Bayou Born, page 12
Dad nodded with satisfaction that I had given the correct answers.
Leaning closer to Cole, I begged, “Feel free to stop me from rambling at any point.”
He picked up the laminated menu and started scanning. “What do you want to know?”
“I remember visiting Jane Doe, but the rest is hazy.” I selected a straw and started picking off its wrapper. “Though I did wake up with a killer Thai craving.”
“We stopped for takeout at a Thai place in town. That’s when Justin Sheridan called.” He outlined the rest of the evening, and I tucked away every scrap of information. He gritted his teeth through the retelling of the accident and ended on a wholly unexpected note. “Since you were incapacitated, I took the liberty of reporting your friend as missing on your behalf.”
“That was you?” The straw rolled from my fingers. “I figured her parents must have gone down to the station after Justin told them she was missing.”
“I owed you.” Cole had faced down cops and paperwork—two of his least favorite things—for my friend. For me. He shrugged like his thoughtfulness didn’t matter, when it meant more than I could put into words. “I should have taken better care of you in the first place.”
“Now you sound like Dad.” I accepted my drink straight from the waitress and speared it with my straw. “Mother Nature was at fault. Not you.”
The rest of our breakfast passed without a hiccup, and Cole paid the bill, much to my father’s protests. I hadn’t lied about the food. It did settle my stomach. It centered my thoughts too. I had all the pieces, or most of them, and they were sliding around in my head searching for interlocking corners. We left at the same time and stopped outside the restaurant to make our awkward goodbyes.
“I need to swing by the station.” I had expected pushback from Dad, but Cole beat him across the finish line with a resounding no. “I want an update on Maggie’s case.” Chances were good Rixton and I had been passed over for that assignment due to our friendship with her. That left few choices, none of which satisfied me. I wanted a hand in her case, conflict of interest or not. “I need to follow up with Robert Martin too.”
“You’re on sick leave,” Dad reminded me.
“Then I’ll go off sick leave.” I already had my phone in my hand. “Let me check in with my partner first.”
Briiiiiiing.
Chills blasted down my spine, and I shivered. I really wished Cole would change his ringtone. But if I asked him to outright, the first question that popped out of his mouth would be why? And the only answer I would give him was just because. I wasn’t about to expose even more of my soft underbelly to him. I shifted away to give him privacy to answer his phone and bumped into Dad, whose face had gone bone-white and whose eyes carried a darkness I glimpsed only one night out of the year.
“What’s wrong?” I gripped his elbow and guided him onto a bench. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Maybe I have.” He blinked at Cole a few more times, shook his head, then scrubbed his face with his hands. “I didn’t sleep much last night. I’m due for a nap.”
“Okay.” I waved goodbye to Cole, who didn’t look pleased about me slipping away while he was otherwise occupied, and walked with Dad to his truck. “Let’s do that.”
Dad really must have been knocked for a loop. Otherwise he never would have fallen for my dutiful daughter act. His parental instincts always told him when I was faking. He remained distant on the drive home and went up to his room when we got there. I waited a half hour, until I could hear his snores from out in the hall, then palmed my keys off the kitchen counter where Dad must have left them after Portia swung by this morning.
“Sorry, Dad.” I trailed my fingers across the back of his recliner on my way to the door. “But Maggie is my friend.”
And I had too few of those to give up on even one.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Conversations stuttered and died after my arrival at the station, a lull so profound it was obvious my coworkers had been gossiping about me prior to my arrival. Now that I was here, their wagging tongues had gotten tangled and tripped them. A few managed a wave. Most couldn’t meet my eyes.
Me, I was numb to the offense. Or so I told myself. I was more curious if the chatter was about Jane Doe and me, as I’d overheard one man intimate we were runaways from some bizarre swamp cult, or if the curious looks were the result of Cole’s interlude with the reporter. Or both.
I bumped into Rixton in the break-room, donut in one of his hands and a cup of coffee in the other. “My, aren’t we feeling clichéd today?”
“What are you doing here?” He slapped his open palm on the table in an invitation to join him. “You’re on leave. I saw the paperwork this morning.”
“Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” I deadpanned.
“Your dad isn’t prone to exaggeration. He said you were in a wreck last night and got your brains rattled.” The paper cup protested as his fist tightened around it. “He banned me from visiting you at the house, and he strongly suggested I not call either.”
“Maggie,” I said.
“Maggie,” he agreed. “I respect the hell out of your dad, but that was dirty pool. You’re my partner, and my friend. I deserve to be there when you need me.”
“I’ll talk to Dad.”
“I assume since you’re here and he’s not that you’ve broken out of prison, aka your house, and that your dad has no idea where you are.”
“Nailed it in one.” I pushed spilled sugar granules around on the cracked Formica. “Tell me what you know so far, and make it quick. I can’t stay here long. It’s the first place he’ll search for me.”
“The blood collected from near the school?” He raised his eyebrows to make sure I was following along. I rolled my hand until he got the hint and continued. “It’s human. It’s type A. Maggie’s blood type. DNA results will take a couple of weeks.”
“So not blood from the stray.” I drew a swirling pattern with my fingertip. “Did you follow up with Robert Martin?”
“No, I didn’t.” He crammed the rest of his snack into his mouth then washed it down with steaming joe. “Not our case, remember? They gave this one to Dougherty and Buck.”
“Slip of the tongue.” I had anticipated the case being handed off, just as I’d known he would keep a hand in until Maggie was found. So I pushed. “What about Martin?”
“Dougherty interviewed him this morning. He admitted to backing over a dog, almost pissed his pants thinking the owner had brought charges against him. He corroborates the story you were told. Maggie saw it happen, rushed over and scooped up the animal, and he offered to drive her to the vet. The local office was closed, so they headed out of town. He claims they spent the better part of an hour there but left after the animal’s condition was considered stable. He dropped her off at the school around seven forty-five, then went home to bed.”
“Witnesses?”
“The vet’s receptionist, Jennifer Stanley, confirmed a man and a woman arrived together. Maggie insisted on paying the bill, so her name was on file but not the man’s. Ms. Stanley was shown a photo of Martin and positively identified him. And get this—” he leaned closer “—Maggie asked to use their phone. Ms. Stanley believes the party she called didn’t answer. She couldn’t make out what was said, but she got the impression the conversation was one-sided.”
“Has Dougherty pulled their phone records yet?” I huffed out a breath that sent sugar swirling. “We’ve got to nail down that voicemail.”
“He’s cutting through red tape as we speak,” Rixton assured me. “I offered to sharpen his scissors if he needs help.”
“Good.” The mention of scissors had me picturing Maggie making victorious snipping motions with her fingers across the edge of my palm the last time she beat me at her favorite game. Massaging the ache behind my breastbone, I drummed my fingers on his wrist. “I almost forgot. I have her phone. She left it at my house that morning. Dad must have pocketed it last night.”
“Ask him to drop it off when he signs in.” Rixton’s expression grew thoughtful. “I don’t know how much use it’ll be to Dougherty and Buck since she lost it prior to . . . ” His lips mashed together. “Still, I’d rather we had it than didn’t.”
My thoughts exactly. “Anything else?”
Rixton did me a solid by ignoring the catch in my voice. “Ms. Stanley estimates Maggie left with Martin around seven.”
“The school would have been deserted at that hour. Do they have any overnight security?”
“Nope. We loan out an officer during school hours to the high school, but not to the middle school or the elementary. However, the proximity of the elementary to the high school means the premises are often vandalized during football games. They have a decent security system in place. I believe Mr. Druthers, who owns the home security company off Handover Street, donated the equipment.”
Thank God for free advertising. “When do we get our hands on the footage?”
“We don’t.” He dusted his hands. “But I hear Dougherty will have a copy by the end of business today.”
“What’s with the resistance I’m sensing here?” I leaned forward. “I know you want in on this too.”
“Chief Timmons was asking around about you today. He heard about the tiff at Hannigan’s, and he’s got his bloomers in a bind. You know how much he loves the press. I get the feeling he’s sizing you up to be a sacrificial lamb to earn some goodwill in the papers. We’ve got two open missing persons cases, and that doesn’t happen in a town this size. Not to mention Jane Doe. People want answers, and he doesn’t have any. The Claremonts are vocal about wanting their daughter back, and they’ve got nothing on Maggie’s folks once the shock wears off and they get organized.”
The fact that Maggie’s parents let Justin do all the talking for them where I was concerned hadn’t slipped my notice. They had never approved of our friendship, but I’d hoped they would overcome their prejudice for her sake. Snubbing me despite my affiliation with the department told me loud and clear they weren’t interested in my help. Too bad they were getting it whether they wanted it or not.
“I wondered when the chief would be ready for his close-up.” I propped my elbow on the table and rested my chin in my palm, pretending the slight from the Stevenses didn’t hurt. “Speaking of Jane Doe, I found out who hired White Horse to guard her.” He didn’t blink, and a red haze shrouded my vision. “You knew?”
“I suspected.” He ducked his head. “This week kicked you in the lady-junk, and I didn’t want a spot in line. Plus, your dad is a crap liar, so I figured you two would have it out soon and you obviously did.”
“He paid Cole to shadow me.” I savored Rixton’s apparent shock. Guess he hadn’t put two and two together, which made me feel better for sucking at the same math. “That’s why Cole went ballistic at Hannigan’s.”
“No offense, Luce, but I doubt money had anything to do with his reaction. You don’t manhandle a woman in front of any man with a soul and expect to strut away without consequences. You sure as hell don’t rip off a woman’s shirt for a peek and snap photos you plan to publish later. I would have ripped the guy a new one if Cole hadn’t lost his damn mind and almost done it for me.”
Any argument I made past this point would make it sound like I cared what Cole thought of me. Sure, he had a white-knight complex that explained his choice in logos. And yeah, he’d held my hand that one time for so long my arm went numb. And okay, so I might have an excess saliva problem around him. But he had been paid to look twice at me, and I had trouble getting beyond that. Good thing I had more pressing matters than worrying about a guy with one foot already across the county line.
“A little bird told me the Feds will be rattling some chains later today,” he said, lining up his shot and tossing his empty cup in the trash. “Kapoor is swinging by to pick up the hard-copies on the Claremont case.”
“I’m guessing we’ve been cut off cold turkey on that front.” I hadn’t been a cop long enough to forge my own contacts within the FBI, and Dad milked his sparingly since working for such a small department hadn’t given him many opportunities to rack up favors higher up the food chain either. “If Dougherty proves a connection between the two incidents, Maggie’s case will be absorbed into their investigation.”
A knock on the doorframe had us both turning. This was a common area, but the trainee had obviously not wanted to interrupt an intense conversation.
“There’s a guy at the front desk.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Says he’s here for a meeting with Officer Boudreau.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Rixton chuckled under his breath. “This I’ve got to see.”
He jumped to his feet. I was slower to follow, and not just because of my head injury. The trainee waited on us to join him then led the way up front. Skin prickling from all the unwanted attention, I suppressed the urge to rub my hands up my arms.
One of the girls from dispatch caught my eye, shot me two thumbs up and mouthed, Yum.
“I didn’t know tall, dark and mountainous was such a turn-on for so many women.” I kept my voice pitched low, but Cole turned as though he had heard me. “He ought to smell like pine boughs or mountain streams.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Rixton quirked an eyebrow at me. “It’s like you’re spouting the script for a men’s body wash commercial. Do you like this guy or something?”
We reached the desk before I formulated a response, and the trainee vanished behind a stack of boxes. Poor kid. He was scanning old case files into the new system. I remember those days. Good times. No. Actually, they weren’t.
“Hiya, stalker.” I waltzed right up to Cole. “How can I help you?”
“You drove yourself here.”
Despite the fact he had made it a statement, I couldn’t help asking, “Your point?”
“You blacked out this morning. You’re suffering memory loss.” He loomed over me. He seemed to enjoy that. Looming. He stuck out his hand. “Give me your keys.”
“What?” Rixton attempted to join in the looming, but he lacked the height for it. Plus, I had seen him wearing Sherry’s panties once on a dare. After that, a guy loses the intimidation factor. And my respect. “Is that true?”
“Yes.” No point in denying it when Cole looked seconds away from patting me down until I jingled. “I drove thirty-five the whole way here. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” Rixton’s expression soured. “You’ve got to take better care of yourself.”
“Maggie needs me,” I growled. “I can’t sit on my hands and hope someone else brings her home.”
“No one’s asking you to do that.” He jabbed a finger at me. “But you’ve got to use your head.”
“She can’t use her head.” Cole stared down his nose at me. “She almost cracked it open last night.”
I spluttered as the guys ganged up on me.
“Luce, please,” Rixton pleaded. “Let me drive you home. Don’t want to go there? I’ll drop you off with Sherry if your old man’s smothering you.”
“I’ll take her home.” Cole made it sound like a foregone conclusion. “I’m sure her father’s looking for her by now.”
“I’m not a kid. Don’t treat me like one. You’re not getting paid to paddle my ass and drop me off on the porch. Oh wait. That’s right. You got fired. You’re not being paid at all.” A growl rumbled through Cole’s chest that turned heads in our direction. “I take the coddling from Dad. He’s earned the right.” I drilled my finger into Cole’s chest. “You haven’t.”
“I can get Donaldson to drop you off,” Rixton offered. “Give yourself twenty-four hours to rest.”
“The first twenty-four hours are the most critical.” He couldn’t argue with me there.
“You’re no good to Maggie like this. Do you think she’d want you to kill yourself searching for her?” He softened his voice. “I’ll keep you in the loop. Updates every two hours, I swear. Tomorrow, if you’re stronger, then we’ll hit this hard. Together. Deal?”
I glanced between them. “Do I get a choice?”
“No,” they said together.
“Were you dropped off?” I sighed in Cole’s direction and accepted the inevitable. “Or is someone waiting on you?”
“I told them I’d catch a ride.” He didn’t rub it in my face that he was right. But he sounded so sure he would get his way I wanted to kick him in the shin. “I’ll drive you home, if you’ll let me.”
If. That was the biggest concession I was likely to get from him. “Fine.” I dropped the keys into his palm. “Rixton, you’re a traitor, and I expect a text from you in two hours on the dot.”
“Love you too, Bou-Bou.” He danced out of reach of the punch I swung at his face. “Testy, testy.”
“I’m going to murder him one day,” I confided in Cole on our way to the Bronco. “He’s going to call me the right nickname at exactly the wrong time, and I’m going to poison his donut or cut his brake line. Oh! Or I could drop him in a vat of acid.”
Except, knowing my luck, he would survive, wake up believing he had super powers, and then use the experience as an origin story for his inner supervillain. As flattering as having an arch nemesis might be, I didn’t have time for monologuing with one. Also? Sherry deserved better than to be damned to a lifetime of laundering unitards. Especially considering the aforementioned panties incident.
“No, you won’t.” He opened the passenger-side door for me. “You’re a cop to the bone. You wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your career.”
Alone in the car, I admitted to myself that he had a point. I did love my job. I loved Rixton too, in the way little sisters must love big, overbearing brothers. Dad’s heart would break if I got brought up on murder charges, and prison was not kind to fallen officers. So, when the time came, and Rixton uttered the last Bou-Bou that broke this camel’s back, I would just have to make very sure I didn’t get caught.
Knuckles rapped on the glass, and I frowned at a man of average height with tan skin, dark hair and the eyes to match. His smile was all boyish charm, a stark contrast to his serious outfit. Black tactical pants bloused over his gleaming boots, and a flak jacket zipped over his T-shirt. I absently wondered if Ranveer Singh, the famed Bollywood hottie, had a younger, more bullet-resistant brother.
