by KH LeMoyne
At least she hadn’t been the arresting officer. On the other hand, she hadn’t closed the case and secured the consent needed to prosecute. Whether her fellow officers expected performance from her didn’t matter. She enacted her own personal standards, and today, she’d failed.
Her phone buzzed, and she tipped it to read the number. With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair and slid her thumb across the surface to answer the call. It was going to be one of those days that flaunted her failures.
“Ms. Leggett.”
Detective. Detective, she thought with a sense of humor. Was it really so hard for people to remember, or was she just not the right image for the title? “Margaret. What’s wrong?”
“Are there other police officers stationed at the high school because of—well, you know, last night?”
Dani sat up straight. “What are you talking about? And give me details.”
She knew most of the two dozen officers reporting to Baransky. Hell, she knew most of the officers working in all four jurisdictions that she covered. Discreetly, she leaned her elbows on her desk and angled her head down as she canvassed the room for the ones around her. Then she rechecked her computer to see who was on duty.
“They’re wearing suits, except the colors are odd.” Margaret’s voice dropped. “The fabric’s shiny. One suit looked almost dark purple. I wouldn’t have paid attention if they didn’t stand out so much. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, keep going.” It didn’t make sense that Margaret had connected the men to her case. But Dani trusted the girl’s honed instincts. She was right. Flashy and brash didn’t blend well with rural and farmland.
“I saw the two men after the last bell rang. They searched through the kids, and a teacher stopped them. The school has a policy where adults have to check in, but I haven’t seen them leave yet.”
All schools had policies and they were getting more rigid each day to protect kids from adults and other kids. She closed the computer file on last night’s incident, confident none of the sheriff’s men had worked the case. All precincts required an online notation by either the officer or the dispatcher to update an open file with an officer’s participation. Nothing existed on either Tammy’s or Margaret’s files.
In all likelihood, the men were probably private investigators hired by the defendants’ lawyer. But aside from it being unethical to stalk a victim on high school grounds, it was also illegal.
Frowning, Dani glanced at the time on the lower corner of her computer monitor. Four thirty? “Are you still at school?”
There was a long pause before Margaret answered. “Sort of.”
“I work in yes and no,” Dani said as she shut down her station and grabbed her jacket. The whole time, she wanted to ask why the girl hadn’t called her father, except she didn’t want her to drop the call if she was in a vulnerable or dangerous situation. “Tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you.”
“I don’t want you to—oh, I see them. They have the only shiny red car in the parking lot.”
Dani turned as Hank glanced her way, avoiding eye contact as she rushed from the building. “Margaret, can they see you?”
“No. I’m behind a tree. But I can see them, and I think I can get the license plate.”
Oh, heaven save her from a born-again Nancy Drew. Dani slid into her cruiser and snapped her Bluetooth on to keep the call open. “Listen. Don’t do anything. Just stay where they can’t see you and tell me where you are.”
“I’m not going to get caught.” Mildly petulant, Margaret’s huff was audible and a little offended across the cell connection. “My eyesight’s better than theirs. But if you follow the road that loops around the school gym, there’s a field at the end bordered by a fence and tree line.”
“On the north side, close to where your dad lives.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t move. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Are you hanging up?”
“No, honey. I just might not answer because I’m paying attention to traffic.” And breaking the speed limit. No point in laying that on the teen. “Care to tell me why you’re hanging around in the field so long after school?”
“Just because.”
Hmmm. “Look, I’ve got to ask this. Why didn’t you call your dad? I suspect he’d have come immediately.”
“That’s the problem. You have access to stuff and can legally do things he can’t. I don’t want my dad to get in trouble because of me. I don’t want to leave our home here either.”
A strange response. The first part, Dani had suspected. The second resonated of secrets. Secrets Mr. Barduc hadn’t disclosed and perhaps the reason he was adamant about Margaret’s anonymity. “I’ve turned onto the road and can see the tree line. Where are you?”
A movement caught her eye from beyond the farthest clash of tree limbs. The girl’s black on black almost blended with the autumn brown, rust, and gold. The pink parts of her hair didn’t.
Dani pulled her cruiser over, off the road’s edge, and gestured for Margaret to get in the car. She turned off the vehicle, though, prepared to clear the air on a few issues.
The girl handed her a folded piece of paper. She opened it with a blink of surprise. “Is this them?”
The rough sketches, scattered over the page, provided two profile shots of men with shoulder-length hair, large heads, heavy cheekbones, and prominent lips. Had someone described those features verbally, the image stood a chance of beauty. Given the other sketches capturing large physiques with hands to match, they appeared more like hired muscle and not European models. Either way, Margaret’s artistic abilities and her instincts were on target.
Dani pointed at the scribbled number in the sheet’s bottom corner and activated her police laptop, glancing at the girl as she initiated the call. “The license plate number?”
“Yes.”
They both waited as the search brought up a listing for a rental agency at the Minot airport. “Not cops and not local. I’ll take your sketch and run it through the system to see if I can pull up a match, if you don’t mind me keeping this?”
Margaret let out a low whistle and shook her head. “I mean, I’m fine with that.”
“For clarification, were you afraid of your father’s reaction toward you if you told him? Or how he might retaliate?”
“My dad would never hurt me. Or any of us. Shifted or not, he’s always careful with us. Not like my mom.” She averted her eyes.
Evidently, in Margaret’s opinion, Mom hadn’t wasted attention or concern on her children. However, she must have done something right for Chisholm to overlook her faults and have several children. Why that bothered her, Dani didn’t want to consider. “Have you seen him shift like you do?”
“Not like me.” Margaret looked back, her laugh light and amused, back in keeping with her age. “My dad’s not a leopard.”
Then how—ah, perhaps only the girl’s mother was a shifter. And here she was thinking everyone was hiding a tendency toward fur and fangs.
“He’s a lion. Really big, very furry, and with these paws—” Margaret held her hands a foot apart and squinted, then adjusted her hands farther apart. “He could have taken those men and the boys last night out like that.” She snapped her fingers and whipped her hand aside.
Unable to breathe, Dani stared at Margaret, not hiding her shock.
Fortunately, the girl sighed without noticing and started to reach for the door handle. “Thanks for helping me.”
“I’ll take you home.”
Silence.
“I’m good walking,” she said after a moment.
“Please don’t mistake my offer for an open discussion.” She stared at Margaret for a second, then at the artist’s pad in her lap. Several pencils stuck out of her black denim jacket. An assorted collection, fat and thin, not the yellow number-two kind, with assorted hues denoted by the variations of gray at the end. “You sketch as well as some of the crime scene artists I knew in
college.”
Margaret glanced back, wide-eyed. “You really think so?”
“Definitely. Is that what you do out here? I’m guessing this is a habit, or your dad would pick up on you taking two extra hours to get home.”
She bit her lip, dropped her head, and gave Dani’s day-old coffee cup in the holder a quarter turn. “It’s quiet out here. I love my family, but out here—it’s peaceful.”
“Yeah, and in a week it’ll be so peaceful you’ll freeze to death.” Dani pulled her own jacket closer. “Like low single digits after sunset.”
“I won’t feel the cold.”
Unable to process teenage shifter complications, Dani left out the lecture on safety for a less confrontational topic. Her dad’s stories from his life on the beat always boiled down to one key point—pick your battles carefully. Better yet, don’t have any. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re taking the bus home instead of spending time out here alone.”
“The bus is for dweebs. It’s not like I fit in.”
“You might not believe this, but high school is tough on a lot of kids. And your dad didn’t strike me as the type to hold you on a tight leash. I imagine he’d find a quiet place for you to retreat if you talked to him.”
“I don’t want him focusing on me. Teenagers do stuff, but his mind goes nuts worrying. He already works too hard to make us feel normal.” The last seemed added almost as an afterthought, and she had the good grace to blush at her admission. “There was another reason I called you.”
With warning bells ringing in Dani’s head, she managed to hold back her groan. Bait and switch. How did she not see this coming? Not that strange men at school wasn’t a legitimate reason to call, but based on the drawing, it was obvious Margaret could have avoided them and delivered the evidence later.
“My dad is giving me a party. Sort of a debutant barbeque for my new mad skills. I was hoping you could come.” Margaret lifted her hands, waving nervous circles in the air. “I know we aren’t friends or anything, but my house is full of guys. And you’re cool and carry a gun, and you know about me. You’re the only one who knows about me.” She repeated the last rather wistfully.
Dani bit back a laugh. Now she’d heard it all. She was officially cool and in demand. She felt like a heel for brushing off Chisholm earlier. Still, she opened her mouth out of habit to reissue the standard noncommittal response to Margaret that she didn’t get involved with people in her cases, time was tight, and her schedule changed frequently. All the reasons she’d prepared for Chisholm. Though when he called, it had answered a nagging question about what shifters ate—barbeque. Thank goodness it wasn’t their neighbors.
Margaret’s expectant unblinking stare stopped her.
“How about we make a deal? I’ll drop you off at home, and you tell your dad about staying late, walking home, and the two men. And I’ll come to your debutant ball.”
After mulling it over for a second, Margaret put out her hand. “Deal.”
“I’ll also see what I can find out about the suspicious men at school and let you know tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Detective.”
“You might as well call me Dani.”
3
Pungent aromas with a slightly acrid note and a sweet layer of chocolate, cinnamon, and cayenne assaulted Chisholm’s nostrils as he halted and searched for his target. The coffee house swirled with traffic. Thankfully, most of the people were in a line to buy and go. Still, they blocked his way, making a visual check difficult.
One customer passed him, stirring the air currents and breaking his concentration. In frustration, he inhaled again and recaptured the scent. She was in the rear of the room, at a small table with an open laptop and her briefcase. Interesting place to get work done.
The screen saver eclipsed the open applications as he approached, but not before he caught a good glimpse of an Internet forum and a university logo. So, his staid detective had more going on than just her job as a peace officer. Somehow, it pleased him to find more facets in his recently discovered treasure.
“Are you stalking me, Mr. Barduc?” The corner of her mouth curved slightly upward.
“Chisholm, please. I’m someone who doesn’t require formality. And stalking is too passive. Not my style.”
“So true,” Dani answered, the light in her eyes belying her stern delivery. She placed her coffee beside the laptop and waved toward the seat across from her. “Care to sit, or do you just plan to tower over me?”
“I was formally awaiting an invitation, as would befit a non-stalker. However, thank you, yes.” He slid beside her instead of into the seat she’d indicated.
“Touché.” Her mouth drew into a Cheshire-cat grin as her eyebrow lifted and she spent several long seconds scrutinizing his face. “To what do I owe this visit at six o’clock in the morning?”
Where to start? “Margaret noticed the coffee cup in your car. I thought I’d try you here before your shift started.”
“Observant, isn’t she? She’d make a good detective someday.”
Her scent changed, and a faint metallic sarcastic taste tingled across his tongue, though Chisholm witnessed no outward sign of the emotion. The comment almost seemed unrelated to Margaret, which left it a personal reflection. “Her inclinations are more artistic. A good use of her enhanced skills as well.”
She pursed her lips, then took a sip of her coffee. “I see she told you about yesterday.”
“Yes. We’ve come to an agreement about the time she was secretly adding to her day.”
“I’m glad. You seem to have a good relationship with your daughter. No doubt she appreciates your flexibility.”
She shifted uncomfortably, and he wondered whether she’d missed such a close relationship with her own parents. Her wry expression and unspoken words registered in his gut. “She gets that I love her. I’ll admit, I’m not well versed in girls and puberty, but growing up is awkward no matter what baggage we carry.”
“Are the differences so great? I mean—” She waved a finger and, after a quick glance around, slowly curved her fingers and pretended to gently scratch at the tabletop.
With a laugh, he turned away for a second. “A world of difference and too many things to list. But the things we share are stronger, more intense.” He leaned closer, his hand against hers, edges touching. The move allowed him to enjoy her pulse’s flutter from the butterfly touch of her skin, a rhythm pacing to a tarantella tempo. “Perhaps the differences aren’t as vast to you.”
“I don’t know your life. You can’t believe I would understand.”
“See? Right there you aren’t being truthful.” She started to lean away, but the wall was at her back. Closing the distance, he reached over her and braced his hand against the wall, bringing her to a halt. Their shoulders almost touching, their breaths mingling, he inhaled her scent. No fear, only excitement and—anticipation. “I’ve known from the first moment we met there is more to you than you want people to see. I’m very frank about what I feel and the truths I’m privy to. And I know you are capable of understanding.”
“It would seem you have all the answers.”
“Hardly.” He shifted his hand again to rub against hers, watching her pupils dilate, her pale pink lips part, and her breath hitch. But she didn’t give. “When I first met you, I was flooded with emotions. It almost incapacitated my ability to function.”
Her brow rose again. “Pure fiction. You were in perfect control.”
“Truth. I’m a master at controlling my reactions, as, I suspect, are you.”
“Perhaps endorphins took over due to Margaret’s situation.”
“I’ve been what I am for a very long time, Detective. If I doubt my instincts, I don’t survive. I felt a pattern weave between us, and I feel it’s wrong to experience such strong sensations and keep them hidden. It would amount to falsehood.” He continued quickly as she started to shake her head. “Before you try denial, remember what I am. I know you responded as well, becau
se there are signs. Ones I’m an expert at interpreting.”
As her eyes widened, he captured her pinkie finger with his. He’d caught her off guard and unnerved her. The surge of regret that swept through him wasn’t familiar or a feeling he enjoyed. “We are not that different, Dani Leggett, but I didn’t mean to cause you distress.”
“Detective Leggett,” she said, her façade serene with a barely perceptible tremor in her voice.
Chisholm marveled at her control. It matched his, although his had taken a hundred years to master. Yet, he knew she was warring with herself. Her scents declared equal measure of attraction and panicked resistance, and he was the cause. Bowing his head, he moved his hand away. “I suppose I deserve to have the wall go back up between us.”
“Is this what you came here for this morning? Delivery of your truth?” The soft questions held a bit more tolerance than the rigid posture she maintained.
“Honestly, I couldn’t help seeing you again.” He took a deep breath. “I also wanted to thank you for interceding with Margaret. She and I do have a good relationship. However, allowing her to have someone else to turn to, for once, was a generous gift.”
She blinked, and he followed the delicious movement in her delicate neck as she swallowed for control.
“From your lead-in, I’m guessing you think I can help. I’ll be honest. I’m not really a good role model as a big sister, Mr. Barduc.”
“Chisholm.” He voiced his name a bit more strongly than he’d intended, and the two men at the next table glanced over. He exhaled and interlaced his fingers on the tabletop. “She’s not up for adoption, Detective, but I’m grateful for your patience with her and your counsel. Not everyone would have responded to her as positively.”
“This is my job, and, as she pointed out, I have the resources to handle the issue she faced yesterday. But I do like Margaret, and perhaps I owe you an apology for my abruptness the other day.” She folded her laptop closed and slid it into her briefcase.
