She Walks the Line (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  Cullen was flattered at the trust Mei Lu had in him, especially as she’d never seen his safe setup. She had to be a hundred times more familiar with Michael Ling’s security. It occurred to Cullen that maybe this wasn’t about trust—or at least her trust of him. What the hell was going on?

  Mei Lu continued. “In fact, print collection will take a while. I’ll run downstairs to pick up my messages. I’d also like an update from Captain Murdock on another case.” She jumped up and crossed to the door.

  Catherine briskly waved her out. “Fine. No sense tying all of us up. I’m going to be late for my next meeting as it is. Ask Annette to buzz me. I’ll need her to pass on my apologies to the mayor.”

  “The mayor? Oh, should you keep him waiting? I can stay for the print tech.”

  “No, no. Run along. The mayor and our city manager set up far too many of these useless meetings where we all sit around saying the same things over and over. Oh, crap,” she exclaimed, her eyes shifting to Cullen. “You didn’t hear that.”

  Grinning, he shook his head. “Not a word.” He had some questions for Mei Lu—like when she planned to return and where they should meet. But she’d slipped out already, and the next thing Cullen knew, the chief’s intercom beeped and a burly man in uniform marched into the office bearing a print kit.

  Mei Lu raced down the first flight of stairs in a daze. She had no car and, again, not much cash. Not carrying much money was a habit she’d gotten into on street patrol. Pickpockets hit on everyone, cops being no exception. She’d been razzed by her partner after losing money twice, so she’d stopped carrying more than a few dollars at a time, enough for a sandwich and a cup of tea.

  Mei spotted a former patrol partner working at his desk. “J.J., hi,” she said, rushing up. “I know this won’t come as any surprise. My car broke down, and I need to get out to my dad’s gallery. Can you lend me ten bucks until tomorrow? I’ll pay it back first thing.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Only you, kid. You oughta think about changing your ways, especially now that you’re a lieutenant. Congratulations, by the way,” he said, delving a gnarled hand into his pants pocket. “I can spare a twenty. Will that do?”

  “Great! Thanks. Tell Leta hi. I’ll bet you have new grandbaby pictures.”

  “The rascal’s walking already. I know you’re in a hurry, but stop by tomorrow, and let a proud ol’ gramps drag out his wallet full of pictures.”

  “I will. And J.J., I appreciate this.” She dashed out and down the hall, and at the street entrance, met Crista coming in.

  “Whoa. Where are you going? Are you hitting the gym at a different time lately? Haven’t seen you there in over a week.”

  Guilt and grief over their damaged friendship overwhelmed her. She didn’t know it showed so plainly until Crista grabbed her hand and pulled her aside.

  “What’s wrong? I’ve got a few minutes. Want to talk?”

  “I do. But not here.” Mei Lu’s teeth sank into her lower lip. “Cullen’s upstairs in Catherine’s office. You remember—he’s the contact from Interpol she assigned me to work with? He or the chief could show up on their way out any minute. I’m headed for my father’s gallery and I can’t let either of them see me.” She still clutched the wadded twenty from J.J. “My car’s being repaired, Crista. Darn…I don’t see a single cab and I need one fast.”

  Crista allowed Mei Lu to drag her back out the door she’d just come in. “That was a mouthful you just reeled off. I’m afraid I didn’t follow a word. But I just passed the coffeehouse down the street. It’s practically empty. We can, uh, grab a table at the back. If you want to, that is.”

  Mei Lu felt sympathy from a woman who’d once been her best friend and her fears seemed to lighten. She’d wanted to come clean with Catherine or Cullen about her suspicions regarding her brother—and her father. But their roles in her professional life made that difficult. Crista had never judged.

  “Crista, I’m in trouble. Or at least I think I am.”

  “You’re pregnant?” Crista gasped.

  “No, silly.” Mei almost laughed at her friend’s shock. “Let’s take a break,” she said with a sigh. “It’s worse than that.”

  “This I’ve gotta hear. Knowing how fastidious you are about reports and everything to do with work, I can’t picture anything really bad.”

  “You’ll see.”

  The two women hurried down the street. The coffee shop was half empty. They slid into a booth farthest from the other customers. The waitress knew them on sight. She brought Crista black coffee and Mei Lu green tea. Neither woman really wanted her drink.

  Haltingly, Mei Lu brought Crista up to date on the artifact-smuggling case. Anything she tried to keep vague, such as her after-hours relationship with Cullen, Crista wormed out of her with well-placed questions.

  If Crista guessed the extent of what had gone on between her and Cullen, she didn’t press. Instead, she focused on the real issue. “Mei Lu. Your family isn’t you, and you’re not a chip off the old block. You’re an excellent cop. I understand why you are torturing yourself, but you know the rules as well as I do.”

  Mei gazed morosely into her cup. Then she took a bracing sip. “You think I should go back and tell Catherine it’s my father who wrote on that box? I should let her take me off the case and send another cop to investigate him? Why don’t I just resign from the force?”

  “You asked my advice, and I’m going to tell you exactly what I think and then I’m going to forget we ever had this conversation. For both our sakes. Any idiot could see that quitting the force is the last thing you want. And you’re right—if you told Catherine, pfft…you’re off the case. Somebody with no tact or sensitivity could be assigned. If Shel Murdock gets to pick the cop, your name and your family’s is likely to get dragged through the mud. Are you with me?”

  Mei cupped her hands around her tea. “I am, but I’m not sure where you’re going, Crista.”

  “Just this. Who’s the primary on the case? Houston PD or—”

  “Interpol.”

  Sampling her cooling coffee, Crista downed about half, then slid out of the booth. She tossed down money for both drinks. “I have to run. I know you’ll figure it out.”

  Gulping the last of her tea, Mei Lu also slid out of the booth. “I might as well walk you back to the station.” She adjusted her watch to see the time. “Crista, I knew what to do all along—but I needed a good, swift kick to remind me. I’ll just get Cullen and tell him what I told you.” She shook her head. “How can I ever thank you?”

  Crista Santiago shrugged. “For the tea? I think you bought last time. Advice to a friend is always free.”

  Mei Lu smiled her first smile since she’d entered Catherine’s office.

  Parting from Crista inside the station with a brief hug, Mei plowed past people in the stairwell in her haste to reach Catherine’s office before Cullen gave up and left without her. She yanked open the fire door and barreled into him.

  “Hey,” he said, struggling to maintain his grip on the box holding the priceless vase. “The chief’s assistant phoned your office. A clerk down there said she hadn’t set eyes on you in three days. I was just standing here trying to figure out how to locate you. To tell you the truth, I’m a little leery about hauling this baby around town. Police protection would be welcome,” he teased.

  “I got waylaid and never made it to my office,” Mei Lu admitted. “I’m free to go if you are.”

  Cullen stood aside, letting her open the heavy fire door again. “I spoke to Freda. She was just pulling out of the Yees’ driveway with the kids and Foo. We’ll probably beat them to my place.”

  “Probably. Cullen, there’s another…side trip we need to make after you secure the vase.” Mei Lu sucked in a deep breath, then told him what she thought about the writing on the box.

  He said nothing until he’d unlocked the car and they both got in. He set the box on Mei Lu’s lap, his gray eyes stern. “This doesn’t sound like a
conclusion you arrived at just now. How long have you suspected Michael?”

  “Never! I don’t suspect him of the smuggling.” She picked restlessly at the fabric of her jeans. “That’s not quite the truth,” she said with a catch in her voice. “You know I talked to him. He is, after all, a leader in the Asian art market. I told you his reaction—instant shock. A person can’t fake that.”

  “In light of what you’ve admitted, about your dad writing the label, explain why I should believe you.”

  Mei felt Cullen’s mistrust, and she flinched as if he’d physically struck her. In all her internal wrangling, it had never occurred to her that he’d continue to question her veracity after she spilled her guts. Not after everything they’d shared.

  “Please, Mei Lu. Don’t clam up now. Enlighten me.”

  “Why can’t you believe I know my father, Cullen? He lives by a stricter code of honesty than any man I’ve ever met.”

  “You might not be such a good judge. You’re definitely not an unbiased one,” Cullen charged, barely containing the disappointment and anger roiling through him. Why couldn’t Mei Lu have trusted him all along?

  Neither occupant of the car spoke again until they arrived at the house and Cullen used his under-the-dash button to electronically open his front gate. “Wait here,” he said.

  Setting his brake, he practically ripped the box out of Mei’s hands and his keys from the ignition. “As well as stowing this someplace safe, I’m going to phone Freda and let her know we won’t be home when she gets here. And that we may be gone a while—in case you have to bring in someone from Houston PD to read your dad his rights.”

  Mei Lu watched his self-righteous stride through a thin sheen of tears.

  Crista had given her good advice. What other choice had Mei Lu had but to share her concerns with Cullen? That didn’t mean she was bound by either honor or duty to accept any more of his derogatory remarks.

  Waiting only until the front door closed on his heels, Mei Lu left the BMW and sprinted toward the street. She didn’t slow her blind rush until she found herself three blocks from Archer’s estate. Using her cell phone, she punched out police dispatch with shaking hands. Relaying her badge number, she requested a cab. She didn’t explain why she was stranded, nor was that necessary. She dug out the cab fare J.J. had lent her earlier. It seemed like a decade had passed before her cab arrived but in reality it’d been barely long enough for her to repair the damage from her tears.

  Based on the time, Mei thought her father had probably left his office by now. In that case she’d find him at home.

  CULLEN HANDLED HIS BUSINESS inside the house in short order, or so he thought. The very last thing he expected was to come out and find Mei Lu gone. “Dammit to hell!” He slapped a hand down on the hood so hard, shock waves ran up his arm. “Where would she go?” he muttered over and over as he backed swiftly into the street and checked both directions without detecting any sign of her.

  However, he knew she wasn’t a woman without resources. Add to that, a high degree of intelligence mixed with more street savvy than one might guess to look at her.

  Pulling to the curb at the end of the block, he let his car idle. Cullen admitted she’d given him the slip, although he still had difficulty believing she could just vanish. Then he began to worry.

  The truth was simple—she’d gotten under his skin. Way under.

  Cullen had let his temper override his good sense. As well, he ought to be ashamed for lacing into her. Was ashamed, dammit.

  As if that helped his situation. He had to find her. Before long it’d be dark. Propping his elbows on the steering wheel, he closed his eyes and willed his growing panic to recede. A chill walked up his spine as he realized where she’d gone. To face down her father.

  Freda’s Land Rover turned the corner just then. She passed the BMW, then stopped and backed up. “Are you all right?” she asked over the noise of the barking dog and excited twins. When he had trouble hearing, she left her vehicle and ran up to Cullen’s BMW. He rolled down his window.

  “Yes and no,” he answered. “I blew up at Mei Lu a few minutes ago. Then while I was inside, she took off. Walking,” he lamented, dragging his hands down his cheeks.

  “Going where?” The housekeeper snapped her fingers suddenly. “She mentioned that her folks live off Bingle Road. It’s not far. I don’t know the name of the subdivision, but she did say the house stands out because the fence has Chinese lettering in wrought iron. If you know her dad’s name and act like you have an appointment, you can probably get by the gate guard.”

  “Freda, you’re a jewel. That’s probably what she did—went home instead of to her dad’s gallery.”

  “Well, I’d better get these hooligans home. Will you and Mei Lu show up in time for dinner, or should I feed the kids?”

  Cullen shrugged. “Let me call you, Freda. I feel terrible for having treated Mei Lu the way I did. It may take a while for me to straighten things with her.”

  “Flowers, Mr. Cullen. Might not make up for everything, but flowers are hard to resist. They say a man cares. If you care, that is.”

  He pursed his lips. “That’s the heck of it, Freda. It was after I came out and found her gone that I figured out how much I do care,” he said gruffly.

  “Then I wish you luck. It’s high time you stopped rattling around in that big house by yourself for half the year.”

  Cullen watched her climb back in the SUV. Freda knew him well. He’d hired her after his divorce because Jana and her parents were claiming a man couldn’t take good care of year-old twins by himself. Cullen would always be grateful to the woman who had, at that time, recently lost her husband to cancer. Cullen never inquired as to what kinds of questions the family court judge asked Freda in his chambers. He only knew that when she emerged, the judge signed the joint custody petition. As far as Cullen was concerned, Freda had a home from then until forever if she wanted.

  He drove past a market and happened to see buckets of colorful flowers sitting out front. He made a sweeping turn into the graveled parking lot. Hauling out his wallet, Cullen bought an armload of daffodils. “Thanks,” he told the clerk, who sponged off the water and wrapped them in green florist’s paper. If he didn’t find Mei Lu, he’d take them home to Freda.

  It was important to him that she seemed to like Mei Lu. He recalled two women he’d dated after his divorce who had big plans for him and his home. All dates were history the minute any of them complained about his housekeeper or his kids. If those were tests, Mei Lu had passed both.

  Cullen drove up to the guard house at the gates leading to a swanky subdivision. “I have a meeting with Michael Ling,” Cullen announced brashly, not even sure he had the right area. “He’s expecting me.”

  “Huh. They having some do tonight he forgot to tell me about?” the guard asked, his gaze lighting on the bundle of daffodils. “I passed Ling’s daughter’s cab through just a few minutes ago.”

  Relief flowed through Cullen at the news. But a cab? That he hadn’t expected. “Far as I know, there’s no party. Just Mei Lu and me,” Cullen said, almost guilty about lying, yet not wanting the guard to call the house, either.

  “Residents are supposed to supply us with the names of expected visitors. They never do. And who gets yelled at if I question one of their important friends too closely? Sheesh! Go on in. Y’all might tell ’em the association rules say I’m not supposed to let in any Tom, Dick or Harry just because he drives a fancy car.”

  “I’ll mention it,” Cullen said, wondering if he dared ask which direction he needed to turn at the cross street he could see up ahead. Still, he hadn’t become a successful investigator without learning a few tricks. “I’ve only been to Michael’s home once, and it was daylight. Is it faster to get there if I turn right or left at that next cross street? Oh, never mind, I see Mei Lu’s cab coming out. A right turn is what I thought, but jeez, it’s easy to get mixed up in these crazy subdivisions.”

  “Ain�
�t that the truth. Don’t know what maniac lays ’em out. Bear to the right, then make a sharp left almost immediately. Can’t miss the house if you’ve seen it before. Sits smack-dab at the end of the cul-de-sac. The roofline reminds me of a pagoda or something.”

  Cullen cut the talkative guard off with a wave. The gates had slid open as the cab exited on the other side.

  Even through the gathering dusk, Cullen saw what the guard meant. The Ling home did look as if it’d been plucked straight out of Flower Drum Song. Mei Lu reminded him of Lea Salonga, the actress in the Broadway version. Same grace, same…beauty. Cullen’s mind stalled there as he pulled up to the house.

  Nervous about his uninvited visit to the traditional parents of a woman he’d not only slept with but wanted to sleep with again, Cullen felt his palms grow damp. He wiped them down his jeans before gathering up the huge bouquet of daffodils. He wondered if he’d be better off handing them to Mei’s mom.

  As he approached the Chinese-red door, light and sound spilled from an open window to his left. A disagreement, he guessed, based on the heightened voices. The occupants were speaking Chinese.

  Cullen located the brass doorbell and pressed it. A loud gong, gong, gong echoed inside. It couldn’t help but interrupt even the fiercest argument.

  Expecting either a butler or housekeeper, Cullen was surprised to have the door opened by Michael Ling himself. Even if Cullen had never met the man at Chamber of Commerce functions, he’d have known him on sight. Mei Lu got her height, her rangy frame and fine features from her dad.

  Shifting the armful of flowers, Cullen stretched a hand across the threshold. “Cullen Archer,” he said. “We’ve met at Chamber meetings, but you may not remember me. I’ve been working with your daughter on a case. Is she here? Mei Lu?”

  She was, although her father didn’t give her away. Mei Lu revealed herself, appearing in the dimly lit foyer. “Cullen,” she exclaimed, the color leaching out of her face. “How did you find me? And how did you get past the gate guard?”

  A second woman moved in behind Mei Lu. She was older than Mei, yet she’d obviously been a great beauty herself. Cullen guessed it was Aun Ling. She wore a hip-length tunic of emerald brocade, elaborately stitched with gold embroidery. Emerald silk pants shimmered in the light from the next room as the woman glided between her husband and daughter. Her braided hair was twined in an elaborate knot. Something held it in place—two chopsticks, Cullen saw, with carved dragon heads set with emerald eyes. They formed an X in her dark hair. The woman’s scowl almost negated her attractiveness.