Bachelor Cop Finally Caught? (Hot Off The Press Book 2)

by Gina Wilkins

  His only response was a growl.

  For the sake of discretion, Lindsey gave Dan a ten-minute head start. She used that time to retrieve her camera from the trunk of her car and make sure it had film and batteries. The Edstown Evening Star had a limited staff; she didn’t have a photographer to summon. She could call Riley, of course, but there was no need to rouse him just yet. She could handle this assignment herself.

  During the drive to Opal Stamps’s house, she used her cell phone to call her boss and editor. Cameron answered on the second ring, sounding wide awake. She identified herself and rapidly informed him where she was going. It turned out he already knew about the situation.

  “Opal Stamps just called Serena,” he explained. “She wants to retain her as a lawyer for Eddie. Opal told us Eddie’s locked in his room, and she thought he’d be more cooperative if he has a legal representative on his side. Serena’s getting dressed, and then she and I are heading over there. No way I’m letting her go into that situation alone, though she has informed me she’s perfectly capable of doing so. I tried calling you to send you to the scene, but I got your machine when I called your house and no answer on your cell phone. I was just about to call Riley.”

  “No need. I’m almost there.” She saw no reason to explain why she hadn’t been home to answer her phone, or that her cell phone had been left overnight in her car.

  “All right. But use your head, will you? If bullets start flying, I don’t want to hear you jumped in front of one just to get a better angle on the story.”

  “Very funny, boss.”

  “I’m not trying to be funny. I’m telling you to be careful.”

  “Okay, I’ll be careful. See you in a little while.” She disconnected the call as she parked her car on the side of the road beside Opal Stamps’s house, directly behind a dark sedan she recognized as Dr. Frank Purtle’s. A marked patrol car, its lights flashing, sat in the driveway, and Dan’s truck was parked next to it.

  Climbing out of her car, Lindsey slipped the neck strap to her camera over her head, slid her notebook into the pocket of the jacket she’d retrieved from her back seat and moved to join a group of three men standing in the driveway behind the patrol car. A security light on a pole above them gave just enough light for her to identify everyone in one swift glance—Officers Billy Braden and Joe Elrod, and Dr. Frank Purtle. She didn’t see Dan. “What are you doing here?” she asked the physician everyone knew as “Dr. Frank.”

  He nodded toward the house. “Mrs. Stamps called me. She wanted me to sedate the boy, but he won’t let me near him. I decided to stay awhile—just in case I’m needed.”

  She devoutly hoped he wouldn’t be needed to treat any gunshot wounds. Turning to Billy Braden, she asked, “Where’s Dan?”

  The officer—a distant cousin of Dan’s—replied, his broad face somber. He’s inside with Mrs. Stamps. They’re trying to talk the boy out of his room, but he’s not having any of it. He keeps telling them to stay away from him or he’ll shoot himself.”

  Lindsey grimaced. “He’s feeling hopeless. Cornered.”

  “Cornered animals can be very dangerous,” Dr. Frank observed.

  “Eddie isn’t an animal. He’s just a scared and mixed-up kid.”

  “That kid could be an arsonist,” Officer Joe Elrod—the mayor’s nephew—growled. “And if he set the fire that killed Truman Kellogg, he’s a murderer, as well.”

  “Careful what you’re saying, Joe.” Her hands in the pockets of her leather coat, Serena North spoke as she approached, her husband at her heels. “At this point, as far as I know, there’s no evidence that Eddie has committed any crime. And we still don’t know that Kellogg’s death was related to any of the other fires.”

  Joe scowled. “You representing him, Serena?”

  “I don’t know yet. But I do know that there is a presumption of innocence at this point. Remember?”

  Lindsey piped in. “I can’t believe Eddie would deliberately kill anyone. Even if he did set that fire—which, as Serena pointed out, we can’t prove yet—he must not have known Mr. Kellogg was there.”

  Her attention drawn to the house again, she took a step in that direction. “Maybe there’s something I could do to help. Eddie knows me, and he always seems to like me. Maybe I could talk to him….”

  She didn’t like the thought of Dan being in there with a terrified young man with a gun. If anything went wrong…

  “I don’t think so.” Billy caught her arm. “Dan told me to keep you out here.”

  Lindsey scowled, her concern for Dan making her temper flare in response to being kept away from him. “You really want to move that hand, Billy, before Dr. Frank has to sew it back on for you.”

  Because she’d once blackened his eye—she’d been five and he seven at the time, and he’d thought it would be fun to kick over a block tower she’d very carefully constructed—the officer released her rather hastily. He kept his voice stern. “You know better than to threaten an officer of the law.”

  “All I want to do is find out what—” She stopped when she suddenly spotted Eddie Stamps looking back at her from his bedroom window. Tentatively, she gave him a smile and a wave of her hand.

  The curtain was abruptly closed again.

  “Just let me go knock on the door,” she said to Billy, haunted by the desperate expression on the boy’s face. “If Dan won’t let me in, I’ll stay out of the way.”

  “I’m sorry, Lindsey, but Dan directly instructed me to keep you away from the house. You know how mad he can get if his orders aren’t obeyed.”

  She gritted her teeth. “You know how mad I can get when someone interferes with me getting my story.”

  He seemed to pale a little, but he held his ground. “Given a choice of having you mad at me or Dan, I’ll take you.”

  Secretly she understood, of course. Dan’s temper—quiet and icy in contrast to her own somewhat more volatile outbursts—was something to be avoided whenever possible all right. But she needed very badly to know he was all right. To help keep him safe, if possible—even though she knew he wouldn’t appreciate her worrying about him this way. “I’ll tell him I didn’t give you a choice. Just let me—”

  The front door to the house opened and Opal Stamps stepped out onto the porch. Wearing a shabby flannel bathrobe, she wrung her hands, looking drawn and anxious. “Lindsey? You out here?”

  Dan followed Opal out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Mrs. Stamps—”

  The woman shrugged him away as Lindsey stepped forward. “My boy wants to talk to you,” Opal said to Lindsey.

  Lindsey took another step toward the house. “He wants to talk to me?”

  “Lindsey, this is not a good idea,” Dan said. “Eddie’s distraught. Irrational. I’ve called for a professional negotiator. A psychiatrist. He’ll be here in another half hour or so.”

  “Eddie ain’t going to be alive in a half hour!” Opal whirled to face Dan. “He said if we don’t let him talk to Lindsey, he’ll pull that trigger. He’s upset enough to do it.”

  Stepping onto the porch, Lindsey placed a hand on the woman’s arm. “I’ll talk to him, Mrs. Stamps. But I’m not sure what I can do to help.”

  “Nothing.” Dan shook his head stubbornly. “There’s not a thing you can do. The kid’s got a gun, and he’s on the verge of a breakdown. His mother and I have both tried to talk to him, but he isn’t listening to reason. If you slip up and say the wrong thing, he’s liable to go over the edge. I’m not willing to risk that.”

  “He just wants to talk to you, Lindsey.” Opal’s tone and her expression were pleading. “He always liked you. He’ll listen to you.”

  “I’m coming in.” Lindsey moved forward, pausing only when Cameron touched her arm.

  “Be careful,” he said.

  She nodded. “I will.”

  Dan’s scowl was fierce. “Damn it, Lindsey, will you listen to reason?”

  “We don’t have a choice, Dan,” she answered, gazing up at hi
m as she approached the doorway he was blocking with his body. “I couldn’t live with myself if Eddie kills himself because I turned down his request to talk. Could you?”

  He sighed, and his expression told her that he knew it would be futile to argue with her any longer. “I’m going in with you.”

  “If he’ll let you, that’s fine with me.”

  Serena and Cameron followed them to the porch. “Tell him I’m here, Lindsey,” Serena urged. “Tell him I’m on his side, and I’ll help him, whatever he’s done.”

  Lindsey nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

  Drawing a deep breath, she moved closer to Dan, her eyes locked with his. Very reluctantly he moved aside to let her enter the house.

  Chapter Twelve

  The last time Dan had been this scared, a brick wall had just exploded all over Lindsey. He felt much the same way now as he stared at the closed door that separated him from Lindsey and a desperate teenager with a loaded .45.

  Dan had done everything short of arresting her to keep her from going into that room, but she hadn’t listened to warnings or threats. When Eddie had tearfully begged her through the door to come in and listen to what he had to say, there was nothing short of physical violence that could have stopped her—and Dan had even threatened that.

  “He won’t hurt her,” Opal assured him as he restlessly prowled the dingy living room. “My boy’s not dangerous. He’s just scared because some people are starting to say he had something to do with those fires.”

  Dan wasn’t quite sure how that rumor had gotten out; he suspected some of Eddie’s classmates had started it—possibly someone who had reason to believe it was true. “I told Eddie I would listen to him—that I’d give him a chance to tell his side. Why wouldn’t he talk to me?”

  Twisting her hands in front of her, Opal eyed him nervously. “Well, you can be sort of…”

  Dan whirled toward her impatiently. “What?”

  She took a step backward. “Intimidating.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he snapped, stamping to the other side of the room.

  Even as he considered and rejected several possibilities for storming Eddie’s bedroom and rescuing Lindsey, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a cheaply framed mirror hanging on a wall. The dark scowl he’d already been wearing deepened. Hell. He did look intimidating. Picturing Lindsey’s pretty, smiling face next to his own, he could definitely understand why Eddie had chosen to confide in her.

  Which didn’t mean Dan had to like it. Or approve.

  He couldn’t believe he’d let her go in there alone. What had he been thinking? How could he have allowed his professional judgment to be swayed by the look in her eyes, the tone of her voice? When it came to Lindsey, he lost all objectivity in his work—and that wasn’t good.

  He glanced at his watch, noting that the second hand seemed to be hardly moving. He was giving her one more minute, he decided, and then he was going to figure out a way to get in there.

  Forty-five seconds had passed when the bedroom door suddenly opened.

  Lindsey stepped out first, carrying the .45 in her right hand as gingerly as if it might explode without warning. His homely face red and streaked with tears, Eddie shuffled out after her, hanging his head like a six-foot-tall kindergartener.

  “He wants to talk,” Lindsey announced. “I think Serena should be present.”

  Opal rushed toward the door. “I’ll get her.”

  Dan took a step toward Lindsey and held out his hand—which, he noted, was not entirely steady. She placed the gun in his palm, looking greatly relieved to be rid of it.

  He wanted to hold her, just to reassure himself that she was safe and unharmed. Instead, he stuck the gun in the back of his waistband and forced himself to turn away from her. “Let’s take a ride to the station where we can talk, Eddie,” he said, trying to keep his voice measured and even. As unintimidating as possible.

  “I’d like to talk to him before anyone questions him,” Serena said from the doorway, giving Eddie an encouraging smile. “I’ll follow the patrol car to the police station, and we’ll talk there,” she assured him. “Your mother can join us, if you want, or we’ll talk in private. Whichever makes you more comfortable.”

  Eddie nodded, cast a wary glance toward Dan, then sidled toward Serena.

  Dan’s two officers moved into the doorway, stepping toward Eddie. Joe was reaching for the handcuffs on his belt.

  “Oh, it really isn’t necessary to cuff him, is it, Dan?” Lindsey asked quickly.

  Dan leveled a look at Eddie. “You going to give my officers any trouble?”

  “N-no, sir,” he stammered.

  “Then we’ll skip the cuffs. Go on, now. Do what the officers tell you.”

  Nodding dejectedly, the young man allowed himself to be escorted out, Serena and Cameron following closely behind.

  “I don’t know why you’ve got to arrest him,” Opal complained to Dan. “He didn’t hurt no one.”

  “He had a gun, Mrs. Stamps.”

  “But he wasn’t threatening to hurt anyone but himself.”

  “We’re just taking him in for questioning at this point. Whatever he’s done—or hasn’t done—it’s obvious that your son needs help.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll get dressed,” she muttered, moving toward the hallway with dispirited steps.

  “I’ll drive her to the station when she’s ready, Dan,” Dr. Frank volunteered.

  Dan nodded, moving toward the doorway. “I suppose you’re going to the station, too?” he asked Lindsey as she fell into step at his side.

  “Of course.”

  “Good. I want to know everything the kid said to you.”

  She lifted her eyebrows as they moved onto the porch. “Some of what he said was in confidence.”

  “You’re not his attorney. Confidence rules don’t apply here.”

  “A reporter does not have to divulge information given off the record,” she replied, familiar obstinacy in the set of her chin.

  “I’m not asking just any reporter, damn it,” he snapped, stopping beside the driver’s door of his truck. “I’m asking you to tell me what he said.”

  That stubborn chin of hers rose even higher. “My personal relationship with you will get you some things, Chief, but it won’t get you inside information concerning my work.”

  He recognized the pointed paraphrasing of the words he’d said to her that Saturday in her kitchen, when he’d fixed her leaky faucet but refused to share information about the arson investigation. He had to keep a firm hold on his temper.

  “I’ll see you at the station,” he said, jerking open the driver’s door of his truck. “And if Eddie said anything to you that is relevant to my investigation, you’ll tell me even if I have to get a judge to order you to cooperate!”

  “Reporters go to jail before they betray their sources,” she reminded him, her own temper evident from the flush on her cheeks.

  “Don’t tempt me.” He climbed into the truck and slammed the door.

  He didn’t know if he was ready for the rollercoaster ride that a relationship with Lindsey would keep him on. Just in the past few hours, his emotions toward her had ranged from passion to terror to exasperation.

  Maybe his personal life had become routine and predictable during the past couple of years, but at least it had been relatively peaceful and comfortable. He had no doubt that Lindsey would change all that, turning his comfortable routines upside down. She already had, for that matter.

  He simply didn’t know if he was ready for this—or if Lindsey would be content for long with a man who preferred his personal life to be as unexciting as possible in contrast to his demanding career.

  Fortunately it wasn’t necessary for Dan to have to subpoena Lindsey for information. Eddie repeated every word he’d told Lindsey—first to Serena and then to Dan. He admitted setting the fires around Edstown, but he fervently denied having anything to do with the one in which Truman Kellogg had
died. Nor, he insisted, had he been responsible for the fire that had destroyed the insurance company earlier that week.

  “Do you believe him?” Lindsey asked Dan over coffee in his trailer later that day. It was just past noon—several hours after Eddie had been taken to the police station where he was still being held pending a bail hearing the next day. She and Dan had both been busy during those hours, only now having a chance to relax and have something to eat.

  “I don’t know.” Dan gazed into the coffee mug cradled between his hands as if he could find an answer there. “We know he set most of the fires. It’s a bit suspicious that the ones he denies are the ones with the most serious consequences. All he’s claiming are the old, long-vacant buildings.”

  She remembered the desperation with which Eddie had repeatedly assured her that he would not have risked having anyone hurt by the fires he’d set. “I know it sounds hard to believe—but he seemed so sincere, Dan. He gave so many details about the fires he did claim, but he knew nothing about the others.”

  “Not that he admitted, anyway. While there’s still some doubt about the cause of the fire at Kellogg’s fishing cabin, we know the insurance company was deliberately torched. Don’t you find it hard to believe we’ve got two arsonists operating in Edstown?”

  “Well, sure,” she admitted. “But it could be a copycat, couldn’t it? One of Eddie’s friends, maybe, who wanted to prove he was just as dangerous. Maybe?”

  Dan shrugged. “I guess it’s a possibility.”

  He didn’t sound convinced. Lindsey wasn’t sure she was, either. She wanted to believe Eddie’s fire-setting spree had been a symbolic cry for emotional help, that he’d been careful no one was harmed by what might have seemed to him like victimless crimes. But she was as skeptical as Dan that there were suddenly two serial arsonists in a town that had never even seen one before this.

  Dan refilled his coffee mug, then returned to his seat. His thoughts were obviously still on his work, giving her a chance to study him across the table.

  Because they’d been roused out of bed so early and so abruptly, neither of them had had a chance to shower. Dan’s jaw was covered with a two-day growth of beard that she found very attractive—but then she found almost everything about Dan appealing. He’d run his hands through his dark-brown hair so much that it was wildly tousled—reminding her of the way it had looked after she’d run her hands through it. He wore a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up the forearms, a pair of jeans and his battered boots. A casual and infinitely masculine look that was incredibly sexy in her admittedly biased opinion.