Always Yesterday

by Jeri Odell

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  From the Author

  Dedication

  Copyright

  ISBN 978-1-59789-868-3

  © 2008 by Jeri Odell. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Chapter 1

  A searing pain tore through Eli Logan’s left shoulder. Warm blood trailed down his chest. Woozy, he grabbed for something—anything—to hold on to. Stumbling toward the warehouse wall, he leaned against it for support. He searched for any sign of his assailant but only caught sight of his partner’s pale face and terror-filled eyes. Bernadette had frozen when he needed her most.

  The throbbing in his shoulder increased with each erratic breath. Eli holstered his gun and placed his right hand over the bullet wound, feeling a soggy shirt beneath his fingers. “Call for an ambulance!” he yelled at his middle-aged partner, who still hadn’t moved. The growing red stain soaking his shirt meant he was losing blood at a quick pace. His knees gave way, and a black fog fought to overpower him. He slid down the wall and hit the ground with a thud. “Dear God, help me.”

  Eli jerked to a sitting position, sweat drenching him. He touched his left shoulder, expecting blood but finding only a three-month-old scar. Would this nightmare never stop? Untangling himself from the sheets, he headed for the kitchen and a cold drink of water. When would he ever get a full night’s sleep again?

  His hand trembled when he took the glass from the cupboard. Outside the window a full moon shone overhead, illuminating a cloudless Nevada sky. He filled his glass and let the cool liquid slide down his parched throat. Inhaling deeply, he attempted to slow his pounding heart and calm his breathing.

  The clock mocked him. Five minutes after three. Maybe he could still catch a few more hours of shut-eye. Of course, he doubted he’d accomplish that feat. Once the nightmare awoke him, the adrenaline surging through his body guaranteed his day started now.

  Lying back down, he stared at the ceiling. Was he ready for tomorrow—his first day back at work since the shooting? He’d undergone surgery, physical therapy, and counseling. All of the professionals said he was good to go, but he remained unconvinced, though he’d never verbalized his doubts. No, I can do this. I will do this!

  “At least I won’t have a woman partner anymore.” He mumbled the fact aloud to reassure himself. “Some guy named Delaney.” That news brought relief. Women were pleasant to look at, maybe even fun to date once in a while, but they didn’t belong on the force. Nor did they belong in his life. He just wished he wasn’t so attracted to the pretty ones.

  There were three women in his life he’d counted on, and none of them came through when he needed them most. When he was twelve, his mother taught him his first hard lesson about the fairer sex. She packed up and left the day after his sixteen-year-old brother’s funeral. Ronny died of a drug overdose. She said she wasn’t hanging around to watch Eli do the same. He’d lost both his mother and his brother in a week, and God had done nothing to intervene. So for almost two decades it had been just him and his old man, and his dad had spent most of those eighteen years in a drunken stupor. But he was all the family Eli had, and he loved his dad, tried to watch out for him—at least as much as his dad allowed.

  Eli turned his pillow over and punched it, longing to forget, longing to sleep, but the memories kept coming. Amy—his one and only love, or so he thought—taught him lesson number two. She didn’t want him; she wanted his best friend. When he caught them together, he walked away from the pair and never looked back, but he never recovered either. By seventeen he’d learned three hard truths: You can’t count on God, you can’t count on family, and you can’t count on friends.

  And let’s not forget Bernadette. Good ol’ Bernie. She’d grown tired of the traffic scene and wanted more excitement. Well, she’d gotten her wish—only she couldn’t handle the thrill. Now that she was restricted to a desk job at the precinct, cruising around writing tickets probably didn’t seem so boring to her anymore.

  ❧

  “Sarge, I’m here.” Eli rounded the corner into the sergeant’s office a few hours later, but his chair sat empty. A movement by the window caught Eli’s attention, and there stood one fine-looking woman. His breath caught in his throat, and had he not been trained to school his emotions, he’d have stood there gawking. Sarge, how do you do it? She must be half your age and a real looker—something you’re definitely not.

  “Hi.” The velvet-voiced, honey-haired woman crossed the room, her hand extended. “As you probably guessed, Joe stepped out for a moment. He should be back any second.” Turquoise eyes welcomed him, and her sincere smile relayed openness. Her fresh looks appealed to him, and when his big hand swallowed her small one, he felt something akin to voltage pass between them. “I’m—”

  “Good. You two have met. That’ll save me time on introductions.” Sergeant Joe Wood stepped through the office door. His large frame dwarfed the petite beauty standing next to Eli. Though a great guy, Sarge had some rough edges. What must have intrigued the sergeant was obvious—perfect, petite features in a natural presentation and eyes that reminded Eli of the tranquil waters of the Caribbean.

  “We haven’t actually met,” she corrected. “I was just about to introduce myself when you walked in.”

  As Sarge settled into his squeaky chair, Eli again found himself drinking in all he could of her face. If he ever decided to look for a woman, one like her couldn’t be more perfect—small, feminine, and au naturel. But of course he had no plan of ever looking for a woman.

  “I’m Delanie Cooper.”

  He dropped her hand as if it had suddenly transfigured into a poisonous snake. Delanie? This can’t be! He turned to face Sarge with an accusing stare. “This isn’t. . .”

  Sarge nodded, confirming Eli’s suspicions. “Eli Logan, meet Delanie Cooper, your new partner.”

  “No way!” Eli moved toward the gray metal desk. He bent over until he and Sarge were eye level. “Absolutely no way!” He glared into Sarge’s small, round eyes.

  “I told you on the phone you’d been reassigned.”

  “When you said my new partner was Delanie, I thought you meant like Tony Delaney or Sam Delaney—not Delanie as in a female!” His voice rose, as did his frustration level. “I won’t work with another woman.” Eli crossed his arms over his chest to underscore the determination of his words.

  “You don’t have a choice, pal. I call the shots.”

  “Then I’ll go over your head.” Eli headed for the door, turning just before his exit. “I’ll go all the way to the chief of police if I have to.” Reality struck him with a force that stopped him dead in his tracks. “You’re Frank Cooper’s daughter, aren’
t you?” He’d heard the chief had one on the force.

  Delanie nodded.

  So much for plan B. How could he tell his superior he refused to work with his daughter? He glared at Sarge and shook his head. “Why? Why are you doing this? You know how I feel about women cops.”

  “Delanie is one of the best we have. She’s intelligent, quick—”

  “She’s barely five feet and a hundred pounds. What if I’m wounded and need her to carry me out of the middle of gang crossfire?”

  “I know what happened with your last partner.” Delanie’s velvet voice no longer sounded like a caress; now it just irritated Eli. “But I’ve never frozen, and I don’t think I ever will. I’m strong as an ox and promise I’ll work hard not to let you down.”

  “Have you ever been face-to-face with a forty-five and a guy on the other end who wanted you dead? Let me assure you, talk is cheap.” He doubted she’d ever faced more than a routine traffic stop.

  “Not only have I looked down a barrel at close range, I took the guy’s legs out from under him with a sweep.” The two of them stood in a face-off, both refusing to back down. Her eyes lost their serenity and now reminded him of a stormy sea at sunset, but he refused to be impressed by her looks or her claims.

  “Eli.” Sarge’s voice came from right beside Eli, but he didn’t break eye contact with Ms. Cooper; she didn’t blink an eye either. “Delanie is a black belt in Kajukenbo. She can take care of herself. You, my friend, have a new partner and an assignment that starts tomorrow. You go home now and think long and hard about this decision. Either you show up tomorrow and join Delanie undercover, or you empty your locker, pal.” Sarge pushed his way between them and forced their gazes to break.

  Anger coursed through Eli like rapids in a river. How could he walk away when this job had been his life for the past ten years? How could he walk away when his sole purpose had become avenging his brother’s death by ridding Reno of drug lords?

  “I’ll be here,” he promised, walking to the door. Pausing, he directed his parting words at Delanie. “And you’d better hope you’re a good cop, because if you’re not, it won’t matter whose daughter you are.”

  His long strides carried him down the narrow hall to the exit. Once outside, he sucked in a huge breath of fresh air. Delanie Cooper had better watch her step, because he’d covered more than one error for Bernadette, and where had that gotten him? He touched his shoulder, remembering.

  Slipping on his sunglasses, Eli trekked across the parking lot toward his hog. He’d balked at having a female partner since the day he’d left the academy. He’d watched them, and they weren’t as strong or as capable out on the field. Sure, most could shoot well enough; many were better marksmen than he, but they were too emotional for a job that required a cool head and decisive action. Bernadette proved his theory when she forgot her training, gave in to fear, and nearly got him killed.

  Eli slipped on his helmet and straddled his bike. Pulling out onto Second, he headed for Virginia Street, making himself a promise: Delanie Cooper wouldn’t be the fourth woman on his list to fail him. The next fiasco might cost him his life, and he wasn’t willing to pay that high a price. A few mess-ups and he’d be rid of her. Eli Logan never broke promises to anyone, and he wouldn’t break this one to himself either.

  ❧

  Delanie glanced from Joe to the door and back again. “Well, your warning that Eli might resent my assignment as his partner now seems a bit understated.”

  “I told you he had issues.” Joe settled back into his chair.

  “Issues? The man’s a woman-hater.” Delanie claimed the green vinyl chair facing Joe.

  “He’s really a great guy. Has a lot of strength as a cop. Probably one of the best on the force.”

  “You couldn’t prove it by me.” Delanie shrugged. “But I don’t think I’m the answer to your dilemma. How am I going to help him?” She leaned forward, waiting to hear.

  “You’re not the answer, Delanie. God is. The police psychologist believes the only way Eli will get past his fear and find true healing is to pair him with a strong, dependable female partner. I chose you because you not only fit the description, but you also have a strong faith in God. You see, I only agree with the psychologist to a point. True healing comes from one source and one source only—God. You can barely get through a sentence without your faith spilling into the conversation. Eli needs a strong dose of what you have to offer.”

  “That’s a big order, Joe. What if I fail him? What if I let him down, too? I’m only human and have lots of room for error.”

  “I prayed long and hard about finding the right partner for Eli. I’m convinced you’re the one for the assignment, so I’ll trust that whatever happens is part of God’s plan to draw Eli to Himself.” Joe tapped his pencil against his desk several times as if to underscore his words.

  “I sure hope you’re right.” Delanie let out a long, slow breath. This assignment looked as if it would be the toughest one she’d had to date. Not the police work, but the friendship evangelism assignment that came with it. How could a woman befriend a woman-hater and lead him to Christ?

  God, this one is up to You. I’m willing, but You’ll have to handle all the details. And, Lord, I’m sorry I let Eli goad me into a contest of wills. So far on this assignment I’ve crashed and burned. I failed as a shining light pointing to You.

  “I’m going to take off. I’ll see you in the morning.” Delanie rose and strode to the door. “Do you think he’ll be here?”

  “Eli—he’ll be here, all right. He’s a cop through and through. It’s all he knows, and frankly, it’s his whole life.”

  The news made Delanie a little sad. Being a police officer was a great job, even a wonderful ministry, but someone’s entire life? She needed to know more about Eli. An idea formed.

  “Where does he live?”

  “Eli?” Joe’s wrinkled brow verified his confusion at the abrupt subject change.

  “Yeah, Eli.” She grinned at Joe’s perplexed look.

  “What difference does that make?” His brows drew even closer together.

  “I want to get a feel for him. Drive through his neighborhood and try to understand this new partner of mine.”

  “He won’t appreciate you snooping around.”

  “Too bad. He’s not willing to sit down with me, get to know me, work out our differences.”

  “He lives in an apartment—off Ralston just north of I-80.”

  The news surprised her. “Why? I know the pay’s low, but not that low. He could live in a better area than that.”

  “Two reasons. To keep a pulse on the drug activity in the area and to befriend young boys in his neighborhood, hoping to help keep them off drugs and out of gangs.” The admiration in Joe’s voice was apparent.

  “So Mr. Logan has a caring side.” Delanie considered this new information. At least it made him almost human.

  “Not for you.”

  “No, not for me, but at least for someone.” She turned to leave; now she had a plan. “See ya,” she called over her shoulder on her way out Joe’s door.

  Delanie took the stairs to the second floor, pondering her new partner. She let out a long breath, feeling overwhelmed by the man. He was so negative, so antiwoman, and yet she couldn’t deny the interest she felt, the chemistry when their hands touched. It would take a lot of prayer to maintain a good frame of mind around him.

  She popped in to say hi to her dad and obtain more information regarding Mr. Logan. With her other partners, she’d spent time with them over coffee so she could get to know them. That wouldn’t be the case here. Whatever she wanted to know, she’d have to ferret out on her own. Her dad said little, except that Eli was a good man and a good cop. He did, however, provide her with Eli’s address.

  Leaving the precinct, Delanie drove straight to Eli’s stomping grounds. After a little searching, she found parking curbside a half block or so from his apartment building—the place Eli called home. It was
old and somewhat decrepit, certainly in need of work. Parking down a bit, she smiled as she thought how conspicuous she was in a sports car, even a white one. Hers was not a nondescript surveillance car at all. She watched people come and go. Many were Hispanic and young kids.

  Eli exited, wearing sweats and a sleeveless shirt and bouncing a basketball. A group of ten or so boys who looked to be junior high age surrounded him. His hair, almost black and slightly too long, glistened in the sun. Laughter filled the air as he and the boys wrestled over the ball. The scruffy beard that looked like several days’ growth still covered his jawline and chin, but somehow it added to his rugged attractiveness. For Delanie, seeing his playful side and watching his interaction with the boys made him all the more appealing.

  He glanced in her direction once but apparently didn’t see her. Delanie waited until he was a half block away, then followed on foot. At Eleventh Street Eli and his entourage made a left. Delanie jogged to catch up. Unfamiliar with the neighborhood, she had no idea where they were headed.

  Just before she rounded the corner where Eli had turned, someone grabbed her from behind. Muscular arms wrapped around her neck and waist, holding her in a choke hold. Don’t panic! Stay calm! Immediately all of her senses were alert, alive. She sucked hard to take in a breath; the arm across her throat made it difficult. Why hadn’t she been paying attention to her surroundings? As a cop, she knew better, especially in this neighborhood. She’d wait. Sooner or later this guy would make a mistake, and she’d make her move. Heart pounding, she prayed for help.

  Chapter 2

  Sarge didn’t tell me your nickname was Coop the Snoop.”

  Eli knew the moment Delanie recognized his voice—some of the tension left her body, and she relaxed a little, but not completely. He loosened his hold the slightest bit, and she inhaled a gulp of air. He didn’t want to notice the smell of her—clean with a hint of lavender—or the touch of her—small and soft in his arms—but neither eluded him.

  What is it about this woman? He released her, needing to put space between them. She swung around and, using her legs, swept his out from under him. He hit the ground—hard. Dazed, he replayed the last few seconds. One instant he was contemplating her femininity, and the next he was sprawled out on the pavement with a throbbing head and an aching back, listening to a group of boys chuckling somewhere nearby. He’d never hear the end of this from them.