Richardson was impressed, as he should be. John was two years younger than Scarlet, but he’d already made a name for himself. He was not only a detective, but many saw him rising through the ranks. He had a certain charm, but not politician-slimy charm. He was attractive and brave and decorated. One of the good guys.
“I’m sorry about that, but it’s protocol.”
“All’s forgiven.”
“You’ll call me if Jones contacts you.”
“Of course.” And if she found out Jason had lied to her about anything, she’d hit him over the head and drag his ass down to the jail.
He already had one strike against him for omitting the very important fact that he and his partner had been doing the horizontal dance.
More than friends.
Scarlet had taken the comment to mean something different because partners were often more than simple friends. When you counted on someone to watch your back and save your ass every day you put on the uniform, it wasn’t just a friendship. More akin to soldiers in battle, especially in an urban city like L.A.
“Are we done here?” she asked the detective.
“For now.”
Scarlet went inside and locked the door. She used Leah’s phone to contact Krista. She didn’t know if the line was bugged—she doubted they’d get a warrant that fast, but she couldn’t be certain. “Hi, Krista, it’s Scarlet. What’s up?”
Krista paused. “Nothing much. You?”
Good, she was quick on the uptake. “I had a wild night. Thought I’d get extra sleep and got woken up by a SWAT team. Think you can come by and keep me company? What, twenty minutes to get here?”
“About that,” she said.
“See you then. And if you have a six pack of beer, bring it.”
~ ~ ~
By the time Krista arrived, all the cops were gone except for one patrol parked near the end of the street. Krista knocked on the door and Scarlett answered. Krista handed her a six-pack of Sierra Nevada. “I wasn’t sure if you were serious.”
“I’m always serious about beer.” She closed the door behind Krista and walked to the kitchen. She put the beer in the refrigerator, but pulled out two, handing one to Krista.
Krista took it and said, “Spill it.”
“Jason is in deep trouble and I might have made a mistake.” She told Krista everything.
Krista slowly lowered her head to the table. “Scarlet—”
“I believe Jason.”
Krista sighed, leaned back, and sipped her beer. “What’s your plan?”
“I don’t have one yet. Not a complete plan. First, I want to verify what Jason told me. I also need to talk to him, ask him about his relationship with Perez, and find out what the police know about the crime scene.”
“Scarlet, you’re playing a dangerous game here.”
“It’s not a game.”
“No, it’s not. It’s serious. You could lose your license. You could go to jail.”
Scarlet frowned. She knew it was serious, but at the same time, more than anyone, she understood that sometimes, when you were a cop, there was no one to turn to if someone wanted to destroy you. She didn’t know who had wanted her dead three years ago. Maybe they hadn’t wanted her dead, they’d just wanted her gone, off the force—and they’d won. She was gone. It’s why she couldn’t let it go. She’d done exactly what her attackers wanted.
“If Jason is guilty, I’ll bring him in. If he’s being set up—I have to help him.”
Krista nodded.
“And I want you to stay out of it.”
“We’re partners,” Krista reminded her.
“But if I lose my license, I don’t want it to come back on you.”
“I’m not turning my back on you. Or your friend.”
“Plausible deniability. And you’re juggling a bunch of things right now.”
Krista bit her lip. Scarlet used Krista’s workload to her advantage. She wasn’t going to risk her partner’s dream of making Moreno & Hart a success.
“You can do one thing for me,” Scarlet said.
“Bring you more beer?”
“Let me borrow your phone for the next couple of days.”
Chapter Three
Scarlet had debated staying in Leah’s house all night, but she had too much work to do to keep up the farce. She and Krista left after one that morning, and by the time Scarlet had dropped her partner off at her house and driven down to Newport Beach, it was two a.m.
She couldn’t sleep, so sat outside on her deck with her laptop and Krista’s cell phone. She’d already tried Jason twice and he didn’t answer, so she sent him a text message:
Call me ASAP at this number.
She was going to miss Mac helping with this case, but she had to keep him out of it as well or Krista couldn’t have plausible deniability. Mac was Moreno & Hart’s computer expert. He worked for them part-time, studied at Cal State Fullerton the rest of the time, and lived above Krista’s garage. When he graduated they’d probably lose him like they lost their first assistant—they couldn’t pay enough to keep anyone on board full-time.
She glanced at her phone every couple of minutes. Jason hadn’t called or texted back.
Dammit.
Scarlet looked up as much information as she could find on Jason Jones, Gina Perez, and their supervisor, Sergeant Tony Mercer.
If Jason was to be believed, Gina didn’t trust their supervisor, and she’d called Jason because she wanted to talk—she’d seen something she wasn’t supposed to, something that worried and scared her. Based on what else she told Jason, it must have been related to her supervisor, Mercer, who she thought was a dirty cop.
As a PI, Scarlet had access to some information databases that the general public either didn’t know existed or couldn’t access. She ran basic info on all three people, and while that was running in the background, she did a Google search on Mercer.
Thirty-six years old. Got his AA at Pierce College then enlisted in the Army after 9/11. He’d been honorably discharged with the rank of Private First Class. A typical background for a cop who moved quickly through the ranks—entering the police Academy was a natural transition from the military. In Scarlet’s experience, some of the best cops—and the worst cops—came from the military. Mercer had gone through the Academy, graduating in the top ten percent of his class; he’d started in the Devonshire district as a patrol officer, and after the minimum requisite time, he passed his Sergeant’s exam. He transferred to the Mission district and now supervised a squad. His ten-year cop anniversary was coming up.
Something tickled her in the back of her mind.
A month ago we were split up and assigned rookies.
Scarlet didn’t like that this pattern had been emerging. First her, then Jason. Were there others? She made a note to look into that after she resolved Jason’s situation.
Her partner, Detective Gabe Stone, had been devastated after the ambush. He’d spent as much time in her hospital room as her brother and father and Krista. He’d taught her everything she knew, and more, and blamed himself when he had done nothing to be blamed for. He was also the only one who seemed to believe her about the call, but shortly after she got out of the hospital, he’d retired early, at twenty-five years of service instead of thirty like he’d always planned. He moved his family to Arizona where he went back to school for his teaching credential and became a high school history teacher this past year.
She still missed him. He’d taught her more about investigating and trusting her instincts than any schooling. She wished she could call him now, talk this out, find out what he knew about Mercer, what he thought of Jason’s story.
She could practically hear him in her head: Trust your gut, Scar. Always trust your gut. It’ll save your life someday.
Jason was innocent. That’s what her gut told her.
She really wished he would return her call.
Scarlet dozed off, waking as the sun brightened the sky. She stretched, her neck
stiff from sleeping on the lounge chair. Her laptop was dead because she hadn’t put it on its charger. She went inside, plugged it in, and called Jason. Again.
No answer. Again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She was going to have to drive out to Topanga and make sure he was there, that he was safe, and ask him the hard questions.
And be prepared to haul him in.
Maybe, convince him to turn himself in.
She took a fast shower and Krista’s phone rang as soon as she stepped out. She wrapped a towel around her body and grabbed it before it went to voice mail.
“Hello?”
“Scarlet, it’s Krista. Your brother just called, wanting to know where you were because he can’t reach you on your cell phone.”
Why was John calling her? Had Richardson contacted him about last night?
“Thanks. I’ll call him.”
“I’m texting you my new number. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I don’t—not right now. But thanks.”
“I have your back, Scarlet.”
“I know you do.” She hung up, dressed quickly, and finger combed her shaggy brown hair. Then she called her brother.
“John, it’s your big sister.”
“Where’s your phone? I’ve been trying to call you all morning.”
“It’s only eight.”
“Scarlet—”
“Lighten up. I dropped it running on the beach. Sand and salt water don’t play nice with smart phones.”
“We need to meet—I just had a lengthy conversation with Kyle Richardson. He’s a detective out of the—”
“I met him last night.”
“He thinks you’re holding back.”
“What do you know about this case? This is Jason we’re talking about.”
“I know enough to know that you don’t housesit for Leah.”
She hesitated. “John—”
“Meet me at the diner near my station.”
“I’m busy right now. I’ll call you later.”
“Don’t you dare hang up—”
“I have a job, John. I know you don’t take it seriously, but I do.”
“Of course I take your job seriously, but—”
“I’ll come by Dad’s tonight, okay? Sunday dinner.”
“Scarlet—”
“See you then!” She hung up. Her brother always knew when she was lying.
Why had Kyle Richardson told John anything in the first place? Richardson might be in Special Operations ... most likely, because no one in the Mission district would be allowed to investigate the murder of one of their own cops. But he had to be fishing. If he had really thought she knew something more, he would have contacted her himself. Maybe he was just checking out her story, finding out about her past.
She turned to holster her gun when she saw someone climb onto her deck from the hidden ladder in the narrow space between her building and the next.
Alex.
She stomped out onto the deck. “I should never have told you about my secret entrance.”
“You haven’t returned my calls.”
“I broke my phone.”
Detective Alex Bishop worked for the Newport Beach Police Department. He was exactly the type of hot cop Scarlet was drawn to. That they had been seeing more of each other than not in the three weeks since they first met hadn’t been a big deal at first … but Scarlet hadn’t had any relationship this long since she broke up with her fiancé three years ago.
“There’s chatter about a cop who killed another cop in LAPD, and your name came up.”
“What chatter?” And how could it get out in the ten hours since she’d talked to Detective Richardson?
“A detective from LAPD called Lieutenant Riley and he wanted me to check in on you.”
“I’m fine.” She wrote out Krista’s phone number and handed it to him. “Here’s my temporary number.”
He took the number. “You know the cop they’re looking for.”
“Yes. SWAT stormed his sister’s house while I was there last night.”
“Why were you there?”
Scarlet hated lying to Alex. She really liked him. He was easy to like. And he put up with her many quirks. But she didn’t have a choice, not yet. She realized this was probably the end of their relationship because, eventually, the truth would come out. She couldn’t be sure that Alex would understand why she’d let Jason slip out, or why she’d lied to Detective Richardson. Alex was a good cop, and cops needed to uphold the truth. Uphold the law.
It made her surprisingly sad that she might lose him.
“Leah’s a flight attendant. I was checking on her place for her.”
He raised an eyebrow, assessing her. She kept her face blank. He couldn’t read her mind. She hoped.
“The same night that SWAT comes looking for her brother,” he said flatly.
“I know Jason. He’s not a killer.”
“The evidence is convincing.”
“How do you know? Have you seen it?” She was getting angry, and maybe this was for the best—push Alex away now before she hurt him. Or he hurt her. Or they hurt each other. Because people who cared also knew how to stab you in the gut.
She glared at him. “You know, the evidence against me was pretty damning three years ago when I was ambushed without back-up. No one believed that I had got the call to send me to the warehouse. So sorry if I don’t believe everything I hear.”
She picked up the keys to her Jeep. “I have work to do. See ya.”
Alex grabbed her arm as she passed him. He pulled her to him, held her. She could have broken free, but she was startled by the concern in his eyes. “You think I don’t understand you. You’re wrong.”
“I think you need to let go of me.”
He dropped her arm. “Let me help.”
“Honestly?”
“That would be nice.”
“Last night was the first time I heard that my friend Jason is in trouble. Jason and my brother were in the Academy together. I’ve known him and his sister for most of my life, so I’m going to find out what’s going on. Jason deserves the benefit of the doubt. Why? Because he stood by me three years ago when nearly everyone else on the force turned their backs. He’s not only a good cop, he’s a good friend.” All that was true. Good. She didn’t want to lie to Alex any more than she had to.
You’re lying to protect him, remember that.
Yep, keep telling yourself that, Moreno.
Alex grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her in for a kiss. It was hard and hot and for a minute Scarlet forgot everything she planned to do. She might have even forgotten her name.
Her hands shot up and while she intended to push him back, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his perfect body. Hard, but not too bulky. Tall, but not too tall. Fit, but not obsessively so. If she didn’t have a place to be, she’d have unzipped his pants and seduced him into a satisfying round of morning sex. It wouldn’t take much seduction.
She stepped back, caught her breath. “I’ll call you tonight.”
He stared at her, his face unreadable.
“Be careful, Scarlet.”
“Always.”
Chapter Four
Scarlet made sure no one was following her. She didn’t think Alex would, though she knew he was concerned. Maybe a little suspicious. But knowing that Richardson had called her brother and Hank Riley, she wondered if he might have put a tail on her.
She drove to Starbucks for coffee, though it was a habit she was trying to break. Not caffeine, but spending the money instead of brewing a cheap pot. But it was Sunday, she deserved the pick-me-up. And a muffin.
She drove to the beach, got out and sat on her hood and watched the waves while drinking her coffee. She read articles about Tony Mercer on her smart phone. Cops might be highlighted once or twice in the paper, if that—most cops wanted to stay out of the press. Usually press about cops was bad. But Mercer had doze
ns of mentions. Accommodations, speaking on behalf of the department—even though he wasn’t the public affairs officer—speaking to rotary clubs and other such organizations. He was the regular Good Will Ambassador of the Valley.
It made her twitch.
She found nothing inherently dirty, but she didn’t expect to. She feared her faith in Jason was clouding her judgment.
Not for the first time, she considered calling Gabe. She missed her old partner, but they hadn’t talked since he moved. She didn’t blame him for cutting ties.
She would definitely ask her dad tonight, but he wouldn’t talk dirt about any cop. Especially if he thought she was digging into something that would get her into trouble. Yet, when push came to shove, her dad always did what was right. He would support her. She had to believe that.
After fifteen minutes, Scarlet had assessed every car in a three-hundred-sixty degree radius. She didn’t see a tail, but she still drove through three different neighborhoods. By the time she took a back way to the Pacific Coast Highway toward the Santa Monica Mountains, she was confident she wasn’t being followed.
She needed straight answers from Jason, and then she’d know what to do.
She should never have lied to Detective Richardson. What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t. She had been reacting based on emotion, not logic. She’d taken a life-long childhood friend and put him on a pedestal. She’d believed him, hands down—believed he was in danger, believed he was innocent, believed he’d been set up. Either he was telling the truth, or she was the biggest sucker on the planet and she’d helped a killer escape. That he hadn’t returned her text messages or calls made her squeamish.
Scarlet was glad she’d told Krista to stay out of this. Her friend would do anything for her, and she loved her for it, but this was Scarlet’s decision. She was willing to risk her license, and possible jail time, because Jason was her friend. She wouldn’t jeopardize Krista’s future.
Topanga Canyon, in the Santa Monica Mountains, hadn’t changed much over the years. It had been spared much of the development in the Valley because most of the area had strict building regulations. While it had become a haven for artists and musicians, it was also the haven for drugs and subversive lifestyles. Diego’s rental wasn’t the only meth lab shut down in the area. His house was in the heart of Topanga Canyon, a small 1960s cabin with two bedrooms and one bath. It had never been updated, which meant no dishwasher and no microwave. She’d left behind a small portable microwave and wondered if it was still here. The meth lab had been in the garage that a previous owner had built without a permit and Diego had paid to bring up to code.
Hit and Run (Moreno & Hart Mysteries) Page 3
