Whisper of Warning

by Laura Griffin

  Her smile widened. A baseball game. For the first time in weeks, she had something fun to do with her evening. And for the first time in months, that something included a man.

  She let her gaze drift over him again, admiring his ripped body in that T-shirt. She knew he could see her doing it, even though his eyes were on the road.

  “I like the commando look,” she said. “It suits you better than the business clothes. Any chance you’ll swing me by my house to throw on some jeans?”

  He glanced at her. “You’re wearing jeans.”

  “These are dressy jeans.”

  “Dressy jeans?” He looked afraid of her jeans now.

  “They’re too tight to be comfortable and they cost a fortune. And this shirt is satin. Not exactly baseball game attire.”

  “Game starts in twenty minutes. We’re already going to miss the first inning.”

  Courtney sighed and gazed out at the road. She supposed she could make do. At least she’d be off her feet. She nestled her head back against the cheap upholstery and felt the tension in her shoulders start to dissolve. She was going to a baseball game. She was going on a date.

  And most surprising of all, she was going with a cop.

  CHAPTER 11

  The ballpark smelled like funnel cakes and hot dogs. Will glanced around at all the families and young couples, but he didn’t see any women besides Courtney wearing dress-up jeans.

  “You want a drink?” He put his hand on the small of her back and steered her through the mob. They passed food vendors, margarita machines, and about a hundred beer stands.

  “Let’s claim some seats first. I take it we’re in general admission?”

  “Behind home plate.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding!”

  “Someone at work hooked me up.”

  “Oh my God!” She seized his arm. “We’ll be able to see the pitches!”

  He smiled to himself as they waded through people. She had some tomboy mixed in with the glamour girl, apparently. She quickened her pace until they got to Section 119.

  “This way,” he said, leading her down a few steps to their row. They were pretty high up, but they had a great view of the diamond. Courtney spotted their empty seats and squeezed her denim-clad butt past a row of spectators.

  “This is amazing.” She plunked herself down and beamed up at him. “I can’t believe we’re behind the plate.”

  Will settled next to her, not too put out by the fact that they had to squeeze together a little. He was more relaxed now that he wasn’t at work. And Courtney seemed more like a casual girlfriend than a suspect in his investigation.

  The investigation he’d brought her here to talk about. He felt a stab of guilt. It was manipulative, inviting her out like this just to pump her for information. But people opened up more when they were comfortable. And a ballpark was about the most comfortable place Will could think of.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “You’re frowning.” She patted his knee. “Loosen up. You’re off the clock. When was the last time you took a day off, anyway?”

  He hadn’t had a day off since he’d started. Hell, he’d barely had a full night’s sleep. He’d come into this job determined to hit the ground running.

  “Let me buy you a beer.” She stood up and flagged a vendor. “Since you got the tickets.”

  Will watched the beer guy maim a few dozen people’s feet in his rush to get to Courtney. Grumbles rippled through the rows behind them as he stood there, making change for Courtney’s twenty and stealing glimpses down her shirt.

  She sat down and handed him a cup full of foamy beer. “Cheers,” she said. “I haven’t been to a ball game in years.”

  “You used to go a lot?”

  “Sometimes.” She slurped the head. “I dated a guy back in L.A. who was a huge Angels fan. He had season tickets.”

  Will looked out at the field, needing a change of subject. The Express had their best pitcher up.

  “This guy’s good,” he told her. “Wait till you see his slider.”

  They watched the next few at bats without talking. She didn’t have the need to fill every silence. It was refreshing. Unlike the heat this evening, which was oppressive.

  Will glanced at Courtney. The sun reflected off the auburn streaks in her hair. Perspiration misted her chest, and he wondered if he’d ruined her shirt by not letting her change clothes.

  The Oklahoma RedHawks hit a triple, and a groan went up from the stands. Courtney lifted her hair off the back of her neck and twisted it into a knot.

  “It’ll cool off soon,” he said, checking the sky. “I bet it drops fifteen degrees soon as the sun sets.”

  She tore her gaze away from the game and smiled at him. “I don’t mind, really. There’s a nice breeze.”

  He felt guilty again, watching her guard come down. It didn’t seem like the right moment to bring up a murder case, so he decided to ask about her family.

  “So you and Fiona seem pretty close.”

  She glanced at him, then back at the field. “I guess.”

  “You guys get along?”

  She scoffed. “We’d walk through fire for each other.”

  “Yeah, but do you get along?”

  Her gaze settled on him. “Sometimes. Sometimes not. We’re really different.”

  He sipped his beer. It was ice-cold, just like it needed to be in this heat.

  She looked at him. “You have any sisters?”

  “Brothers. Two.”

  “Are you close?”

  “Ah, not really. I haven’t seen them much these last few years. They’re both active duty.”

  Her eyebrows tipped up. “Your whole family’s in the army?”

  “Was. My dad’s retired now.”

  “And your mom?”

  “She died when I was sixteen.”

  Courtney’s face fell. “How’d she die?”

  Will shifted in his seat. How had they gotten around to this? He was here to interview her. “Leukemia.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and her eyes looked sincere.

  Shit, was she going to ask him about his mom now? He didn’t want to go there.

  But she didn’t either, apparently, because she turned her attention back to the field. The RedHawks scored another run, and Courtney swore under her breath. She was into the game, and he decided to drop the personal stuff for a while.

  They spent the next few innings making small talk about baseball. Courtney knew a lot about the sport, and although she didn’t keep up with the Express, she was pretty current when it came to the Rangers and the Astros.

  An Express hitter knocked one into the lawn, and everyone stood up and cheered. Courtney put two fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. She turned and smiled at him.

  “Hey, are you hungry?” She looked back over her shoulder as the crowd settled down again. “Those hot dogs smell really good.”

  “I’ll get us some dinner,” he said, standing up. It would give him a chance to regroup. “You want another beer, too?”

  “That’s perfect.”

  “Ketchup? Mustard?”

  She pulled some money out of her back pocket, but he waved it off. “It’s on me,” he said.

  “Everything but onions.” She smiled. “And I mean everything, even jalapeños, if they have any.”

  He escaped to the concession line. Everything but onions. Her smile let him know she was thinking about kissing him later.

  And why did he feel like he was in high school all of a sudden?

  This was pathetic. He needed to get back on track. He was here for information, and this softball approach wasn’t working. He needed to be direct, even though he was pretty sure a direct conversation was going to throw a bucket of cold water on the flirty Courtney he was enjoying so much.

  But she was a straightforward woman, so he needed just to come right out and ask her about Alvin. What did
she know about his law firm? His marriage? His business dealings? What secrets had he spilled during their pillow talk? He needed information, and Courtney had been a deep well of it so far.

  Will got the dogs and loaded them up with everything. Then he made his way back down to their seats. She was twisted around, talking to the trio of guys sitting behind her, who’d no doubt been checking out her fancy, silver-studded pockets for five innings.

  “Will!” She waved excitedly when she saw him. “You missed the chicken dance.”

  Thank God. He let her help him with the food, and soon they were chomping on hot dogs as he considered his new approach. But it wasn’t going to work. They were hemmed in by baseball fans, and the ones directly behind them were splitting their attention between Courtney and the game.

  “Let’s walk around,” he said. “We haven’t seen the park yet.”

  They took their hot dogs up to the concourse level and started circling the field. It was a nice ballpark. Very family-oriented, with lots of kid activities set up behind the outfield. They headed toward a moonwalk and a rock-climbing wall where half-wasted guys were attempting to impress their dates.

  Courtney polished off her dinner. “I love stadium hot dogs.” She licked her fingers. “There’s something better about them.”

  Will took another bite of his, but he wasn’t hungry anymore. He pitched it into a trash can as they walked past.

  “So I have a question for you, but you can’t lie.” She gave him a coy smile, and he felt a prickle of unease.

  “What?”

  “Did you know it was my birthday?”

  It was her birthday? Shit. It was her birthday. He remembered now, noticing the DOB on her paperwork the day they’d first met.

  “You’re twenty-seven today,” he said, not really answering.

  She stopped and caught his hand, grinning. “And he evades the question. You didn’t know, did you? When you asked me out tonight?”

  “I didn’t know.” God, he was a jerk. She thought this was a date.

  She tugged him forward. “It’s okay. I’m glad you were honest. You get brownie points anyway. I haven’t been on a date in ages.”

  Will glanced at her as she walked beside him. Her hand was warm and soft around his, and he didn’t really believe she hadn’t been on a date in ages. “How come?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She sighed. “David kind of soured me on relationships. I’m off men. Or at least, I’m trying. I thought about switching teams for a while, but it would never work.”

  Will floundered for a response. This woman could never switch teams. It would be a crime against mankind.

  She squeezed his hand, and he saw that she was laughing at him. “You blush at the oddest moments.”

  He cleared his throat. “So anyway.” Great start. “I’ve been talking to Devereaux.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “He thinks we need to focus on the money.”

  “The money.” Courtney tossed her hot-dog wrapper in a trash can. She turned to face him and slid her hands into her back pockets. “You’re talking about David’s money?”

  “Sort of. See, so far, everything is pretty complicated. There’re lots of people involved, which probably means deep pockets somewhere.”

  “You sound like Jack.”

  “Jack?”

  “Fiona’s fiancé. He’s an investigator with the D.A.’s office.”

  Will wasn’t thrilled about some D.A. guy sniffing around their case, but he let it go. “Anyway, I wanted to get your input. You think Alvin might have been involved in some sort of sketchy business venture? Maybe a deal gone bad?”

  She frowned. “I have no idea.”

  “He owe anyone money, that you know of? Maybe he had a gambling debt?”

  She glanced up at him. The sparkle had gone out of her eyes, and he could tell she wasn’t happy about this new topic. “He never talked about gambling.”

  “Betting? Horses? Maybe a sports team?”

  “No.”

  Will shoved aside his frustration. He remembered the letter Nathan had shown him, the one from Pembry. “What about someone named Dr. Awkward? You ever meet anyone by that name?”

  “Dr. Awkward? It sounds like a nickname.”

  “Could be. He ever mention a doctor to you at all? Maybe a business acquaintance?”

  She paused a moment, gazing out at the field. “We didn’t spend much time talking.”

  Right. He’d had that coming, but it still felt like a kick in the gut. “What about his cases?”

  “He might have mentioned stuff in passing, but nothing I remember.”

  “Okay. How about real estate deals? Eve Caldwell worked for the biggest real estate agency in town, so—”

  “Look, I don’t know anything about his business.” She crossed her arms. “I was his girlfriend, not his wife. Why don’t you ask her all these questions?”

  Her look was icy, and he realized the reference to Alvin’s other mistress might have been a little callous. “I’m just trying to put the facts together. I thought you could help.”

  She scoffed. “You know, if you wanted to interrogate me, why didn’t you just drive me straight down to the police station? You didn’t have to waste your time bringing me to a ball game.”

  “I’m not interrogating you. I just wanted to ask—”

  “Forget it.” She turned around. “Let’s go, okay? I’ve had enough baseball for one night.”

  Courtney lay on her sister’s sofa, trying to ignore the low creaking sounds coming from across the house. They were trying to be quiet. She knew that. More than once, she’d heard Fiona shush him, but still, it was an antique wrought-iron bed, and the house was tiny.

  Music. That would help. Courtney grabbed her backpack off the floor and rummaged through it. The interior of the bag suddenly lit up as the first few beats of “Hollaback Girl” sounded from her phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi.” It was Will. “Did I wake you?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  The other end was silent as he deciphered this. She tossed off the blanket and walked to the other side of the living room, away from the bedroom.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “Driving home from the station.”

  So, he’d gone back into work following the baseball game. What had he done, transcribed their conversation? Entered an audiotape into evidence? Her temper started to fester.

  “I called to tell you I’m sorry,” he said. “For earlier. I didn’t just invite you out to interview you—”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Pause. “Okay, I did. But I feel bad about it, and I want to apologize.”

  She bit her lip. If there was anything that got to her about this man, it was his earnestness.

  She heard a familiar noise outside and walked to the front window. “Where are you?”

  “On my way home.”

  “No, but where, exactly?”

  A few seconds went by. “I just passed your house, actually. Fiona’s house. I wanted to check things out on my way home—”

  “Come back.”

  Will pulled up to the curb, certain he was making a mistake and equally certain he wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it. The front porch light went off. Then the door opened, and Courtney slipped out.

  He got out of the Suburban and closed the door as softly as he could. She met him halfway down the sidewalk. He couldn’t really read her expression in the darkness, but he could see that she wore some silky black nightshirt that stopped about midthigh.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “Hi.”

  She held up a six-pack. Then she took his hand and led him back to the house. They settled onto the front stoop. For the second time that night, he felt like he was in high school, only this time, he’d snuck out of the house at night to visit his girlfriend, and she’d stolen her dad’s beer.

  She passed him an icy bottle. He twisted the top off and handed
it back to her, then took one for himself.

  “I hope you like Corona,” she said. “No limes.”

  “This is good.”

  Her bottle clinked against his. “Here’s to sucky birth days.” She tipped it back, and he watched her. The breeze lifted little strands of her hair off her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry about earlier.”

  “You said that already. Let’s forget it.” She picked up his free hand. “What brings you out here so late, Detective Hodges?”

  He glanced up and down the street. Everything seemed quiet. Fiona and Jack lived in a middle-class neighborhood with residents who mowed their lawns regularly and went to bed at a reasonable hour.

  “Just wanted to do a drive-by.”

  She gazed at him. He wondered what she was thinking. He wondered what she thought of him.

  God, he was an idiot. He swigged his beer and looked down the street.

  She bumped her knee against his.

  He bumped hers back.

  Then she rested her head on his shoulder, and he felt a pang of longing so strong he couldn’t breathe.

  He took another sip and floundered for something to say.

  “So. How’d the fitting thing go? I never asked you.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Better than I expected, in fact. Her dress is perfect for her.”

  “Are you in the wedding?”

  “I’m a bridesmaid. No chiffon, thank God.”

  Her hair smelled good again, and he looked away.

  “Courtney…?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m sorry about the timing here. If things were different—”

  “Stop apologizing. I’m allergic to guilt.”

  “I like you a lot.”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “I know you’re innocent.”

  She pulled her hand away and rested her beer on the steps. He couldn’t see her face in the dimness, but he felt the tension in her body. She was pissed. Great.

  And he didn’t blame her.

  He shouldn’t be here, having this conversation. Everything about tonight had been wrong. Yes, he’d been ordered to interview her again, to pump her for information. But he hadn’t been told to let it get personal. He hadn’t been told to check up on her every night, to take on the role of her personal bodyguard.