by Robena Grant
“Hear me out, okay? There’s a good chance Henry’s, Rachel’s, and my cases are connected. I think one or both of them captured something on film that will help me to flush out the Suarez brothers.”
He heard the chief mutter something, a curse word probably, and he knew not to ask him to repeat what he’d said. Then he heard a chair scrape. Be patient. You had to learn patience to work in the field. You could spend days on surveillance, on a hunch, and not see a glimmer of evidence that you should even be there. Then everything would break loose. Yeah, he could wait out the blustering Chief of the Indio P.D.
Finally, after much hemming and hawing, the chief agreed that his case, and Rachel’s, and Henry’s, might be co-mingled. Michael ended the call, and let out a puff of air, relieved, and somewhat satisfied, with his results. He’d gained permission to access the file, and to disclose to Deputy Stanton of the Almagro PD, the exact details of his undercover assignment, although the chief had given him all kinds of hell on the latter.
No problem, he could deal with the egos of the chiefs of two small town departments. He’d dealt with worse. Now all he had to do was convince Dave to come on board. He looked around. Steam rose from the shower curtain, and as much as Michael itched to go in there and soap both of them up, and maybe make love again, he couldn’t.
“It wouldn’t be safe,” he explained to Ralph, who cocked his head to one side and listened. The dog’s black eyes twinkled and he bared his teeth in a smile, like he understood. Michael ruffled the dog’s head, realizing he had become attached to the little guy. “We have to get each other’s backs. Besides, someone has to protect you.” He raised the binoculars, scanned the entire area, and then dialed Stanton’s number.
“Dave, Michael Delaney here,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “Find anything from the break in?”
“Not a damn thing.”
“Figured it would be that way,” Michael said.
“How’s Rachel?”
“She’s okay. She’s tough, and seems to take things in stride.”
“Yeah, she does that.”
“Any chance we can meet? I’ve got some information I’d like to disclose. We could put our heads together regarding an undercover assignment.”
“Not such a hotshot detective after all? Need help from the redneck cop?” Stanton asked, and then gave a loud hoarse laugh.
“You’re a good cop. I’ve heard the stories.” He realized Stanton might think he’d been quizzing Rachel about him, and he really didn’t want to go there. “You’ve got a good rep in the Coachella Valley.”
“Huh.”
“So, I think we can work together on this. That is, if you want to.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Stanton said.
Michael waited. A few seconds passed.
“How would Almagro PD be involved?”
“The life of one of your citizens is at risk.”
“Rachel?”
Michael pulled in a deep breath. “Don’t go all crazy on me. But, yes.”
“You said she was fine.”
“Look, I need a secure location to discuss this in greater length. But the short version is, she’s with me, and I’m protecting her. Somehow she’s been caught up in this mess, and I think it’s connected to her grandfather.”
“Interesting. You mean he’s not dead?”
“I think he’s being held hostage for some reason. Or could have once been a hostage and—” he lowered his voice to a whisper “—he’s been bumped off.”
Stanton cleared his throat. Shit. Michael had forgotten for a moment that Henry had almost been Stanton’s father-in-law. “I think he’s still alive. The Chief is putting together whatever information he has regarding Henry. If you could pick it up and meet us, I’d be grateful.”
“So, what is it exactly, that you’re saying? What is my role?”
“You’ll be working this case, undercover, with me.”
“Really?”
Michael heard the surprise, mixed with interest, in that one word. He knew to bide his time and wait for Stanton to digest the information.
“Disguised?” Stanton finally asked.
“You got it,” Michael said. Then he had a vision of Stanton turning up in a trench coat and thick, black-rimmed eyeglasses. Maybe he’d even have a false nose. “I’d suggest casual attire, anything that doesn’t draw attention.”
“Yeah. I can do that.”
“Listen, you’ll have full clearance from your department. The two chiefs are in agreement. But you’ll communicate with my chief. We’ll report to the Indio P.D only, and to my thinking, the less people involved the better for all of us.”
“Okay. Where and when do we meet?”
“ASAP. How about the North Shore visitor center?”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Good. We’ll arrive by boat. But we’ll take a less direct route from the cabin, meaning we won’t cut straight across the Salton Sea. We’ll go to the uppermost point, and then double back tracing the shore on the north side.” Another long pause ensued. The water in the shower turned off. Michael scanned the sea, and then the backyard, with his binoculars.
“Okay,” Stanton said. The line went dead.
****
Rachel wrapped herself in a towel and tied another around her wet hair, and made a mad dash into the living room. Ralph, thinking it was a game, barked excitedly. He ran after her, snapping at her ankles and trying to attack the flapping towel. “Shh, shh,” she said, her teeth chattering, and looked over her shoulder as Michael followed her inside. “It’s freezing out there.”
He closed the door behind them. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“No sudden movements.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” She pulled the towel tighter.
“No harm done. This time. Get warm.” He nodded toward the radiator.
“It’s…I don’t know how Grandpa does this. I think today is cold, but it gets below thirty degrees in January.” She shivered, and moved closer to the small amount of heat.
“Do you want privacy?” Michael asked, standing with his back to her and staring out through the kitchen windows.
She laughed. “No, but maybe another towel would be nice.”
He walked over and opened the hall storage cupboard and pulled two out, handing them to her without looking at her body.
“Thanks.” She folded one towel, spread it on the seat of the couch, and then plopped down. “Sit,” she said, and patted the cushion beside her.
He perched next to her, on the edge of the seat, gripping his hands together. He looked like a schoolboy about to recite poetry. She wished she had her camera. “Michael, you are something else.” She shook her wet head, spraying water droplets on his jacket. She kept her voice light and flirtatious. Then still watching his stiff posture, she laughed and picked up another towel. “You do all of those intimate things to me when we make love, yet you can’t look at me naked in daylight.”
“I can,” he said gruffly. “It’s—” He shrugged, met her eyes, and then looked away when she dropped the towel to dry her calves.
She smiled softly. So easy to tease. “What? You don’t like how I look?”
“Are you crazy?” he asked, and jumped up and paced the room. “You’re gorgeous. But I can’t control myself around you. We’re in danger here.” He waved his hands around as he spoke, and then he stopped, and scowled down at her. “Our guy could come back at any time. We don’t know who he is, or what we’re really dealing with.”
“I know that,” Rachel said softly, and a moment of guilt stabbed at her. She really did. But that didn’t prevent her from saying how she felt. “I guess it’s because of that, well, I mean, we don’t know how long we’ll have together. And I refuse to let some half-crazed drug addict rule my life.”
“I’m sorry. Guess I’m feeling guilty for letting my guard down this morning.”
“We were safe.” Rachel shook her head.
“You didn’t let your guard down any more than you would do to use the toilet or the shower. You protected me. Nothing happened.”
“It could have.”
“But it didn’t.”
“Look all I’m saying is, we have to stay alert. No more—” he said, and waved his arms around. “No more frivolity.”
“Frivolity?”
Michael frowned. “Yeah, I know. I sound like my father.”
“So what you’re saying is no more sex?” Rachel faked a pout.
Michael shook his head, but she could see the little tilt at the corners of his mouth. The hint of a smile faded and he began to pace the small room. “This is serious business. If you can’t accept that, I’ll have to leave you behind.”
Hell, she didn’t want that. She bit back her response.
“If I shower,” he said, and frowned deeper. “You have to promise me that you’ll stay on guard. And I mean for every second.”
She raised her eyebrows, and stood. He was still pissed at her. But hell, if they were about to be murdered she’d figured at least she’d go happy. What was wrong with that? And he treated her like a school child. A little inner voice warned her that she’d been acting like they were on a date, instead of being on a mission. So, maybe he could be right. Ah, hell. She grabbed the towel off the couch and wrapped it securely around her body, cinching it between her breasts.
She could be responsible, she really, really could, and she’d show him. “I can do it. Give me your gun.”
“Get dressed,” he said in a soft, controlled voice. “I’ll wait. I’ll make tea.”
She heard the exasperation edging into his voice again, and she sensed his tension by the stiffness in his shoulders. She wished she hadn’t been so flippant earlier. If she wanted him to share his information, to take her seriously, she had to show him she could be serious.
“Okay. Give me five.” She hurried into the bedroom, pulled on underwear, and rooted through the drawers for old clothes she always kept stashed.
“You got any more of that girlie tea?” Michael called out from the kitchen.
Rachel grinned. “The peach herbal tea?” she yelled back, as she shoved one foot into her jeans. “Nah, I’m all out. It will have to be Grandpa’s black tea, even though it’s nasty.”
She waited for Michael’s response about the tea, but got none. She zipped up her blue jeans. They were in trouble, she knew that. This is serious business. She turned on the hair dryer and began to run her fingers through the mess of wet hair to hurry the drying process. It would be a mess. Not even a curly mess, it would be frizzy, but she didn’t have time to dry it slowly. She’d said give me five minutes. Michael was a stickler for time. She looked into the mirror, grimaced, and shook her head.
For some reason she believed they were in this mess because it had something to do with Grandpa Henry. She’d taken the risk, and hooked up with Michael because of that assumption. She hoped she wasn’t way off base. She wouldn’t risk her life for anyone but Grandpa. Would she? Well, Michael, maybe. Standing there, she felt Grandpa’s presence everywhere. She’d do anything to find him. If Michael would trust her, and tell her what was going on, maybe they could work together. And if it meant finding Grandpa, she’d even forgo sex with Michael.
She gave her frizzy red curls a shake. Fancy that, he felt guilty over their one-night stand? Okay, so she’d keep her hands off him and her lustful thoughts to herself. She could do this. She turned off the hair dryer, and pulled a hoodie on over her shirt.
The kettle whistled. “Sugar?” Michael yelled.
“Two,” Rachel called back, as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. She strode back into the living room, held out her hand, and took the mug of tea he offered. “Thanks. “ After a small sip of the black brew, she made a face and added a couple more teaspoons of sugar. At least the hot liquid felt good, and it warmed her insides. “Give me the gun. It’s easier if you strip off in here,” she said, putting the mug on the counter.
He kept his hand on the gun.
“Go out to the shower, in your towel. I’ll stand watch from the same seat you used.”
He nodded, and then made a call from his cell phone. “Yeah, it’s me again. Can you swing by a store, and buy a box of peach herbal tea?” He glanced at her, and then raised his brows in question.
“Desert Traders,” she said, before he could ask.
He repeated the info, shut off his cell phone, and handed her the gun. As good as her word, she left without a backward glance, although that was extremely difficult to do. How about that? Michael had requested of someone that they bring her favorite tea. How sweet. She sat on the verandah in the same chair that Michael had sat in to guard her, and held the gun in one hand, the mug of tea in the other, and surveyed Grandpa’s property.
Even in the midst of a crisis he was considerate of her needs. She wondered for a moment about their visitor. Tempted to call out and ask him, she instead raised the binoculars. The water in the shower turned off. The back door opened and closed behind her, and she continued to scan the shore. Yep, Michael is a keeper.
She’d put her life on the line for this dude, if she had to do so. She could wait. He’d explain everything. Patience was beginning to look good on her.
Chapter Eleven
Half an hour later, they docked the boat at the North Shore visitor center.
Michael jumped off to tie it up. He took in his surroundings, and noted an old black sedan parked at the end of the parking lot. The windows were down, and Dave Stanton sat in the driver’s seat. He said nothing to Rachel. He’d explained on the ride over that they were doing surveillance.
“Let’s go,” he said, and reached out to help Rachel alight. She jumped nimbly to shore, reminding him she was the seafarer of the team.
He’d done much better on this trip, much less nausea. But that could be because he’d told her not to look like they were in a rush to get anywhere. They were two people out for a lazy day of fishing. Ralph’s little white head poked out of the top of Rachel’s zippered jacket. Michael smiled; they were quite a threesome. He’d told her to bring one of her grandfather’s old cameras. It had no film, but he’d assured her that didn’t matter. It was a prop. She hadn’t even questioned him. He liked this new more serious side of Rachel. But on the other hand he also missed her wise-cracking spontaneity.
“We’re meeting Dave Stanton,” he said.
Rachel nodded, but said nothing. He’d thought she’d show some surprise, or ask a million questions, but nothing. She began to walk toward the visitor center.
“This way.” He took her elbow, and they walked along the shore. “Pretend you’re taking photos.”
“Any particular direction?” she asked.
“No. Take your time. Walk around. We’ll split up in a while, but only for a few minutes.”
Rachel did as he said, taking her time to remove the lens cover. She looked first one way, then another. Then she walked down onto the sand and sat on a rock. She raised the camera to her eye, looking in the direction of the birds walking around the shore, and looked and acted totally relaxed. Maybe their little tiff this morning had helped. Hell, he still felt guilty about that. He’d been about to call her reckless, and had bitten his tongue in time.
He waited a few feet back from her and observed their surroundings. Dave had climbed out of the black car, a newspaper in his hand. He sat on the low sea wall for a few minutes. Then he put the folded newspaper down, climbed over the wall, and walked toward the water’s edge.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” Michael said, making his way along the small stretch of sand and up toward the seawall.
Dave sauntered past. “Yeah.” He stopped and looked up at him. “I’m down here from Minnesota. Weather sure beats what we have back home.”
What a surprise. The way he said Minnie soda, had Michael believing him to be a tourist.
“Thought I’d take a look at the museum,” Dave said, indicating the building. “Is there any
thing worth seeing?” He fished out a cigarette from a pack, and lit it. “Want one?” He offered the pack.
“No, thanks,” Michael said. “I believe there’s a good photo display of the early inhabitants of the region. Some of them were famous.”
Dave drew closer, sending a plume of smoke into the cold air. “File is in the paper.”
Michael nodded, and glanced toward the front door of the building. “Meet you back here in twenty.”
“Sure. I brought lunch,” Dave murmured. “And I’ve got a fishing rod or two.” He raised a hand, and walked away.
Michael grinned. The man continued to surprise him. Dave had chosen blue jeans and a plaid shirt, a down filled jacket, and a baseball cap. Wonder what he brought for lunch?
Rachel continued to aim her camera, and snap her make-believe photographs. Michael waved at her. Then he cupped his mouth with both hands. “I’m going for a short walk.”
She waved back, and said something but he missed it, concentrating on her gorgeous smile. Whatever she’d said, he figured it had been pleasant. He walked up the sandy rise to the seawall, sat and gazed out at the sea for a few minutes, and picked up the newspaper. Inside was a long thin envelope. He’d hoped for more information than this on Henry’s case. He wouldn’t open it now. He shook the paper open, spreading the sheets wide and holding them up in front of him. He read a little, watched over the top every few seconds.
There were no other visitors. Nobody came in or out of the building, or even the parking lot. He’d thought they might have to go back out in the boat to talk, or drive in Dave’s car for a while, but it seemed they had the entire place to themselves. He folded the envelope in half and slid it into his pocket. Then he neatly folded the paper and left it where he’d found it. An occasional car whizzed down the highway at speeds exceeding the posted seventy miles per hour. He figured this was as good a spot as any to hold their meeting.
Within five minutes Stanton had gotten his fishing gear out of the trunk, and handed Michael two rods.
Michael took a quick look into the open tackle box. It held quivering bait, which he looked away from. And fancy lures, knives, everything else a fisherman needed, he supposed. He’d never gone fishing as a kid. And as an adult he’d been too damn busy climbing the ladder of success, trying to prove to his father that being a cop was as important as being a doctor. Maybe, one day…if he had a kid of his own.
