Case stood and moved out ahead of them, suppressing a nervous chuckle. Why was it that even though he was a fully grown adult working undercover, it never felt good to be singled out for discipline? And yet, this might be the perfect opportunity to find out more about the wife.
Could she be the drug dealer? He pictured her carefully painted full lips, flawless skin, and artificial nails, and huffed. Highly doubtful. A woman like her was likely more interested in redecorating her bedroom for the millionth time than manufacturing and distributing drugs.
Out in the hallway he paused, clasped his hands behind his back, and tried to look appropriately penitent. For what, he wasn’t exactly certain. But you didn’t get dragged out into the hallway by the principal and his wife unless you were in trouble.
Principal Vaughan tugged the chemistry room door closed, smiled, and lifted his hands, palms out. “I know you probably think you are in even more trouble. You aren’t. But I do want you to spend some time talking with my wife.”
Case’s confusion grew. He tried to remember if he’d noticed what line of work the woman was in. The truth was they hadn’t really paid that much attention to her. She was only on their list because she’d been at the restaurant and they hadn’t gotten around to crossing her off yet. He turned his focus on her.
She smiled and stretched out a hand. “Hi Case. I’m Candice Vaughan. I’m a licensed psychologist, and work part-time for the school on an as-needed basis. I’m also the island’s best real estate agent.” She accompanied that with a quick wink of humor. “I understand you just moved here and this is already your second time in detention? I’d like to talk to you about that, if you are willing to speak with me?”
Case bounced a look between the two. A teen would probably say he didn’t need the counseling, but the truth was, it would be good to spend some time with her. Confirm whether they’d been right to label her as low priority. Determine if they could cross her off their list. So instead of declining, he shrugged and folded his arms. “It’s not like I have a choice, right?”
The Vaughan’s exchanged a look and Mrs. Vaughan reached out and touched his shoulder to turn him toward the teachers’ lounge just down the hall. “If you’ll just give me a few minutes of your time, I’d really appreciate it. We care about you, and that’s why I’m here.” Her smile seemed genuine.
He let her lead the way, hearing the chemistry room door click shut behind them as Principal Vaughan returned inside.
“So… Moving right before your senior year must have been tough, huh?” Inside the teachers’ lounge, Candice directed him toward a padded chair and moved to the small fridge in the corner, tugging it open. “There’s Pepsi in here. You want one?”
More caffeine was always good but Case chose to only offer an indifferent shrug. “Sure.”
She popped the tab as she brought it over, handing it to him before she smoothed her hands over her skirt and sank into the chair opposite him, setting her bag on the floor near her feet. “Tell me about your move? What brought you and your dad to our island?”
“My dad’s work.” Case took a sulky sip of the Pepsi. If she wanted a sullen teen boy, she would get one.
“And what does he do?”
“He’s in insurance.”
Mrs. Vaughan held her silence waiting for him to elaborate.
“The guy who used to cover the island moved to California or something. And my dad got transferred here.” Case tried to look bored with the conversation.
“And does that bother you? That you have to pack up your life and move whenever your father gets transferred?”
Case was about to give her a reply when a phone chirped from the depths of her purse.
She offered an apologetic smile, but when she pulled it out to silence it he could have sworn that she turned three shades paler. “You know what?” She lifted the phone. “This is an emergency. I’m going to have to take this. Please forgive me.”
She hustled him back to the chemistry room, poked her head through the door only long enough to tell her husband “Sorry, one of my other clients needs me right away,” and then hurried off, heels clicking loudly on the tiles of the hallway.
Case sank into his chair to complete the last thirty minutes of detention in boredom. But things had just taken a turn. He only wished he knew what that turn was.
When he got home today he would turn Principal Vaughan’s image to the wall.
But he would also move the man’s wife, way up to the top of the priority list. Why had she turned so pale? Who was the phone call really from? Was it really a client of hers? And if so was it a real estate client? Or another client in need of her counseling services? Or maybe it was neither, but instead a partner in a drug manufacturing and selling business?
The odds were slim that a woman like her was the one they were after, but Case had been around this business long enough to know that you should never just dismiss people out of hand. Sometimes it was the ones who looked the most innocent who turned out to be guilty.
They were down to four priority suspects. Ashley Adams and Simon Hall were still maybes in his book.
Chloe remained his number one suspect. She at the very least knew some things they needed to know. He planned to try and connect with her today.
But Mrs. Vaughan had just put herself in the position of close second with her strange behavior.
Case reminded himself there were a couple suspects still only marginally crossed off the list. He sighed. Why did it feel like they were no closer to an arrest than they had been at the beginning of this op?
CHAPTER 12
The text came through at seven thirty.
Kyra rolled over with a groan and hugged her pillow tighter as she snuggled deeper into the warmth of her blankets.
Saturday! she mentally complained.
But only moments later, her phone chimed again. Kyra pried open one eye and fumbled for the phone on her night stand.
She frowned. The new texts were from the name “Anonimus.” The first one read, I know who is selling Fire. Followed by, But I’m scared to tell.
Suddenly wide awake, Kyra flopped back on her pillow and stared at the ceiling. Her first thought was of Case who just last night had asked her not to meddle in this investigation. Her second thought was to remind herself that she still wasn’t one hundred percent sure he even was a cop.
“Gah!” She sat up abruptly and dropped the phone back onto the charger. She needed a shower and a cup of coffee before deciding how to proceed.
From her dresser, she grabbed a pair of jeans and an old blue Levi’s T-shirt that promised comfort, then headed for the bathroom.
She took longer in the shower than usual because her mind was spinning through considerations of what to do about the new texts. She should go directly to the police with them. But if Case was a cop and truly here to investigate the drugs, then he was the logical one to report the incident too. Yet how could she do that until she knew without a shadow of doubt that he really was a cop? And there were plenty of doubts. All night long she’d tossed and turned. One moment thinking she should just trust him, and the next thinking there was no possible way he could actually be an undercover cop and telling herself not to get duped. She finally gave up on the problem and shut off the water that had turned tepid before it could swing all the way to cold.
Her hair was still wet and wrapped in a towel when a knock sounded on her kitchen door. Her heart started pounding even before she rounded the corner and saw that it was indeed Case, face concealed once more with the large hood of a sweatshirt. She felt the familiar swirl of confusion that seemed to grip her whenever he was around. What was it about him that stirred her with nothing more than his presence?
One look into those ice green eyes and she was practically ready to throw the door wide open and tell him she believed every word he’d said. Confide in him about the texts she’d just received.
She must have given him too long of a questioning look through the glass, beca
use after a moment he hefted the brown paper sack he held, as though that was reason enough for her to let him in.
Even as she unlatched the chain, she bemoaned the realization that she didn’t have even a swipe of makeup on yet. And then her irritation with herself doubled and doubled again. Lives were on the line and she was concerned about her appearance?
Reminding herself to proceed with all caution, she pulled open the door but didn’t move back to let him in.
He offered her that charming smile that was becoming so familiar. “Morning.”
She remained where she stood, folding her arms, because she needed the shield that put between them. “Morning.” She waited for him to state his purpose.
He didn’t seem to be in a hurry. His gaze started at the towel around her hair, slipped the length of her, and then meandered its way back to the towel.
How could the man make her feel caressed without ever touching her? Goose flesh pebbled her arms. She clenched her fists. Even if he is a cop, a relationship in this situation can go nowhere.
“Aren’t you concerned one of my neighbors might see you?” She asked the question even though she had no neighbor to the back and the likelihood of one of the other two being able to see who he was through the wisteria that grew thick along the arbor of the back porch was slim. She planned to throw every test she could at the man until she was one hundred percent certain one way or the other of his identity, cop or student.
Cradling the bag of groceries against one hip, he leaned a shoulder into the doorframe, which put him closer than she liked, but if she backed away it would be like giving ground.
He tipped a nod to the east. “Those neighbors left on vacation yesterday, so no one is home.” With a nod in the other direction, he said, “And Mrs. Hix left to take Saunders for his morning walk about five minutes ago. So, unless you plan on keeping me out here for another twenty minutes, I should be good.” His mouth tipped in humor. “Besides, I knew you’d want to call the Everett PD right away this morning to put your lingering doubts to rest. I might have been here sooner, but I had detention this morning.” His eyes sparkled with the bad-boy appeal that had likely gotten him assigned to detention in the first place as his gaze swept over her once more. “But it looks like if I’d have arrived any earlier, you might have still been in the shower. Anyhow, the station doesn’t open till eight on Saturdays.”
Kyra was still uncertain. Still pondering what to do about the texts. “What’s in the bag?”
“Kona coffee and stuff to make Swedish pancakes and blintz for breakfast.”
He was so close she could feel the warmth of him invading her space. She swallowed. “That sounds good.” She said the words that indicated she should invite him inside, yet somehow her feet remained stuck fast.
Those full lips tilted up at the corners again. He spoke so softly she might not have heard him if her every attention hadn’t been focused on him in that moment. “If I’m going to cook, you have to let me in. But if I’m not going to cook”—his gaze lowered to her mouth—“I can think of some other ways to pass the time.”
Her feet suddenly loosened from the floorboards and she stepped back, sweeping a hand for him to enter. Was her face as red as it felt? She spun away from him. It was probably a huge mistake to let him in. But what was done, was done. “You cook. I’m going to go dry my hair.” And put on makeup, but she left that part out.
“But making breakfast suddenly holds so little appeal,” he teased.
She suppressed a smile and kept walking. Bad boy charm, indeed.
“Don’t rush on my account!” he called after her as she hurried from the room.
By the time she felt presentable, the wonderful rich scent of the Kona tantalized her. She grabbed her cell phone from the charger by her bed and headed back to the kitchen. It was now almost eight thirty. The police station should be open.
Case was just pouring coffee into two mugs when she pushed through the door. Two plates held some sort of thin pancakes rolled into round tubes and filled with something creamy. Strawberries were sliced across the top of each roll. She tried to remember what he’d called it.
He paused mid-pour and gave her a look that could only be interpreted as appreciative. She felt her cheeks warm again and pointedly drew his attention back to the food. “This looks good. What did you call it?”
He returned the coffee carafe to its spot and clutched at his chest dramatically. “You’ve never heard of blintz?!”
She wrinkled her nose. “Should I have?”
“Oh man. Now I’m worried we might not be able to be friends.” He tossed her a rapid-fire wink.
She rolled her eyes at him.
He grinned. “Sit.” He swept a gesture to the table, then followed her and set one of the plates before her with a flourish and a little bow.
She couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“I always enjoy spending time with a beautiful woman.” He set his own plate and cup across from her and sat down.
Her brows arched. “Sounds like you make it a regular occurrence.”
He snorted. “I guess I dug my own hole on that one.” His face lost all humor. “In all seriousness, I do find you attractive. But as you can imagine this really isn’t a good time for…anything new in my life. I really came by today to ask you for some advice. And to see the look on your face when you finally realize that I’m not just a kid trying to pull one over on you.” The glint returned to his eyes.
She smirked. “We can take care of that right now.” Absentmindedly, she took a bite of one of the pancakes as she reached for her phone, but froze the moment the smooth cheesy filling and tart sweetness of the strawberries danced across her tongue. “Oh man! This is so good!”
Case curled his hands around his coffee mug and smiled at her over the rim, elbows on the table. “Told you.”
“What’s in this?”
He shook his head. “Nope. No getting distracted. Call the police department first.”
She acquiesced, but not before taking another bite and rolling her eyes in delight. She covered her mouth with one hand and spoke around the mouthful. “Who am I supposed to ask for again?”
“Detective Damian Packard. Put it on speaker. I promise I won’t say a word.” He stuffed his mouth full of pancakes as if to prove it.
“He’s really going to be at work on a Saturday morning?”
Case’s answer was to nudge her hand holding the phone and give a short nod.
Kyra dialed the number she’d looked up the evening before and set the phone on the table between them. Only a moment later a woman answered. “Everett Police Department, is this an emergency?”
“Uh, no. I’d like to speak to Detective Damian Packard please?”
“Do you have a case number?”
Kyra felt her pulse give a happy skitter. The man at least existed. “Uh no. I’m…working with…”
“His partner,” Case mouthed.
“His partner.”
There was a moment of pause on the other end of the line. Then, “Alright. Let me put you through. Just a moment.”
The phone rang twice.
“This is Detective Packard. How can I help you?” The man had a nice voice—deep, mellow, and smooth, with just a touch of an accent that she couldn’t quite peg.
Kyra’s mouth was suddenly dry. She should have thought through how to word her question. “Ah yes, detective. My name is Kyra Radell. I’m a teacher out on North Sound Island. How are you this morning?”
“Good. What can I do for you?” There was definite hint of humor in his tone, but also an indication that he was a busy man and she should get on with it.
“Well, I’m calling to ask if you know an officer named Case Lexington?”
A long pause ensued from the other end of the line. “Lexington? No. Can’t say as I know anyone by that—”
“Pack! I swear you are about to find yourself on my bad side!” Ca
se growled from his position across the table.
Over the line Detective Packard started laughing. “Oh, so you are there. You can’t blame me for a little retribution! Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago you tried to convince Carina that I’d transferred to Miami Beach?”
Case’s eyes narrowed, but his lips quirked with humor.
Kyra was outright laughing now, her relief at having Case known by the department making her almost giddy. “So you are willing to vouch that Case is indeed an officer?”
Damian’s chair squeaked as though he’d just leaned back in it. “Blond hair? Green eyes? Sourpuss frown on his face right about now? Yeah, that’s him.”
Kyra grinned at Case. “Alright, we’ll let you go. Thank you.”
The chair squeaked again and this time Kyra heard the distinct thud of feet hitting the floor. “Yeah. No worries. Take care Case, you hear? What’s the count, man?”
Case reached for the phone. “Always on two, Pack. Always on two.”
“For sure.” Damian’s dismissal was casual, but she could hear true respect and care for each other in the men’s voices.
Case punched the off circle and then slid her phone back toward her.
“What does the count always being on two mean?”
Case shrugged. “When you give a perp the countdown, you tell them three or five, or whatever number. But you always act on two. It’s sort of his way of telling me to be careful. Anyhow,” he leaned into the slats of his chair and folded his arms. “Believe me now?”
Kyra swallowed, suddenly feeling a wash of huge responsibility for keeping this man of the law safe. “Yes. I do. So your father is…?”
Case chuckled. “He’s actually my boss.”
Kyra felt the burden she’d been carrying all morning lift a little. Now she could tell him about the texts without worry. She opened her mouth and started to speak, but he beat her to it.
“Good. Now let me get to the reason I came.” There was a subtle shift in Case’s tone, a little more of a take charge note and a little less the ne’er-do-well senior who’d slept through several of her classes. “I need some advice about Chloe.”
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