Resolute Aim, page 9
Well, okay then. If he wanted his siblings to see him in the same way, he’d need to take a page from her playbook.
Adam glanced down at the paper he was holding, then back at Bree. “Did you work a lot of drug cases in San Antonio?”
“A fair number, yes, sir. We also had extensive training in dealing with people high on different drugs as well as handling meth-house scenarios.” She paused and gulped a breath of air, as if fortifying herself for the rest. “The lingering toxicity inside the building, possibility of explosions—pretty much anything that could happen.”
“Sounds like you have more knowledge about meth than our entire department combined. Do me a favor. As soon as you two join the drug investigation, speak to Helen and get on the schedule for the morning briefing.” His brother’s rarely seen smile flickered to life again. “I’d appreciate it if you’d spend—oh, I don’t know—about fifteen or twenty minutes sharing your knowledge with the rest of the department.”
A hesitant smile appeared on her face. “Yes, sir. Whatever I can do to help.”
“Outstanding.” Adam stood. “Our sheriff was right, as usual. You’re going to become an excellent addition to our department, and particularly to this investigation, as it seems the case just keeps on getting bigger.”
A slow burn crawled through Noah. A petty sensation that he hated but couldn’t stop. He hadn’t been assigned to the case, even though he was first on the scene. Now Bree, a deputy here for exactly—he glanced at his watch—three days, five hours and twenty minutes was being hailed as the be-all and end-all of the department.
Adam glanced at Noah. “You two will still be riding together until the sheriff returns, and we need to get the high school burglary wrapped up. After that, I’d like you both on the meth case with me.”
Shocked by his brother’s announcement, then deeply ashamed of his thoughts just moments earlier, Noah maintained a serious expression. While he couldn’t bring himself to address Adam as sir, he could at least show his brother the proper respect due someone in his position.
Noah stood, biting his tongue against any protests, wisecracks or even one harmless little joke. “We’re on it, sir.”
Dang if that “sir” didn’t just slip on out. And it didn’t taste nearly as bitter as he’d expected it would. The faint nod of approval he received from Adam in return made it worth it.
Hell, he’d call Adam sir all day long and twice on Sunday for a chance to run his own investigation, as long as Bree was at his side.
Chapter Eight
Bree speed-walked back to the bullpen, relieved when she found Dave Saunders gone. She’d had enough of him today, and she and Noah had a lot to do. Under the best of circumstances, an investigation could be slow, laborious work, but even more so in Resolute. The one thing they’d planned on doing today was the one thing still not done.
Bree checked her watch. “We better get going if we want the list of people who have keys to the high school.”
Noah pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket. Wearing a triumphant grin, he held it up. “We don’t need to. I stopped by the school on my way back from lunch and picked it up.”
“I thought we’d planned to interview anyone still at the school while we were there.” Bree struggled to keep her voice free of exasperation.
“That was the plan. But then something Bishop said about a case he’s working got me thinking. It makes more sense to check the backgrounds of all our suspects before we talk to them.”
Infected by Noah’s exuberance, Bree’s irritation sloughed away. In some ways he was still like a rookie: excited about every discovery, proud of every good idea.
She nodded her approval. “We might catch them in a lie from the get-go.”
“Yeah, and less back-and-forth.” Noah planted himself at his desk.
She rolled a chair over from another desk and sat next to him. He spread the paper open, and they both leaned over it, almost knocking heads. Before Bree could pull back, Noah turned. They were face-to-face. Noses almost touching. His dark, penetrating eyes locked with hers. The magnetic force captivated her, filling her with a torrent of sensual energy.
Get a grip, girl. Before she made a complete jerk of herself, Bree summoned a Herculean amount of willpower and pulled her gaze from his. An almost impossible task when she inhaled his faint earthy scent of cedar and eucalyptus.
Noah shifted in his chair and cleared his throat.
He’s not unaffected, either. That mollified her. Somewhat.
“Okay, this is everyone who was issued a master key to the school.” Noah tapped the paper.
Focus on the list of names. “That’s a pretty short list.”
“According to Principal Jackson, the teachers don’t get a master key—just one for their classroom. If they have to get into the school after hours, it’s arranged ahead of time for someone to meet them and let them in. In an emergency, either Jackson or a custodian needs to be called to unlock the main door, then walk them back out and lock up behind them.”
“So administrators and custodians, then.” Still distracted by his close proximity, Bree pushed away from the desk to put some real estate between them.
Noah added to the distance by leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, administration-wise, there’s just the principal who has the master key. Then there are the three custodians and the maintenance man. The vice principals and other admin staff don’t have master keys. We’ll ignore the principal for obvious reasons.”
Bree jerked upright in her chair. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Just because he’s been there forever and you respect him, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t look into him.”
“And normally, you’d be absolutely right. But the weekend of the break-in, he and Mrs. Jackson were in Houston, visiting their grandkids.” Noah’s eyes sparked with humor. “We still need to verify that, of course, but I think it’s a safe bet that he’s not our guy.”
As much as Bree wanted to wipe the smug smile from his face, she found herself amused. And that wasn’t her style. What was it about Noah Reed that turned her ordered existence upside down? “You could have led with that.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He tapped his finger by the next names on the list. “So that leaves the head custodian, his assistant and the guy who polishes the floors. The floor polisher fills in as needed if one of the first two are out. Plus, the maintenance man.”
“I thought you said the teachers don’t have keys.” Bree pointed to the last grouping of names. “I clearly see Coach Crawford’s name. I’m assuming the rest are the athletic department staff. What gives?” Even Bree didn’t miss the acid in her question. Nothing like blatant school favoritism to cool her ardor.
Noah gave her a quick look. He’d noticed her attitude change. “Between nighttime basketball games in the gym, extra innings in baseball and football games on weekends, the coaches need access around the clock. Didn’t make sense for them to pay a custodian to be on constant call. We’ll take a look at the coaching staff, but I think we should leave them for last.”
Bree narrowed her eyes. How many times had she railed against the inequity of it all? “Interesting.” Sarcasm dripped from the word. The push and pull between athletics and education was anything but interesting. It was shameful. “Less than a thousand kids total at the school, and that department has five coaches. Poor Ben Irving uses bandages and spit to hold on to... What? Thousand-dollar laptops? But the athletic department—”
“Before you completely dog Resolute High’s coaching staff, between the five of them, they cover every competitive sport Resolute participates in, either as a head coach or an assistant. Three of them, including Coach Crawford, also teach other subjects like history and math. The other two, in addition to coaching, teach phys ed.” Noah’s smile had disappeared.
She held up her hands in surrender. “Just forget it.”
“I don’t get what your problem is with our sports program.”
“It’s not Resolute’s program. It’s sports programs in general. You know how it is. In bigger school districts, at least in Texas, it’s common for a huge slice of the budget to go toward sports. I’ve seen some high schools that have football-coaching staffs almost as big as NFL teams.”
For once, Noah remained silent. Allowing her to make her point? Or too angry to speak? Whatever he was thinking, she needed to soften the rhetoric. “I just think more money should go to academic and outreach programs for under-resourced kids. I’m not saying sports in school aren’t important. They are. But equally important is keeping kids who don’t participate in sports off the streets and out of trouble. Keeping them busy with community projects. Teaching them how to navigate the parts of life after high school that they don’t learn about in high school.” Bree massaged her forehead. “The schools do as much as they can with the money allocated toward programs like that. But it’s usually not enough.”
Noah uncrossed his arms and straightened in his chair. “So what’s the solution? You’re fighting a losing battle in the ‘God, family and football’ state.”
“Believe me, I know. That’s why I started a youth program through my precinct in San Antonio.” And this is where I need to shut up. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and got herself under control. To protect her secret, she’d sworn to keep to herself at the new job—and here she was, blowing that big time. At this rate, how long before she revealed more than just her personal opinions? “Look, we need to focus on the investigation here. So, the principal’s not a suspect. Why leave the coaches for later?”
Like a desperate man, Noah seemed to leap at the change in topics. “Because Crawford reported the break-in. Besides, why steal equipment he has access to all the time? Same for the other coaches. Like I said, we’ll check them all out, of course, but—”
“Could they be throwing us off with the sports equipment, while what they really wanted was something from one of the other departments?”
“Possibly. That’s one of the angles we need to look at.”
“But you like the cleaning crew for this? More than anyone else?”
Noah shook his head. “No, not really. For the same reason. They already have access. Why stage a break-in?” His gaze drifted away from her for a moment. “I’ve known most of these men for a long time. I know you’re going to say I’m biased, but I just don’t think they look good for this. However, we’ll still start with them.”
“Do you have the final inventory list yet?” Bree asked, satisfied with Noah’s game plan.
Noah scrolled through his work emails. “Yeah. Here it is. I’m forwarding it to you.”
Leaving the borrowed chair at Noah’s desk, Bree crossed over to the far corner and logged in to her work computer. “Okay, I’ve got it.”
Bree scrolled through the inventory, comparing it to the preliminary list they’d received earlier from the principal. The list of missing sports equipment hadn’t changed, and still nothing was missing from the computer lab. From the science department, the list of missing or broken items had become longer and more detailed. The number of beakers and funnels, stirring rods and petri dishes was updated. Boxes of slides, a drying oven, Bunsen burners and two microscopes. As the science teacher had said, no rhyme or reason.
Bree returned to the empty chair next to Noah. “Okay, it makes sense that the coaches wouldn’t have attempted to steal anything from the computer lab, since they all have their own work computers.” To be absolutely sure, they’d confirmed that with Coach Crawford on Monday.
Noah nodded. “Even if one of the coaching staff wanted a laptop not issued by the school, to watch porn or access the dark web, it would’ve been easier to just pick up a cheap or used one somewhere.”
“We also have to consider that a key could have been swiped and copied, then the original returned. Or someone on the list could have lost theirs and borrowed someone else’s to make a copy without reporting it.” From her back pocket, Bree pulled out a small notebook and began writing.
The list of names. The list of missing items. Leads to follow. Her personal impressions. Anything she could think of, because sometimes when there were a million facts to consider, you forgot the details.
A quick glance in Noah’s direction showed that he was making notes, too, but on his computer. Her mouth twitched as she noted how old-school she was when building a case compared to him. And then she noted other things about him. How he tapped one finger against his lips while he stared at his monitor. How his fingers flew over the keys when he typed. How—Stop it. Stay focused.
Her mind churned. Not to mention her libido. “Let’s split the list. I’ll find out what I can on the head custodian and his assistant. You can have the other two.”
Without looking up, Noah nodded.
Bree started with the head custodian, Bill “Rusty” Nails.
Bree snorted. Rusty Nails? Poor guy. Bet he was teased to no end when he was a kid. She opened the background-check program.
Along with the list of names, Principal Jackson had also sent basic employee information. Based on his picture, fifty-six-year-old Rusty had no doubt acquired his nickname due to his full head of reddish-orange hair. He’d worked at Resolute High for almost forty years, ever since he’d graduated from the school himself. Married, he and his wife had three children who were now out-of-the-house married adults with kids themselves. No police record for him, not so much as a parking ticket.
Jack Williams, the assistant custodian, was a different story. Twenty-six years old and single, he’d worked with Nails for the last seven years. His juvenile record was sealed, but the fact that he had one meant nothing good. One, two—no, four—public-intoxication arrests and a handful of drunk-and-disorderly charges since turning twenty-one, the latest just a few months ago. One of these involved misdemeanor-assault charges.
A real charmer. Definitely someone who might run afoul of the law for more than just swilling his booze and getting physical. She put a star next to his name and looked up from her computer. “You familiar with this guy, Jack Williams?”
“We’ve hauled him in a time or two. Not the sharpest crayon in the box—and I’m talking the big box, 152 colors and a sharpener.” Noah spread his arms wide to exaggerate the box size. “By the time he starts getting into fights, he’s usually so drunk he just swings and follows his fist around into a cowboy pirouette.”
“What on earth is a ‘cowboy pirouette’?”
“Like the kind in ballet, except the guy is drunk as a skunk, misses his target and his momentum carries him around and down. Oh, and he’s wearing jeans and boots instead of tights and those shoes that make you stand on your toes.”
“You mean pointe shoes?”
Noah’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know what they’re called?”
“What? You think a cop can’t like things like the ballet or opera?”
Noah’s face screwed up. “You like opera?”
“Hell no.” Bree laughed. “But I do enjoy the ballet.”
“Good luck with that in Resolute.” Noah stretched his arms above his head. “You ready? I’ve got enough on the maintenance man and the night guy who does floors to start with.”
Bree glanced at her watch. “I’m ready, but it’s three forty-five, and school will be letting out around now. It’ll be hard to talk to any of them privately. Besides, we might learn more if they let us into their homes.”
“Works for me.” Noah yawned. “I need a little downtime. Meet you in the parking lot at six?”
“See you then.”
He gathered up his personal belongings and headed out. For half a minute, while he was still in sight, Bree allowed herself to enjoy the view. Handsome face, dreamy eyes, ripped physique—not to mention a winning smile. Throw in an offbeat sense of humor and his enjoyment of the smallest things in life, and Bree knew she was in trouble.
Get out of my head, Noah Reed. But he was like a tick that had burrowed under her skin.
In the past, whenever Bree had found herself on an emotional roller coaster, she could always fall back on the job. The job was her saving grace. The job was everything. Heck, the job was the reason she was here. For all that Noah called to her on so many levels, it was well past time she remembered that protecting her job would always be the most important thing to her.
And to do that, keeping things professional with Noah and laying low in general were imperative. Now Adam’s voice popped into her head, asking her to speak at a morning briefing about drugs.
Stellar job you’re doing of keeping off everyone’s radar, Bree.
She pulled up the reports that Noah had run on the maintenance man and the third custodian. Both were older men. Both had been with the Boone County School District for decades and at Resolute High for at least fifteen years. She printed out everything on all four men and went to the break room. Opening the fridge, she retrieved the half sandwich she’d saved from lunch, grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the vending machine and began rereading everything.
After all, forewarned was forearmed. Especially since she couldn’t trust herself to pull her actual firearm. Yet.
* * *
NOAH PARKED IN front of the justice center’s steps at 6:00 p.m. on the dot. The last streaks of an orange-and-purple sky disappeared below the western horizon, and he was pleased to find Bree already waiting. He believed in punctuality, one of the few characteristics he shared with his big sister.
Bree’s dark blue Ford F-150, an older model, sat in the next space with its windows fogged over. She locked the vehicle and slid into his passenger seat, bringing with her a blast of icy air unusual for the area, even in January. A chill raced through Noah, and he cranked up the heat.
Bree adjusted the collar on her heavy jacket before buckling herself in. “Am I imagining things, or is it colder this winter?”
