Chapter Three
“I didn’t steal the car,” Dee said for what felt like the thousandth time. She sifted her hair through her fingers. The room was claustrophobic. A gray, government surplus table split the area in two and took up more than half the space. With three cops crowded in, she couldn’t breathe. “If you’ll just check with Laurence.”
“We’re trying to find him right now, Miss Quinn,” a female officer wedged in the corner of the room responded with a professional tone. She wore her mousy brown hair slicked back so tight it was a wonder she wasn’t crying. “G. Shelton,” the name emblazoned in black over the gold-tone nametag, settled into a chair and wore a don’t mess with me expression in her dark brown eyes.
Jared sat close beside her, but Dee ignored him. Waves of heat that no longer contained anything friendly rolled from him. A little devil inside her wanted to ask if his offer of a place to stay still stood. She bit back a derisive snort. All that comfort, all that security she’d felt from him since they first met was gone, blown away with a single accusation.
She didn’t dare look at him.
“But I gave you his numbers,” she said to the room at large.
“He’s probably out to lunch,” Jared muttered.
She pressed her hands up and over her face. If Carl had already traced the car, she doubted Laurence was just out for lunch. Guilt, grief and a need to run swamped her.
She glanced around the room. There was no help here. Cops. They were all cops, and everyone knew cops stuck together.
Even if she wanted to tell her story, which she didn’t, none of them looked ready to listen. They were determined to prove she was a thief. Besides, when she would be ratting out a cop with no solid proof, why would they believe her?
Another officer, another hardened face, entered the room. F. Herbst—narrow-face, hawk-nosed, thin hair colored black by cheap dye in a razor-sharp side split—looked no nicer than the rest. There was no one here on her side. No one.
Not even Jared.
Bile burned the back of her throat. He was just another pretty boy after all.
“Dee.” Mike’s voice pulled her to the present. With his shaggy blond hair, crystal green eyes, and unblemished cheeks, he appeared the friendliest. He probably used those baby-boy good looks all the time to get confessions. He hitched a hip on the corner of the table. “Why don’t you tell me again how you and that car wound up in the Lexington area?”
How much do they need to know? She fisted her hands in her lap as she squinted at a speck on the white wall. Where should she begin?
“Just start at the beginning,” Jared said as if in answer to her thoughts. “When did you leave California?” he prompted, shifting to face her. His face was smooth, his eyes expressionless.
Where was the man she’d wanted to lean on last night?
Pulling in a slow, deep breath, Dee turned. Best to face him, to remind herself over and over who and what he was. A cop. How stupid could she be? “I left California eighteen months ago.”
“What were you running from?”
At that time? Her miserable failure? Her parents and their impossible expectations? Her uber-perfect sister? Humiliation kept her quiet.
“Is that when it all started? Eighteen months ago?”
“Yes.” In a way, it did all start then. She’d just lost her job—downsizing, they called it—when she met the vacationing Carl. Everything around her was falling apart. And there he was, handsome, crazy for her, and with an offer of a job and a chance to move away. Meeting him seemed like fate.
“Tell us what happened,” Jared encouraged.
She closed her mouth and sank her teeth into the soft insides of her lips.
Mike broke the silence. “When did you get your car?”
She lifted her knotted hands and relaxed them on the table before shifting her attention to Mike. They knew about the car. She wouldn’t be telling them anything new. “I left my home in Columbus Monday morning. Laurence Brulei drove me to Cleveland, where, using the cash I provided, he purchased my car.”
In unison, every cop pulled in a breath, like they thought they were finally getting somewhere.
“Do you remember the name of the dealership?” Jared asked.
“Dealer’s Choice. The salesman’s name was Tony Kazinski.”
G. Shelton scratched a note on a piece of paper and handed it out the door.
“The car’s listed as belonging to one Larry Brown,” Mike said.
Dee’s grin was instant, lopsided, and tremulous. “Laurence Brulei is his stage name. He prefers it.”
“Oh,” G. Shelton sat forward, her eyes warming with interest. “He’s an actor?”
Dee angled her head and studied Ms. Shelton. This was small-town America. Bible Belt country. How would she take the news that Laurence was a stripper? A cross-dressing, male stripper who could really work an unsuspecting crowd. And that moment of revelation? Holy cow! Some nights it nearly caused a riot. Still, he was a friend, one who’d helped her through the worst of times in Columbus. One who’d pointed her to continuing her education. “He’s a friend…and a dancer.”
“Is he any good?” G. Shelton asked from her corner.
Dee lowered her head, pursed her lips. She so did not want to pursue this line of questioning.
“Geri.” Jared’s clipped voice had Ms. Shelton settling back in her seat.
“You mentioned going to school. What school did you attend?” Mike asked.
Dee released the breath she’d been holding. “The Art Institute of Pittsburgh,” she answered.
“The Art Institute of Pittsburgh is in Ohio?” Jared asked.
“No. The Art Institute of Pittsburgh has an online campus.”
“You went to Columbus, Ohio, to take online classes from Pittsburgh?”
Dee huffed out a tiny breath as she shook her head.
The door opened a crack, and Officer Shelton rose. She spoke to someone outside in hushed tones before turning with a reassuring smile on her matronly face. “We were able to reach Mr. Kazinski and he’s confirmed your statements.”
Dee took her first real breath. “Does this mean I’m free to go?”
No one moved. C. Shelton’s smile faded.
They were never going to let her go.
“Why would Mr. Brown, or Mr. Brulei, suddenly report the car stolen?” Mike wondered aloud.
“He didn’t,” she snapped. How long did she have until Carl showed up?
“Then who did?” Jared asked.
She turned her head away. What was the point in answering?
“Dee.” Jared’s voice was a deep, velvet rumble. “How can we help you if you won’t talk to us?”
She snorted.
Jared shifted closer. “You know we’re on your side.”
How had she ever, for even the tiniest second, thought this guy was interesting? “Really?” Anger slathered with a thick coat of sarcasm covered her voice. “Then why is no one who is ‘on my side’ the least bit curious that we can’t reach Laurence, the man all fired up about his stolen car? Hmmm?”
She leaned back and folded her arms, thrilled with their silence. And she wasn’t done. “Has anyone here actually seen the filed report? I’ve got a note with Laurence’s signature in my purse. I guarantee it won’t match the signature on the report.”
G. Shelton was at the door in a flash.
“Then whose?” Jared asked.
If she gave them his name, how much time would she have before they made the connection? Before the blue line closed around her and held her captive?
Why couldn’t Jared have been a good guy?
Fatigue leached her energy. “Look, there’s no crime here. My ex-boyfriend is taking our split hard.”
The air in the room shifted. Four cops straightened to alert. Four pairs of eyes scanned her, searching for traces of violence.
“He’s the one who hurt you?” Steely anger leaked through Jared’s quiet voice.
Hurt. What a
mild word for intent to murder. “Not exactly.”
Jared’s knees bumped the side of her chair. “Did he threaten you?”
“Did you go to the Columbus police?” C. Shelton asked.
“Trust me, that would have been worse,” Dee answered.
A round-faced man with white hair and a bushy white mustache poked his head around the door. “The report has been dropped,” he said.
“Of course,” Dee muttered. “He got all he wanted—my location.” She pushed up from her chair. “Am I free to go?”
No one moved to clear her path.
“Dee, give us his name and a description,” Mike said. “We’ll get it in every cop’s hands immediately.”
She looked into each of their eyes. Would it matter? He’d be alibied tight, even if he had to pay someone to lie. But she didn’t have to stay here, waiting for him to show up. She reached down for her purse.
Jared spoke, his voice allowing no refusal. “His name, Dee.”
She walked to the door, rested her hand on the knob before turning back. “Carl. Carl Ormsby.”
Chapter Four
She had her head down and was moving fast. Jared had to ignore greetings to catch her. “Come on, I’ll take you to your car.”
“No, thanks.”
He lifted an authoritative brow. “You’re gonna walk? You don’t even know where you are.” He waited a second for that truth to sink into her stubborn head. “I’ll take you to your car.”
Without a word, she turned and headed toward the door.
Without a word, he started after her. He gave a brief nod to Frank’s barely raised finger. Frank was the best commanding officer on the force. He was a hands-on manager who didn’t hesitate to step out from behind the desk and help. Frank would check the ID, get preliminary info, and get back with him.
She was dressed like a dirty urchin, but her back was ramrod straight as she walked to his car. She waited, her fingers gripping the handle, for him to unlock the doors. Well, she could keep on waiting. His mother had raised him to be a gentleman. Pushing aside her hand, Jared unlocked the door, opened it, and held it while she settled in the front seat, careful to avoid looking at or touching him.
He allowed a grin to break free as he rounded the back of the car. Was she always this stubborn? This proud?
As he folded himself behind the wheel, he took in her rigid profile. The liberal hints of red in her hair suggested the same fiery streak in her personality. Satisfaction, warm and fierce, coursed through him. If she were going to stand up to an abuser, she would need that strength.
He wouldn’t allow himself to think about the buzz that stubbornness stirred in his own blood. He absolutely would not dwell on the thrill of going head-to-head with a woman who refused to fold like a wilted flower at the first sign of trouble. The fights. The make ups. Nope, he wouldn’t think about it.
Right now, she needed protection. “Dee, do you have a cell phone?”
She sat still as a stone wall.
“Look, no matter whether you decide to stay or go…”
She shot him a get real look.
“I want to be able to check up on you, to make sure you’re okay.”
She went back to ignoring him.
“I’m a cop. I know how to handle this kind of situation,” he said through clenched teeth.
She shrugged. “I never said otherwise.”
He fisted his hands on the steering wheel. She’d been scared and withdrawn before, but since walking into the interview room, she’d turned prickly as a porcupine.
A slow breath escaped him. Okay, he couldn’t blame her. She’d done nothing to deserve questioning by four—Was that overkill, or what?—cops. But she had to know they were only following procedure. She had to acknowledge that. Hadn’t he offered support by remaining at her side?
“Okay. Fine. Take my cell number and program it into your phone.”
She wasn’t having it.
“You never know when you’ll need help, someone you can trust.”
She turned her head and stared out the side window. Apparently he did not make the cut on her list of trustworthy people.
It took heroic effort to keep from banging his head against the steering wheel. What insanity ever made him think stubbornness was attractive?
His even tone, despite his clenched teeth, deserved an award. “You just said you know I can help. I think that qualifies me.”
Without answering, she pulled out her phone and waited.
“Dee, I want you to promise you’ll call if anything comes up.”
She nodded.
“This is serious.”
Her head whipped around. “Like I don’t know that? It’s my life on the line, not yours.”
“You’re not alone anymore.”
She stared straight ahead, her phone in her hand.
He wished things could be different between them, probably more so than she. As he pulled into Wilson’s station, he gave her his number and watched as she programmed it into her phone. “Look…” Apologizing was never easy. It was nothing less than a gift from God that his phone rang and spared him stumbling through those words.
Dee pushed her way out of his car as he listened to Frank’s report. She stalked to the building without looking back. “Dee,” he called over the car door as he stepped out.
She stopped, her back to him.
“Were you talking about Carl Ormsby, Chief of Police in Columbus?”
There was a second of silence. “The one and only.”
“ He’s in his office. He says he’s glad to know you’re okay.”
She spun around, her eyes flashing with horror and heat. “You called him?”
“Yeah, we had to verify…”
She slung her arm wide. “Why don’t you just rent billboards all the way from Columbus to here?” she screamed. “Save him some time finding me.”
“Look, we didn’t…”
She took a hostile step toward him. “Yes, you did. He no longer has any questions about where I am, or how he can reach me.”
Jared slammed his door, every bit as steamed as her. Everybody, everybody was ragging on cops these days. “Dammit, Dee. He’s Chief of Police. We had to make the call. How could we have known it was him? You”—he stabbed an accusatory finger in the air—“didn’t bother to provide that information.”
Her shoulders rose and fell with huge, angry breaths.
“He’s a decorated officer. He’s been honored by the city.” The heat of his temper had blown over. “Not every cop is a bad guy.”
Her eyes blazed. “No, not every cop is bad. But”—she slammed a hand on her hip—“tell me. When did they start decorating cops for killing their mothers?” She scratched her head, a feigned look of confusion. “Or maybe they decorated him for killing his fiancée. And maybe they honored him for his intent to murder me!”
His breath deserted him. Her allegations were wild, erratic. Impossible to believe. “Dee….”
She closed her eyes and snapped a hand, palm flat, in the air. “Thank you for all your help, Officer.”
She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d slapped him.
Every line of her body screamed she believed her allegations. Her fear, when he first met her, had been real.
But cops aren’t honored for trivial matters. Carl Ormsby had to be a legend in his community. Among his men. A father figure, a mentor. Like Frank Herbst was to those under his command.
The two positions here were polar opposites, which meant there was only one truth. Either she, for whatever reason, was out to smear a good man, or Carl Ormsby was the worst kind of dirty cop.
It was hard to say which argument offended him most.
“Dee, you can’t know….”
“Yes, I can.”
“Bullshit.”
She turned toward the door. “Believe what you want.”
He couldn’t let her walk away. “How has he gotten away with it?”
Her shoul
ders slumped. Fatigue shadowed her eyes. “People, even cops, see what they want to see.” She curled her fingers in air quotes. “He’s a poor guy who’s had a string of really bad luck.
“His momma supposedly died of lung cancer. She never smoked. And”—she pushed on when he opened his mouth to object—“no doctor in the Columbus area ever made the diagnosis.”
“The Cleveland Clinic’s not that far away.” He rushed to interject.
That logic didn’t slow her. “Usually they get a diagnosis before going to the Cleveland Clinic. But that aside, she never received any treatments in Columbus, either.
“His fiancée?” She raised her arm and snapped her fingers. “What could she have been thinking when she took a bath with her plugged-in hair dryer?”
When stated together, the stories did sound suspicious. But bad things happen. And sometimes the same person gets hit more than once. “They had to have been investigated. Both incidents.”
“Momma died outside the country. He took her to some island in the Caribbean, a special treat. Except Momma didn’t make it back. He was supposedly hunting with a group of friends when the fiancée was murdered.”
“An accident.”
She nodded. “It was ruled an accident. He was the sole beneficiary for both; it netted him a lot of money.”
Money was a solid motive in most cases. He couldn’t deny that.
“Four months ago, he started asking me to pay the bills. Nothing big at first, just times when he forgot to bring his wallet when we went out to dinner. Things like that. The next month it was ‘he didn’t have time, so would I mind catching the monthlies.’ I thought nothing of it. I had a separate checking account, and up to then I hadn’t been paying anything. So it seemed only fair.
“But then it was the next month and the next.” She lifted one shoulder. “I told myself it was no biggie until I went looking for the cable bill and found a huge life insurance policy. On me. He was listed as sole beneficiary.”
They were standing outside a service station on a busy street, but Jared heard nothing, felt nothing but her choking fear.
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 235
