching sense of loss.

  For that one night it had seemed as if someone cared about what happened to her. What an intoxicating, empowering feeling that had been, one she’d never forget and likely never experience again.

  With the mushy bag of beans swinging in her hand and the cool air of the refrigerator billowing around her, she straightened her back and squeezed her eyes to banish the image of Cody’s powerful, naked body moving over hers. She knew she’d never forget the way his flesh felt against hers.

  “Damn you, Cody Warren,” she whispered, and tossed the beans into the garbage along with the other rotten produce.

  She didn’t want to love him. She fought against her rising feelings. Fought damn hard. But Cody had been so sweet, so protective, so—Cody—that she’d forgotten all the hard-learned lessons from the past. She’d thought maybe it could work out between them.

  So now she had to pay the consequences, go through the pain of recovering from more loss.

  Her phone jangled again, and Merlene glared at the receiver. Stupid thing wouldn’t shut up. She didn’t want to talk to anybody. Her answering machine was full. The caller ID had quit working—probably a dead battery because of the amazing volume of calls since the story of her video broke—so she couldn’t tell whether or not Cody had phoned. Her pulse jerked into fast-forward every time she thought of him trying to reach her.

  She knew, damn him, he’d say his goodbyes in person. Good old honorable Cody. He’d eventually tell her to her face that she was just a bit too trashy for him.

  The phone continued to ring, and she considered yanking every extension out of the wall. Instead, she grabbed the receiver. Anything to stop the noise. “Hello.”

  “Merlene Saunders?” a surprised female voice blurted.

  Merlene didn’t answer.

  “This is Vanessa Cooper from Channel Eight. I’ve left several messages.”

  “Sorry,” Merlene said. She definitely did not want to talk to Vanessa Cooper.

  “I’d really like to—”

  “I don’t have anything—”

  “Don’t hang up,” Vanessa shouted. “We can make it worth your while.”

  Merlene halted the hang-up midair. She returned the receiver to her ear. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ll pay you. I know your time is valuable. How much do you usually charge per hour?”

  Suspecting that the interview had already begun, Merlene asked, “How much are you offering?”

  “Oh, say, triple your usual weekly rate for one hour of time. If that’s not enough, we can negotiate. I can sell the spot to a nationally syndicated show.”

  Doing the math quickly, Merlene sat on her couch. The total impressed her. Maybe with this windfall D.J. wouldn’t refuse her offer to pay for the new medication his doctor had prescribed. Cody already thought the worst of her, and having more of a cushion against being a pathetic bag lady presented an inviting picture. She could take a few more classes each semester, she could...

  “I won’t jeopardize the prosecution,” she said.

  “Oh, no. Of course not,” Vanessa said. “During the interview, I’ll just ask you about what you saw. Too bad you don’t have the recording. That would really be worth some money.”

  Merlene allowed a pause to stretch out.

  “Ms. Saunders?” Vanessa said. “Are you still there?”

  “How much money?” Merlene asked.

  Vanessa’s response sounded eager. “You have a copy?”

  “How much?” Merlene repeated.

  “Enough so that you never have to worry about money again.”

  “Let me think about it,” Merlene said, and hung up the phone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CODY PULLED INTO Merlene’s gravel driveway and killed the ignition, unsure if he was relieved to see lights on inside or not. After a moment, he saw movement behind her curtains. Yeah, she was home. She was alive. She was okay.

  Good. He had one hell of a lot to say to her.

  But he waited, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

  Her phone message had revealed no regret about leaving the safe house. In Merl’s mind, the fact that D.J. needed her had left her no choice.

  Unfortunately, escaping in the middle of the night made her look even more guilty in his lieutenant’s eyes, even if he had nothing on her yet. Red with rage and suspicion, Montoya had held Cody responsible. He was frustrated with this whole damn case—like everyone else on the squad—but they had obtained no hard evidence that she had been complicit in the murder. Absolutely none.

  Sure, yeah, maybe some of Merlene’s behavior looked a little squirrely—especially withholding the video—but he understood her loyalty to D.J. Or thought he did. Cody tamped down a quick spurt of anger. Why couldn’t she have waited until morning?

  Had trusting her put his badge in jeopardy? Did he trust her? Yes. Yes, damn it, he did.

  Merl might have faults—and didn’t everyone?—but she was no murderer. As soon as he interviewed Neville Feldman, they’d learn the truth and find proof of her innocence. Her client? Maybe. His instincts told him Pat Johnson was a little bent, but that didn’t mean Merlene had participated in or even known about a murder.

  Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger, he thought longingly of an hour’s sleep. He’d been running on coffee and adrenaline for days. He’d tried to reach out to Merl hours ago...but Montoya wanted written reports, the prosecutor screamed for evidence and his partner needed help tracing Pat Johnson’s movements.

  One thing was for sure: the woman sure as hell wasn’t behaving like a grieving widow.

  Cody relaxed against the seat, mentally preparing himself for the battle to come. Merlene had had over twenty-four hours to work up a good mad. No question she’d let him know her exact opinion of the way he’d thrown Montoya’s suspicions in her face and disappeared into the rain.

  Well, guess what? She had a disappearing act of her own to account for, and he had plenty to say about that.

  He exited the car, slamming the door behind him.

  * * *

  THE DOORBELL INTERRUPTED Merlene’s final wipe down of her refrigerator. Bleach always did her soul good when she needed a fresh start. If only it were as easy to scrub a certain detective from her thoughts.

  A peek through her window revealed Cody standing on her front porch. She stepped back. Had he come to apologize or kiss her off?

  She swallowed. Or arrest her.

  She flung open the door with one arm and propped the other on the wall to bar his entrance. “Detective Warren,” she said, as coolly as she could manage.

  “Can I come in, Merlene?”

  She stared into his face for a long moment trying to assess his mood. His lips were tight but his eyes gave nothing away. Finally, she stepped away and motioned him inside.

  Peeling off plastic gloves with two sharp snaps, she moved ahead of him into the living room. No handcuffs. So far so good. What did he want?

  “What the hell were you thinking leaving the safe house like that?” he demanded.

  She whirled. So it’s like that, is it?

  “I was thinking D.J. needed me. I told you that.”

  “You left a message.” He emphasized the word “message,” as if it were dog droppings.

  “Best I could do,” she muttered. And you’re lucky I did that.

  “The department committed resources to protect you, and you run off in the middle of the night?”

  “You had no right to keep me prisoner.”

  He took a step toward her. “You weren’
t a prisoner. It was for your protection and you know it.”

  She glared up at him. “Really?”

  He advanced another step. “Yeah, really.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, refusing to back down. “Not with Feldman located somewhere around the Georgia-Florida line.”

  “What if he had an accomplice? What if he returned to Miami?”

  “So you keep saying. Did he?”

  “No, but—”

  “D.J. is sick, Cody. Thanks to you, the agency is in trouble. I had to help out, cover our open jobs. I wasn’t exactly having a good time on a loud, smelly construction site for eight hours.”

  His gaze drilled into hers. “You should have discussed it with me.”

  “Maybe I didn’t want to have this conversation.” She threw out her arms. “Or maybe I didn’t notice you anywhere in the vicinity for me to talk to.”

  Cody ran a hand through his hair but didn’t reply.

  She raised her chin. Good. Maybe she’d gotten the last word for a change.

  She watched him take a deep breath, struggle to control his temper. What would he say now? He lowered his gaze to her hands.

  “What are the gloves for?”

  “What?” His calm, husky voice stilled her mushrooming anger. “Oh. I was cleaning.” She tossed the gloves onto a table. She’d forgotten she was even holding them. “Cleaning house is good for the soul, especially when throwing out useless items.”

  “Do you want to throw me out, Merl?” The tender way he spoke the nickname warmed a spot she’d thought frozen over.

  This thing with Cody was crazy. Up—and then down. She ought to tell him to leave, remember he didn’t trust her, that she never wanted to speak to him again except to tell him off in her best temper. Why couldn’t she?

  He’d put as much hidden meaning into his words as she had in hers and obviously wanted an answer. Did she want to throw him out? She picked at a seam in her faded denim shorts, not knowing what to say.

  Cody grabbed her hand and rubbed his thumb along the back of her index finger. She wondered what he was thinking, what he wanted to say, not sure she wanted to know.