What he especially liked about this last case—other than the fact that it had introduced him to the sexy reporter—was that the thief had been taken down, so to speak, without his having to fire a single shot. Not all cases involving robbery ended so peacefully.
More often than not, someone was hurt, sometimes fatally. Colin didn’t admit it out loud, but he took it hard when that happened. It wasn’t that he thought of himself as some kind of superhero who should be able to prevent things like that from happening. He didn’t think of himself as a hero at all, but the fact that he wasn’t able to prevent a fatality really ate away at him for a long time.
Maybe that was why before Heather had become his responsibility, he had lived a faster life, determined to enjoy himself as much as possible. Partly because life was short and could end at any time and partially to erase certain images from his mind.
Images like having a would-be hero’s blood pool through the fingers of his hand as he desperately tried to stem the flow, desperately tried to keep the man alive. But he’d come on the scene just minutes too late. Too late to stop the gunman from firing that lethal shot, but at least not too late to take the gunman down.
It still kept him up at night sometimes or disturbed his dreams, intruding like an uninvited, unwanted visitor determined to disrupt everything. Those were the nights when Heather came into his bedroom to wake him up instead of the other way around.
They were a pair, he and Heather. Both trying to act as if nothing bothered them. She was becoming more like him each day, he realized, wondering how Ryan would have reacted to that little piece of news.
He found himself wishing Ryan was around to react to anything.
Colin rotated his shoulders, then just got up from his desk altogether. There was only so much sitting at a computer, inputting information, that a man could be expected to do.
He needed to get some air, he decided.
“See another art thief darting by?” Marconi, another detective sitting close by, asked as he looked up to see him walking out.
Colin took the remark in stride. “Very funny. I need to stretch my legs.”
“Hey, Benteen, so when do we get to see that chiseled profile on TV?” another detective, Al Sanchez, asked, speaking up.
Colin merely shrugged. That alluring reporter had said she’d get back to him, but she hadn’t mentioned when. “Beats me.”
“I’ve been here fourteen years. Never had anyone come and film me,” Marconi pretended to complain.
Sanchez ventured a theory. “Maybe they didn’t want to risk their cameras breaking filming that ugly mug of yours.”
Colin knew they didn’t mean anything by it, but he ignored them anyway. The truth was that he really wasn’t comfortable about being on camera. He’d been just doing his job and saw no reason for something like that to make the six-o’clock news—or whatever time it was going to be on.
Leaving the squad room, he shoved his hands into his pockets. His right hand came in contact with the card that the news reporter had given him just before she’d left.
He felt it for a moment, his fingers passing over the embossed lettering. Taking it out, he looked at the card for a long moment.
Elliana King.
Her number was written directly under that. Probably not hers, he discounted. Most likely, it was the studio number. Even so, for a moment, he was tempted to call it. But then he thought better of it. What was he going to say? “Hi, remember me? Would you like to get some coffee somewhere?”
That wasn’t going to get him anywhere. She probably had her share of guys calling her. Besides, he didn’t have time for things like that. He had Heather to look out for.
Colin put the card back into his pocket and just kept on walking.
* * *
Hours later, he finally unlocked the front door of his apartment. The moment he walked in, Olga Pavlova, his next-door neighbor, gathered together her things and headed straight for the door.
“Good evening, Detective,” the woman said, nodding at him as she passed. And without another word, she was gone.
Which left just him and Heather. His niece was planted on the sofa in front of the wide-screen TV.
“You’re watching the news?” he questioned.
“Olga says I need to be aware of the world around me. ‘Is good to know,’” Heather said, doing a decent imitation of the woman’s thick Russian accent.
“So how was your day?” Colin asked as he slid down next to Heather, loosening his tie as he went down.
Heather spared him a look. “I learned stuff, forgot stuff, the usual.” And then she tossed the ball back into his court. “You?”
He would have rather spent twelve hours on his feet investigating a case than sitting at his desk for six battling paperwork.
“Mostly forgot stuff,” he told her. He glanced at his watch. It was after six. “Did you have dinner?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes were back on the screen, devouring everything she saw. “Olga brought over a casserole. She said to tell you it’s in the refrigerator. It’s in the refrigerator.”
He laughed as he got up again. “Thanks, kid,” Colin said, kissing the top of her head. “I knew I could count on you.”
Colin was halfway to the kitchen when he heard Heather suddenly scream. In hindsight, it was more of a squeal, but at the time, he wasn’t differentiating. He pivoted on his heel and raced back into the living room.
“What’s wrong?” Colin asked, alert and looking in all directions at once. Heather wasn’t the type to scream under normal circumstances. Something had either set her off or frightened her.
“Look!” Heather cried, pointing to the TV. “It’s you!”
The words were partially muffled because she had her hands over her mouth in utter surprise even as she talked. “You’re on TV.” Her head appeared to almost swivel as she looked from the image on the screen to her uncle and then back again. Her eyes were huge as she took in his TV image. “You didn’t tell me you were on TV!”
“I didn’t know,” he answered, staring at the screen. The interview he’d given Ellie King this morning was being run on the evening news. “I mean, I wasn’t supposed to be until I gave my final approval.”
Heather had scrambled up to her knees and was staring at the image as if she had never seen her uncle before. She hardly heard him.
“You didn’t tell me you met Ellie King.” It was almost an accusation, as if he had kept a vital piece of information from her. “You know her?” she cried in complete wonder.
“No.” But that wasn’t entirely true. “I mean, not until this morning.”
And just like that, the piece they were watching on the air was over.
“Where’s the remote?” he asked Heather.
“I don’t know. It was here,” she said, distracted. The remote was barely on her radar. “Can I meet her?”
He was focused on finding the elusive remote. He pushed the cushions around until he finally found what he was looking for half buried under the last cushion. He extracted it, then pointed the device at the set as he pressed the rewind button.
Images did an awkward dance, moving backward until he got to the beginning of the piece.
“Meet who?” he finally asked, still looking at the TV monitor.
“Ellie King,” Heather told him impatiently. “Can I meet her?”
Bringing the woman around for introductions was the last thing on his mind right now. He was annoyed, not because his vanity had been offended but because she’d lied to him. He hated being lied to.
“We’ll see.”
“Please, Uncle Colin,” Heather begged. “She’s just everything I want to be. Pretty and smart and she gets to do all these really great stories—”
Heather abruptly fell silent as the interview
began from the beginning again.
Colin winced as he watched himself. He supposed that it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it was, but it still made him feel awkward. And he was still annoyed.
He didn’t wait for the end of the piece this time. He tossed the remote back on the sofa next to Heather.
Taking the card that the reporter had given him out of his pocket, he pulled his cell phone out of his other pocket and proceeded to dial the number on the card.
He was bracing himself for an ordeal. He figured that he was going to have to verbally strong-arm his way to getting someone to either put Ellie King on the line or give him her number. He wasn’t about to hang up without getting either satisfaction or the number.
Having worked himself up, Colin wasn’t prepared to hear her voice.
“This is Ellie King. May I help you?” When no one responded, she said, “Hello, is anyone there?”
“This is Detective Benteen,” Colin said, finally finding his voice.
She hadn’t expected to hear from him so soon, but she should have known. The man had struck her as being on top of things. She knew he was calling about the segment they’d just aired.
She decided to get ahead of this before he tried to run her over. “Hello, Detective. We had to air your segment tonight.”
“Had to?” he questioned.
She didn’t really owe him an explanation. After all, he was a public servant and this had been done in the service of the public. The public had a right to know. But she had made him a promise, so she felt the need to explain why she’d gone back on it.
“I know I promised that you’d have the final say, but I’ve got people I answer to and they insisted that the segment go on tonight as is. It turned out pretty well, I thought.” She crossed her fingers that he saw it that way, too.
“You lied to me.” It wasn’t an accusation but a flat statement. It carried with it not anger but a note of genuine disappointment. And that made her feel worse than if he’d launched into a tirade.
“I didn’t lie,” she replied. “I had every intention of showing you the clip first.” When he said nothing, she felt uncomfortable, despite the fact that this ultimately wasn’t really her fault. “The station manager wanted to air it before the other stations got it. I’m sorry, but these things happen. Listen, if you want me to make it up to you—” she began, not really certain where this would ultimately go.
He cut her short with two words. “I do.”
Chapter Five
I do.
The detective’s words echoed in her head for a moment.
Okay, what had she just gotten herself into, Ellie wondered. She really hadn’t expected the man on the other end of the line to take her up on her offer, especially since it was so vague. Now she had no idea what to say to solidify the offer—or more accurately, to rescind it, which was what she really wanted to do.
But since she had made the offer and the detective had said yes, she had no choice but to at least hear him out and find out what he had in mind. She could always say no.
Taking a breath, Ellie did her best to sound cheerful as she asked, “How?”
“Do you remember that niece I mentioned when you interviewed me?”
His voice seemed to rumble against her ear, like the sound of thunder. She could feel it reverberating within her chest.
“Yes, I remember,” Ellie said uncertainly.
Colin was watching Heather out of the corner of his eye. She was on her knees on the sofa and it seemed as if his niece had frozen in midmovement, completely riveted to the conversation he was having with the reporter she so obviously idolized.
Giving Heather an encouraging smile, he told Ellie, “She’d like to meet you.”
“Oh?” Was that all? Ellie felt a flood of relief. She hadn’t exactly known what to expect, but life had taught her these last two years always to expect the worst. This was definitely not the worst, not even close. “Sure, that would be very nice,” she told him. “Where and when?”
“Well, considering the fact that we both have busy careers and Heather has school, how about sometime this weekend? Is that doable for you?” He’d anticipated some sort of in-depth negotiation. This was turning out to be easier than he’d thought. Maybe the gorgeous reporter did have a really nice side to her after all.
Ellie paused, doing a quick review in her head. So far, she had nothing planned for the weekend. “I’m not sure I can bring you and her around the studio for a tour this weekend—”
Now that he had put it out there and saw the hopeful look on Heather’s face, he wasn’t about to accept a rejection. “Then how about coming over to my place?”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, he realized that sounded like a come-on and far too intimate for an innocent meeting. She’d think it was a ploy on his part—and maybe at one time, it might have been. But this was for Heather and he wasn’t about to disappoint his niece if he could help it. This was the first time he’d seen the girl excited about anything since she’d come to live with him.
“Or we could meet you at a coffee shop,” Colin suggested.
“Didn’t you say she was ten? Isn’t that a little young for coffee?” Ellie asked, wondering if the detective was telling her the truth—or if he had something else in mind by way of her making up for the unapproved aired segment.
“Yes, she’s ten, but Heather has an old soul. Besides, this coffee shop serves hot chocolate, as well.” Thinking the woman probably preferred everything on her terms, he told her, “Or you choose the location if my picking one makes you uncomfortable.”
Was he insinuating that she was afraid to meet him? Half a dozen half-formed thoughts crowded her head extrapolating on that.
Ellie suppressed a sigh. She really missed the days when things were simpler and more transparent.
“A coffee shop is fine,” she told him. “Name the place and the time. If I’m not on a story, I’ll be there.”
She was giving herself an out, Colin thought. He supposed he could appreciate that. But his foremost thought was of Heather, not the dark-haired reporter with the killer legs.
“And if you are?” he asked.
“Then I’ll call—and reschedule,” Ellie said simply.
“Sounds reasonable,” Colin replied. “How does Saturday, ten o’clock, at Josie’s Café sound?” he asked.
“Reasonable,” Ellie said, using the same word he just had.
He began to give her the café’s address and only got partway through.
“I know where it is,” Ellie told him.
“Great. Then we’ll see you then—barring rescheduling,” Colin added for the woman’s benefit.
Sensing that the next sound she was going to hear was the call being terminated, Ellie said, “Wait.”
“Something else?” Colin asked.
She was probably going to regret this, Ellie thought, but she asked the question anyway. “What did you think of it?”
“You mean the segment you aired without my okay?”
She wasn’t about to apologize again. She’d already told him why she’d had to go ahead with it, so she just skipped over that and went directly to her answer. “Yes. The segment—what did you think of it?”
Colin paused, then told her, “You look good on camera.”
His answer caught her off guard. For just one second, she wondered if he really thought that. The next second, she shut the thought away, telling herself that didn’t matter one way or another. She wanted to get his reaction to the segment.
“That’s not what I’m asking and you know it. I’m asking if you liked the segment.” Not waiting for an answer, she quickly emphasized, “I didn’t misrepresent you or trivialize you. Actually, I think you came off quite heroically. As a matter of fact, I’d be surpr
ised if this piece doesn’t get you a few groupies.”
When she’d watched the segment as it aired, she’d caught herself thinking he came off rather compelling as well as damn good-looking. Everything that was required by a hero of the moment.
“I’m not interested in groupies,” he told her, dismissing her comment.
She really found that difficult to believe, given his age and his looks. Ellie decided to push that a little. Whether she was playing devil’s advocate or trying to see just how genuine this detective was, she wasn’t all that sure. She knew only that she wanted to hear Colin’s answer, for reasons that she wasn’t making clear to herself.
“A good-looking man like you?” she scoffed. “I find that very difficult to believe.”
“Maybe in another life, I might have been interested,” he allowed. “But I have a niece to raise now,” he reminded her.
The man sounded a bit too noble, but who knew? For now, she didn’t have any more time to wonder about him. Another story had come up on her schedule and needed her attention.
“I’ll see you on Saturday,” she told Colin pleasantly.
“See who on Saturday?” Jerry asked just as she hung up the phone on her desk.
She hadn’t heard the cameraman come up behind her. “You need to get squeaky shoes,” she told him. When he gave her a look that said he wasn’t about to be distracted, she answered his question. “That detective we did the story on today.”
“To finally tell him how you’re connected?” Jerry asked, curious. “Good for you. Did he call to tell you that he was having trouble placing you but that your name was sticking out for some reason?”
“No, he didn’t,” she said, trying not to get annoyed.
“Then why did he call?”
“He wants me to meet his niece.”
Jerry dropped into the chair opposite her desk. Even sitting, he towered over her. “How’s that again?” he asked, confused.
She gave him an instant replay. “The detective called, not very happy that we went ahead with the story without his okay—”
“The way you promised him,” Jerry interjected, nodding his head.
Twice a Hero, Always Her Man Page 5
