.38 Caliber Cover-Up

by Angi Morgan

  “You’ll have to go through the other bedroom,” Erren said, without looking in her direction. He began his conversation with the ADA in a voice so low, the other man had to lean across the corner of the dinette table to hear.

  “Six minutes.”

  Her partner gave her a thumbs-up and continued as if she was history. She hated to spend precious time on getting clean, but there was no predicting how long they’d be one step ahead of the men chasing them. Spending Sean’s money on clothing wasn’t wise either.

  Very few personal items were on the lone bureau. The nightstand was empty as in the other bedroom. No pictures on the wall. The room was clean of dust and the cover she’d wrapped up in all afternoon hadn’t been musty. So either Pike had cleaned recently or he’d hired someone to take care of the place.

  But the cabin belonged to Erren. Perhaps he meant it belonged to him now. As the executor, he’d know. She hadn’t pressed for details. It was definitely time for details.

  Taking a six-minute, straightforward shower was her family trademark, especially when she couldn’t shave her legs. Today would be no exception, no matter how inviting that huge tub seemed. No long, leisurely, candlelit soaks while reading a murder mystery. No bubble bath or cute feminine soap. Most of her life, she’d shared a bathroom with four men who cringed at a floral-scented or pink anything. She didn’t particularly care for pink either. It was much too close to purple or bloodred.

  Three colors to mark off her favorite color list. Such an unimportant thought, but one that brought her right back to her family. She’d do whatever it took to clear Michael’s name and hopefully her dad would understand.

  The soap was unscented and the water pressure strong. So perfect she could bask beneath the spray and positively purr.

  Concentrate on the case.

  How had Erren known how to contact the ADA? “Of course, I was actually the one who identified him this afternoon,” she said into the shower spray. “He could’ve called information. No deception necessary. So why the private meeting? And what was in the trunk next to the lounger?”

  Erren’s dark hair had dried pushed back from his face, curling behind his ears. Longer hair had been in the “cute” column for her as a teenager. On military bases almost all the young men had crew cuts to match their fathers. Most of the barbers had only one setting on their clippers—supershort.

  When someone had grown their hair out, they immediately became a rebel. Immediately worth dating. With the exception of her brother Michael, there hadn’t been any rebels in her life for many years.

  “Grow up, Darby.” Okay, talking aloud in the shower was also an old habit. She wasn’t going to “date” Rhodes, but he had a killer set of abs. She’d certainly made enough mistakes in front of the agent. Including blubbering like an idiot. How was she going to live that down?

  Cops didn’t cry when they were frustrated or tired. Of course, she hadn’t known she was crying until Erren had brushed away her tears as he’d pulled the quilt over her shoulders. Being tucked in was a rare occurrence after her mother had died from an undiagnosed heart condition.

  Nothing like that had been allowed growing up—especially crying. Allowed or encouraged? She didn’t understand which at the time. Now, she knew it was her father’s way of not dealing. He was an excellent sergeant major, but he didn’t understand the female psyche at all. It had always been easier for her to pretend she was one of the boys.

  But she wasn’t.

  And the man who’d saved her life without knowing anything about her made her feel completely feminine. When his eyes brightened to strong amber, he devoured her with his hunger without laying a finger on her body.

  “What are you hiding now, Erren?” she asked herself in the mirror to remind the capable cop staring back at her that her partner was alone with a man who might have answers.

  She threw the clothes on—an old Dallas Cowboys’ jersey and running shorts probably from the ’80s. She rolled the too-large shorts around her waist, bringing the hem right under her bum, but it was a lot safer than a mere towel.

  The sexual magnetism radiating from Erren would break the strongest of resisters. Hers had been in place for so long they were well established, but it was easier to imagine no barriers between them at all. Lord knew, she’d never become sexually entangled with a colleague. Yet this particular man was different. She couldn’t get involved with him and had to find a way to remember she couldn’t.

  Agent Rhodes, Agent Rhodes, Agent Rhodes, her partner, her partner, her partner…she chanted on her return to the kitchen, trying to appear as professional as skimpy shorts allowed.

  Brian was still seated at the table and actually rose to his feet as she entered the room. Erren had his head in the refrigerator. When he looked up to see her, the color drained from his face. He was as pale as when they were in the balloon.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head, took a deep breath. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Is it the shorts? I can make them longer if you have a safety pin or something.”

  “It’s not your breathtaking legs, Darby.” He dug in the fridge again, pulling out a Coke. “Want one? Or there’s a chocolate bar.”

  “No, thanks.” The comment about her legs would cause the chocolate to melt in her hand. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost or were sailing high above the clouds again.”

  “Let’s not talk about that.” He closed the subject of his fear of heights along with the door to the icebox.

  “I wouldn’t mind a drink,” Brian said, politely reminding them both he was in the room and reseating himself at the table.

  “Hand me your clothes.” He reached across the small bar separating the kitchen from the living area. “I’ll toss them in the washer.”

  “Thanks.” She handed him her clothes and took a seat. When she looked at him again, Erren’s arms were stretched above his head, showing off his gorgeous set of abs marred only with a flesh-colored Band-Aid.

  “Are you injured?”

  “How’s your side?” Her words overlapped Brian’s question.

  “Much better. Barely hurts.” He pressed the edge of the bandage covering his wound.

  “What’s all that?” She pointed to the papers she’d noticed earlier.

  “Family stuff.” He wrinkled his brow, pressed his lips together. “Just making sure that Walter didn’t leave anything here.”

  “Earlier today you were certain he didn’t.” She’d like to point out that his statements had led to her frustration and meltdown, but she wouldn’t broach the subject in front of the ADA.

  “Don’t make a big deal out of it, Darby. And I checked, I was right. There’s nothing here.” He pointed to the trunk. “If Pike had left information for me, he would’ve put it with my things. He didn’t.”

  He leaned back, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. The muscles in his chest and arms flexed with the natural movement. She couldn’t get her mind off his body. And couldn’t forget their professional relationship.

  She chanted again… Agent Rhodes… Agent Rhodes… Agent Rhodes… She looked across the table in time to catch the smolder in Erren’s eyes. She definitely needed more skin covered, but he could use a coat himself.

  Erren knew he was staring at Darby’s endless legs. Would she ever hide them under the table so he could see something else?

  Like what, fool? Her breasts hidden by Dad’s jersey?

  “So, Brian, what brings you to Lake Texoma on a Friday night? You don’t seem to be dressed for camping,” she said.

  The woman did have a nice wit. Great legs. Cute hair. Terrific body. But it didn’t look like he was going to be sleeping with Darby anytime soon. Detective O’Malley was concentrating on the subject she was dying to investigate.

  “I called Thrumburt this afternoon. After you identified him as a prosecutor, I played a hunch.”

  “Yes.” Thrumburt pushed his glasses to sit higher on his nose, playing t
he dork to perfection. “Erren asked if I’d been in contact with Walter before his death, which I had. I’ve been awaiting information for a grand jury hearing on Monday.”

  “So the package is supposed to be delivered to you.” Darby pulled the chair out and joined them at the table. “If you explain about the case, it might point us toward finding the information.”

  “Actually, Officer O’Malley, I was hoping you could provide me with an idea of how to prepare. I was very excited to learn you were here.”

  Erren watched Darby closely for any sign that she knew what Thrumburt was talking about. Nothing. Nada. Only confusion.

  “Can’t shed any light on the ADA’s dilemma?” he asked as casually as possible. The woman had started seeing through every persona he cloaked himself in. It had to be the close proximity, but he needed to play this like a normal guy. And he had to stay natural…even though he had no clue what natural was.

  “Why would I be able to help?” Genuine curiosity. She had no idea. Back to square one.

  “You’ve been called to testify,” Thrumburt informed her. “You were placed on the list per Walter’s instructions.”

  “Could be another reason the dirty cops chose to silence you last night. They had access to the notification list and decided you need to be eliminated.”

  “Normally Walter wasn’t as secretive with evidence and went through normal channels.” The attorney sat straighter in his chair, pushed his glasses up his nose again, more excited and confident. “He contacted me the day before he was shot, insisting I convene a grand jury to hear evidence. It was imperative the witnesses remain anonymous as long as possible.”

  “Someone has to know what this is all about. How can I be a witness?” She pushed back from the table and walked around the room. “I’ve been at the academy for almost four months.” She picked up his autographed baseball. Put it back on the shelf. “Any case I was involved with has been resolved.”

  “What exactly did you do for the Dallas P.D., O’Malley?” Erren hated being in the dark. He should have asked the question as soon as he’d suspected she wasn’t undercover.

  “Nothing special. I took statements, confirmed reports, lots of paperwork for the past two years.” She picked up her Glock, checked the load and replaced it on the shelf with better access.

  “She did a beautiful job,” Thrumburt said with evident admiration.

  “You pushed paper?”

  “What if we call the DEA?” She ignored his question and picked up a collectible of his grandmother’s.

  “Not advisable.” The lawyer shook his head, certainty in those two words.

  The fiery redhead was about to let the ADA have both barrels. He recognized the smoke signals she was huffing behind the lip she was biting.

  “If you don’t mind, Thrumburt, could you explain before Darby decides we’re just shooting down her ideas.”

  Darby’s eyes softened for a brief moment.

  “I’m certain about one thing,” he paused, literally looking over both shoulders, “Walter didn’t trust any department to be involved. He said no one could be trusted.”

  “He’s probably right. I put feelers out regarding Pike’s ambush. I was set up to take some kind of ride. And instead of getting my back, my handler disappeared.”

  “Did Pike send you Michael’s picture?” Darby asked Thrumburt while setting his grandmother’s poodle figurine back on the side rail much too hard. Her impatience was clear. She wanted answers and wanted them yesterday.

  “No, but I knew you were both involved.” Thrumburt placed his palms flat on the table, then readjusted his glasses, then folded his hands in his lap.

  Simple movements, but they seemed calculated and stiff. It was hard telling someone outside their group what was really going on. It had been for him and he knew Darby more than Thrumburt.

  “Look, man, she’s in this up to her eyeballs. You can tell her.”

  “You’re most likely correct.” He cleared his throat and looked at Darby. “When your brother was accused of Walter’s murder, I immediately assumed the true murderers would like him dead, too. I lobbied for the case and assigned police officers I can trust as his guards.”

  “Great. Isn’t that great, Darby?” Erren leaned back in his chair. Now she could relax, right? Her brother was okay.

  “You’ve seen him?” She crossed her arms, hugging her middle.

  “I’ve made it a point to speak with his doctors daily. He’s recovered from his gunshot wound and been moved from ICU.”

  Erren heard the washer stop.

  Darby waved at him to stay where he was while her lean, shapely form headed for the washer. “They’ve told us that much. Go ahead, Brian, I can hear you.”

  Brian proceeded to give a medical report. She seemed to be taking the information in stride even though she’d been yearning to know more. Darby bent over to stuff clothes into the dryer.

  I could get used to seeing that every day.

  Hold on. Where had that thought come from?

  The same place that was still thinking about tasting her lips again. The same place that wondered if the spot at the back of her neck would still be slightly salty. The same place that still wanted to take her to bed.

  “So you think Michael’s in danger,” Darby said, rejoining them at the table.

  Damn, had he missed the conversation? What had Thrumburt told her?

  “I’m not one to assume.”

  “Spit it out, man.” He was more impatient that he’d allowed himself to become distracted by Darby than with the attorney’s evasiveness.

  “There does seem to be more pressure to close the case than normal. I’m better with facts, but it does seem logical.” He looked back and forth between Darby and Erren. “Now that the witness isn’t monitored as closely by the nurses, he might be easier to eliminate.”

  “You think they may try to kill him. Where are the keys?” She stood from the table and went back to the empty bookshelves, searching. “If I can get to a phone, I can at least call the Sergeant Major.”

  “Hold on, Darby. Don’t you think those legs may draw undue attention?” He watched her tug the shorts down to hang lower on her hips.

  “You have until the clothes are dry. I have to do something soon.” She returned to the table.

  “We agree that Michael needs to be moved.” He could be that honest.

  “So you think Michael is innocent.”

  “Helping O’Malley won’t stop me from finding Pike’s murderer.”

  “Then why would you help him?”

  He shrugged and knew it reflected how he felt. He didn’t know. He’d be the one to dole out penance for the murder of his mentor, no matter who had pulled the trigger. “There are a couple of details we need to work out before we go. Have a seat.”

  She pushed the chair under the table, staring into his eyes throughout her entire deliberate objection to his ordering her to sit. A premeditated mutiny to any plan he’d hatched. When the wooden legs stopped their noise across the floor, she marched through the back door.

  The ADA ping-ponged his eyes, watching them closely, but kept his mouth shut. If he hadn’t been there, Erren might have followed Darby and stopped her from leaving. This way was more professional, if less intense.

  Tomorrow. Next week. Next year. It didn’t matter.

  If Darby’s brother were guilty…he’d be the one to guarantee Michael paid the price for his betrayal.

  Chapter Nine

  Erren’s lone walk returning from Thrumburt’s car was silent but for the crickets singing on either side of a beautiful starlit night. A sliver of a moon bounced off the lake. He kicked a rock with the toe of his tennis shoe, skittering several pebbles through the Johnsongrass lining the dirt road. The smell of rain was still in the air, due to the heavy foliage.

  A lakeside walk might be the perfect end to an evening if he’d been sharing it with someone other than a Dallas assistant district attorney. Someone like a certain by-the-book
cop he couldn’t get out of his mind.

  Darby would be waiting for him. Probably still on the back porch where she’d planted herself. She didn’t have her shoes on her feet, so she couldn’t go far. Unless she’d found them after he’d left with Thrumburt.

  Why was this woman so different and affecting him in ways he couldn’t predict? Attractive, yes. Physically, she was exactly what he wanted, but there was more. He hadn’t allowed himself to like anyone while undercover. No steady women. She’d broken all the barriers he’d had in place for seven years.

  Self-reflection had never been one of his strong suits. His job required few thoughts about why he did something. There was a right and a wrong. The black and white hadn’t mingled to gray in his adult world, thanks mainly to Walter.

  He stopped and faced the lake, taking a deep breath. Calm. Peaceful. Full of memories. He knew how long it had been since he’d let himself connect. Really connect. He’d been twelve. He hadn’t been distracted by the past…or a hope for the future.

  The next few days were going to be crazy. He was crazy for attempting this level of an operation with a rookie. There was no choice.

  “Aw, hell. She’s a paper pusher!” he halfway shouted into the night as he headed back. “A glorified stenographer.”

  Get it out now, man, ’cause once you go back to that cabin you’re making a commitment to Pike, brother O’Malley and Darby. And there’s no turning back.

  Hell, he didn’t have a choice now. He’d jumped in with both feet at her house, based on the sparks flying between them, not on the facts.

  “I admit it. I want her. I like her.”

  And you’re going to get her killed.

  “I will not get her killed.”

  He’d made few promises in his life, but the last to the Sergeant Major was one he intended to keep. She was quick on her feet, good with puzzles and had already proved to be an asset. If it were the last thing he accomplished, Darby would be safe.

  He walked to the rear of the cabin. Darby probably expected him to apologize for ordering her around. He liked that about her. He wouldn’t say he was sorry, though. Not when he was right and she had zero experience.