Colton K-9 Cop

by Addison Fox

  Donovan Colton did fascinate her. He was attractive, obviously, but there was more. And what seemed to tug at her the most was what she sensed lay beneath the surface.

  Unaware of her close scrutiny, Donovan hopped into the car and turned toward her. “Coffee first?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then here.” He reached behind his seat and pulled a cardboard container from the floor. “I didn’t know what you liked but figured I couldn’t go wrong with a latte.”

  “Thanks. And you guessed right.”

  The scent of coffee drifted from the cup in her hand and she wondered that she hadn’t smelled it the moment she got into the car.

  “You’ve been busy this morning. First the vacuum. Then the coffee. Did you catch a few bad guys while you were at it?”

  “Alex and I are early risers. And I wanted to beat the traffic out of Austin so it worked.”

  “You didn’t just stay at your parents’?”

  “No.”

  Although she’d fumbled her first few comments, she’d gotten them back on track once she took her seat. For that reason, it was surprising to see his gaze shutter so tightly at the mention of his family. Her mother had always teased her that she was intuitive, but she didn’t need a lick of extra awareness to know that there was a no-trespassing sign on Donovan’s relationship with his parents.

  What she wanted to know was why.

  The Coltons were well-known in Whisperwood and throughout the greater Austin area. She had been so busy with her own family the past few years she hadn’t paid a ton of attention to community gossip, but she wasn’t completely immune, either.

  She knew of the Coltons. To Donovan’s comments the prior evening, he came from a large clan, with several branches spread across the state. The Colton family had been in the news recently, in fact, when serial criminal Livia Colton had escaped from prison. Public knowledge or not, it seemed bad form to mention that, so she relied on the manners her mother had drilled in from childhood and changed the subject.

  “I know Austin’s not that far. And it’s always nice to sleep in your own bed.”

  “Exactly.”

  Donovan started the car, the weird moment seemingly forgotten as he navigated down her street and toward the main road into town. At a loss over what to say, Bellamy twisted in her seat, petting and praising Alex as she told him good morning.

  Energy quivered beneath the dog’s fur but he held his position in the back seat. She ran her fingers over the extra soft areas behind his ear, finding a sensitive spot that had his eyelids dimming in pleasure.

  It was so simple, she marveled to herself. So easy. Alex wanted praise, attention and a reason to give his trust.

  As Donovan’s evasion over his family ran once more through her mind, she acknowledged to herself that people were far more difficult to figure out.

  * * *

  DONOVAN MADE THE turn into the parking lot at the Whisperwood police station. Bellamy had kept up a steady conversation on the short drive from her house, but quieted as they turned into town. The air seemed to shift and Donovan saw Alex shift with it, his already straight posture going even stiffer where he stood guard in the back seat.

  Unable to delay the discussion, Donovan instead chose to treat it with the same casual care he’d managed at her house. This wasn’t designed to be an interrogation, but they did need to understand what had happened to her and why Bellamy was targeted. He’d already sent the materials he’d collected on scene at LSP to the bomb squad and would oversee their review personally.

  But none of that would assuage her anxiety or make this morning’s discussion any easier.

  Chief Archer Thompson greeted them personally, authority stamped in his bearing. In moments he had them seated in his office, his own coffee in hand. Donovan liked Archer. He was a good guy, took the law seriously and had always been a collaborative partner. The man reinforced that belief in the way he set up the conversation and explained to Bellamy what they needed to understand.

  “Ms. Reeves, thank you for coming in today.”

  “Of course.” She nodded and while her shoulders were still set in a stiff line, her hand no longer clenched her coffee cup in a death grip, which Donovan took for an improvement.

  “I’m going to ask you several questions and some of them I’m going to ask more than once to see if you remember things from a different perspective.”

  “I understand.”

  With her head nod, Archer started. He took her basic information, even how long she’d been in Whisperwood, peppering in pleasant comments along the way and easing her into the discussion. Although Donovan knew his way around an interview, the ease with which Arch managed the conversation was impressive.

  “How long have you been at Lone Star Pharmaceutical?” Archer asked.

  “For a little over thirteen years. I started with them out of college.”

  Donovan digested that point. Thirteen years in her profession put her around thirty-five if she did college in the standard timing. He was thirty-one and had estimated her to be around the same age, so it was intriguing to know she had a few years on him.

  You’d do better with an older woman, Donovan. You’re far too serious for a younger woman to stay interested.

  His sister had said that to him recently and he’d been amused and vaguely offended. Too serious? Since she was kind to a fault, he quickly saw his way past it, but the underlying intention in his sister’s thoughts had stuck.

  He had dated younger and none of those relationships—for the ones that could even be called a full-on relationship—had had much life in them. He had Alex and his work and while the initial weeks of a relationship went well, the moment things turned serious and his schedule wasn’t fully aligned to theirs, the women he dated chose to walk.

  Bellamy Reeves didn’t strike him as a woman who walked. From what she described of her parents’ needs, she had stuck around, taking care of them and seeing to their well-being. She’d been loyal to a job when far more people were jumping from company to company for greener pastures. Even the night they’d met, she’d been at the store helping out.

  It was an impressive trait, one he couldn’t deny appealed to him.

  Hell, Colton, might as well just suck it up and admit it. Everything about the woman appeals to you.

  “Did anything unusual stand out about your day yesterday?”

  Donovan keyed back into Archer’s questions, the basic pleasantries of job history and life in Whisperwood long past.

  “The whole day was unusual.”

  “Did something happen?” Archer leaned forward, his already sharp focus growing visibly more pointed. “Something besides the car?”

  “It was... Well, I mean, I found something. On email.” Her fingers fumbled as she reached for her purse where she’d set it beside her. “I have an email. I printed a few copies.”

  Archer kept his cop’s eyes focused on her purse, his attention unwavering until she pulled the promised piece of paper from her bag. Although Donovan had no qualms her purse held nothing more than what she’d said, he couldn’t blame the man for staying on his guard.

  If she sensed the heightened attention, Bellamy never indicated it, instead handing over a piece of paper folded in half. She handed a second copy to Donovan and he quickly read through the terse, telling statements, bulleted out in list form after a cold, lifeless salutation.

  Donovan scanned the page again, his gaze going to the header that had printed out along with the content of the note. Her name was printed in the “To” line, along with her full email address, but no named sender was visible in the “From” line, just the word INTERNAL. The date was yesterday, the timing late morning as she’d already shared.

  He wasn’t an expert in technology and programming, but he had enough working knowledg
e to know something was manipulated in the note. A masked sender was a problem.

  A problem that could be easily created if one simply altered a printout.

  The thought struck fast and hard, nearly knocking his breath. His gaze shot to Archer’s and he saw the chief had already traveled down that path and fast.

  “Ms. Reeves. Tell me a bit more about this email. Do you know if anyone else received one?”

  “I think it was only me but I don’t know. We’re on a lighter work schedule with the holidays so there were fewer people around. Not that it would have mattered.” She shrugged, her vivid gray eyes dulled with the troubling memories of the day before. “I didn’t go around asking anyone. I thought it was wrong to do that until I’d spoken to Human Resources.”

  “And what did they say?”

  “They fired me.”

  “Yesterday?” the chief clarified, before pointing to the lone sheet of paper in his hands. “After you reported this email to them?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Based on what you’ve described, you’re a loyal employee.”

  “I thought so, too. But I wasn’t even given a chance to explain. HR refused to support me or even listen to my side of the story.”

  “Have you been working on any special projects? Anything that would have given you access to the details in this email?”

  “Of course not. That email’s about price-fixing, market manipulation and harming our customers. If LSP did that, I’d have quit on my own a long time ago.”

  “So this is a malicious rumor, then? Something to harm the company.”

  Bellamy stilled at the suggestion, her eyes going wide. “This is a terrible rumor to go spreading. It could ruin the company.”

  “I agree,” Archer said.

  Donovan had remained quiet, allowing the chief to do his work, but he couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Do you know who sent this? Someone who had a vendetta against the company? A disgruntled employee or maybe someone else let go recently?”

  “I don’t know anyone who’d do this. LSP is a reputable company. I’ve worked in the finance department for thirteen years. We file our reports properly and on time. We manage all government requirements and standards the industry is held to. Nothing about this email, or the practices it suggests, makes any sense. Too many people would know if something like this was happening. LSP provides vaccines to the entire Southwest. You don’t just cover up something like this.”

  “Then it does sound like a vicious rumor designed to seed doubt and destroy the company’s reputation.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you, Ms. Reeves?” Archer left the thought hanging, the impression of an affable, easygoing town leader fading in the space of a heartbeat. “Because it would be easy enough to manipulate a printout like this. Even easier for someone with such a lauded history at the company to whisper to a few people and seed a whole lot of doubt.”

  “You think I did this? Me?” Her voice squeaked on the last word.

  “I have to ask those questions. It’s my job.”

  Whatever nervousness carried her into Archer Thompson’s office vanished as Bellamy rose from her chair. She stood tall, her gaze direct as she stared the chief down across his desk.

  The same alertness that had filled Archer’s eyes returned, matched by Alex’s sudden readiness beside Donovan. They all seemed to hang there, the moment stretching out in a weird tableau of mismatched power, authority and frustration.

  “I lost my job yesterday, Chief Thompson. In the span of an afternoon, I lost my professional home, my reputation and nearly my life. I don’t know what sort of cruel, vicious game someone’s playing with me but I did not write this email, nor did I manipulate its contents.”

  “No one’s suggesting you did.”

  “Oh no? I came in here to freely discuss what happened and in moments, you managed to make me feel as if I was responsible for this.” She shook her own copy of the email, the one she’d retained for herself. “I’m lucky I even printed this out, but it was a last-minute thought before I blithely marched down to Human Resources, thinking they could help me. Or at minimum listen to my concerns and give me a fair shot. But they failed me and now so have you.” She sat back down, her gaze remaining steady before it flicked over to him. “Both of you.”

  Donovan wanted to argue but said nothing. She wasn’t wrong.

  And he had failed her. He’d promised her a safe space and instead had brought her into the lion’s den.

  Bellamy’s gaze returned to the chief, her attention so focused Donovan might have left for all she’d have noticed. That same loneliness he’d sensed the night before was back, her posture shuttered and protective as she turned fully in her chair to face Archer.

  “Ask me whatever you want, Chief Thompson. Ask me however many ways you want to. The truth remains the same.”

  Chapter Five

  Bellamy couldn’t get out of there fast enough. She’d walked into Chief Thompson’s office a trusting soul and walked out disappointed and once again unsure of herself. Why had she even listened to Donovan Colton in the first place? Had she really been taken in by the big, bad protector routine? The hot cop with the cute dog.

  Was she really that lame? Or that hard up?

  Obviously she was both.

  With the interview at an end, she’d already left the chief’s office a free woman.

  For now, that small, scared voice inside whispered. She’d done her level best to keep it quiet, but she couldn’t deny the raw, mind-numbing fear or the surreal nightmare she seemed to have fallen into, like Dorothy into Munchkinland. Why didn’t anyone believe her? Or, at minimum, listen to her without judgment?

  Was LSP so powerful that no one believed anything could happen there? That an employee could possibly discover something that was at best below standard and at worst, nefarious and deliberate?

  Even as she asked herself the questions, she knew the truth. Had it been anyone else, she’d have questioned them, too.

  What really stung was Donovan. She’d placed her already fragile trust in him and what had she gotten for it?

  Just like Maggie.

  Her hands fumbled as she stood in the lobby of the Whisperwood police station, punching a request for a car into an app on her phone.

  Like Maggie?

  Whatever this situation might be, it was nothing like her relationship with her sister. Nothing at all.

  Maggie had left her and their parents when they needed her most. Instead of providing the familial support and understanding their family needed, Maggie had chosen a life with her rich new husband, James, and came around as little as possible.

  Bellamy had given Maggie the benefit of the doubt at first. Newlyweds should have a chance to start their marriage off right, spending time with each other and cementing their relationship. She’d said those words to her mother often, especially on the occasions when Maggie turned down invitations to Sunday dinner or couldn’t come by the hospital when her father got too sick, disabled beyond her ability to care for him. She’d been adamant that her sister needed that time until the day she realized she was adrift at sea, caring for her parents all by herself.

  It had been those times that had created the rift that had never mended.

  Get out of there, Bell. They’re suffocating you.

  They’re our parents. How can you even suggest that? Worse, how can you walk away?

  I’m not walking away. I’m talking about legitimate care that can handle Dad’s needs and whatever it is that’s got Mom fading away more and more every day.

  They’re my parents.

  They’re my parents, too. Yet you’ve done nothing I’ve asked. You refuse to even listen to reason.

  The conversation had changed as t
heir father’s condition worsened, but only about where her parents should be for the optimal care. As if it mattered. The type of facility her father belonged in wasn’t anything they could have afforded, even if they’d wanted to. So Bellamy had scraped together what she could for daytime care and had swallowed her pride and taken her sister’s husband’s money to fill in the gaps.

  And they’d gotten by. Her father might not have had perfect care, but he had his family around him and he’d lived in his own home. The house was small, so it hadn’t been too difficult to make the needed changes to help him get around. And they’d all gotten used to the hospital bed in the front room after a while.

  The images were still so vivid, yet at times they seemed like another lifetime, they were so distant. The house had become hers after her parents’ life insurance settlement and it no longer resembled the home of an invalid. Wheelchairs, hospital beds and the endless rows of pills were long gone. The scent of illness no longer lingered.

  At times she was relieved and at others she wished she could bring it all back, would do whatever it took to have even one more day.

  When she went to her last physical in September, her doctor had told her these swings in emotion were the natural cycle of grief. Even knowing that didn’t make the days easier or the memories any less weighty.

  The ping of her phone announcing the arrival of her driver pulled her from the maudlin thoughts. She’d fought so hard not to be a martyr over her parents, so it was disheartening to realize how quickly those feelings could creep in, especially when she thought about Maggie.

  It was negative energy and she didn’t want it or need it in her life. Just like she didn’t need to be the object of a criminal investigation into why she might have decided to blow herself up.

  As if.

  Shaking it all off, she got into the car that pulled up to the curb. For as small as they were, even Whisperwood had adopted personalized transportation apps and she’d never been more pleased about that. She’d get home on her own and could assess the damage from her kitchen table.