by Anna Sugden
“I know.”
She frowned at him. “Then what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I—I mean, I just don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to put your safety on the line just for my sake.”
In a mere twelve hours, he’d told her he loved her once, had tried to take it back and then had nearly told her again. From the way Delia was watching him, she knew it, too.
“This is what we do, Ben. We put ourselves out there for somebody else’s sake all the time. And just like you would, I want to finish what I started. To ensure that the proper suspects are charged with these crimes.”
“Are you sure we can’t just hide out together and wait for the whole thing to blow over? I know of a few pleasant activities we could take part in to pass the time.” He planted on his best smile though he’d already lost the argument.
Delia didn’t respond to his attempt at humor. “If you respect me at all as a fellow police officer, you’ll let me do my job. And without second-guessing or micromanaging. Can you do that?”
Despite his worry that this was a mistake, he nodded. She needed him to have confidence in her as a police officer as much as he needed her to know she could trust him with her heart. So he would keep telling himself he was making the right decision in continuing to put her life at risk for his sake, until he finally believed the lie.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DELIA APPROACHED THE white sedan from the rear, careful to observe any sudden movements from the driver, presumably a male, and his passenger, gender undetermined. She’d already trained the spotlight on the car’s interior and waited several seconds before climbing out of her car, so she could monitor whether either occupant was behaving erratically.
As Delia reached the side of the car, the window rolled down.
“Hello, sir.” She blinked at the teenager behind the steering wheel. She’d prepared herself to meet a middle-aged man, based on the type of car and honor-student bumper sticker on the back window. “May I see your driver’s license and registration?”
Delia had felt off all night, and it wasn’t only that Trevor had been right across the squad room from her during announcements, either. Or even that he hadn’t stopped staring until they were dismissed to head outside for another snowy shift. She’d dropped not one driver’s license, but two, right in the gray sludge along the side of the road while making routine traffic stops, and she’d managed to get herself lost in one of the larger subdivisions, despite her GPS.
She needed to pull it together. She couldn’t afford to be distracted when she was on traffic duty—traffic stops were one of the most dangerous assignments troopers completed. There was no way to know who would be waiting for them inside those cars they pulled over.
Delia reached for a notebook and pen in her pocket. “May I see your proof of insurance, as well?”
At least she could rely on her regular speech. Otherwise, she would have forgotten what she was supposed to say next. The driver produced the documents, and the passenger, another older teen, didn’t balk when also asked to show his driver’s license.
She glanced at the driver’s documents first. “Mr. Franklin, just so you know, the reason I pulled you over is that you were going forty-nine in a thirty-five-mile-per-hour zone.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hiding her grin, she returned to her car to type up the ticket. At least the kid hadn’t given her any trouble. She could, in turn, make it a little easier on him.
Still, as Delia swiped the boy’s driver’s license through the card reader on her laptop, it was difficult to stay focused. Nothing had felt right since Ben had asked her to stop looking at his case. She couldn’t decide which had her more discombobulated—that he’d asked her to walk away from the investigation or that he’d wanted her to stop for her own safety.
Because he loved her. He hadn’t said it the second time, but that was what he’d meant.
What did that say about love? At least Ben’s version of it? Was it just an excuse to dictate someone else’s life? Just another word for control?
She tightened her jaw. If only her heart and head weren’t telling her two different things. Her head, the only part of her she’d ever listened to before, was telling her to run. From Ben. From the weakness of relying on another person. From the risk of pain she wouldn’t be able to bear if someone she loved deserted her. Again.
Only she didn’t want to pull away. Not this time. She wanted to be with Ben. She could even forgive him his momentary lapse—he’d only wanted to protect her. She wanted him that much. And though he hadn’t said it in exactly those words, he wanted a relationship, just like she did. So why, instead of feeling excited and hopeful for this new adventure, did she feel like a game-show contestant, choosing between the prizes behind two doors while already certain that both rooms were empty?
She shook off the thought and the edginess as she pulled the long strip of shiny, white paper off the miniprinter and returned to give the boy his ticket and the bad news.
“Now, I gave you a break—only ten over instead of fourteen—so it will be fewer points on your driving record,” she explained. “But, unfortunately, since you’re under eighteen and have a graduated driver’s license, your probationary-license period will be extended by several months.”
The boy looked like he was about to cry, but he accepted the ticket and her warning to slow down. As she stepped away, she could hear him talking to the boy in the passenger seat.
“Man, my dad’s going to kill me.”
She could relate to how that kid must feel. Not that she gave even a small damn what her parents thought about anything she did. But his general unease, now, that she understood completely.
Shaking the snow off her coat and her cover outside the patrol car, she wished she could shake off her discomfort as easily. She climbed in the car and lifted her police radio control.
“Radio 570. Traffic,” she said into the handset.
Delia was looking over her shoulder to merge into traffic when her personal cell phone rang. She froze. Should she answer? Would it be Ben calling again to warn her to be careful? Would he muddle her thoughts even more by almost telling her that he loved her?
Well aware he would only hit Redial if she sent the call to voice mail or “missed” it, she reached for the phone that she’d tucked in a storage nook built into the dashboard. But she didn’t recognize the number, so she allowed it to go to voice mail. She’d thought she’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with her parents, but that didn’t mean they’d gotten the message. They would probably continue calling until she finally changed the number and maybe even moved.
Either curiosity or a self-destructive streak made her shift the car back into Park and click on her voice mail. But before she could listen to the message, her phone rang again, that same mysterious number flashing on the caller ID. With a shrug, she answered it.
“Delia? I wasn’t sure if you had your phone with you.”
She squinted, trying to place the voice. “Trooper Maxwell?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Grant. I didn’t think my voice was so recognizable.”
“I guessed,” she said with a chuckle. And it was recognizable, whether he realized that or not. A few weeks ago she would have asked how he had her phone number, but lately she’d started trading numbers with fellow troopers as part of her effort to become more involved with the team. The plan that Ben had encouraged. She’d even received a few calls and texts from some of the others since then. “So what’s up?”
She waited for him to explain why he’d called. Since her run-in with Trevor, she was a little gun-shy with her coworkers.
“I’m calling because I can help you.”
Automatically, she straightened in her seat. “How’s that?”
“I realize I’m not supposed to know this, but I think you’re helping Ben.”
Her breath caught. Had everyone and his second cousin, Marty, figured out that she’d been looki
ng into the case? So much for being discreet and flying under the radar.
“You don’t have to answer,” Grant said when she didn’t respond immediately.
Great, he didn’t even need confirmation. Just how obvious had she been? She might have questioned the information coming from Grant, but they’d already looked into his background, just like all the other officers. He was one of the first they’d cleared as a possible suspect. Good cop. Clean record.
“Anyway, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to help him, too. Ben doesn’t deserve any of this, does he?”
She sighed, figuring she would have to be careful not to admit her involvement just yet. At least Grant wasn’t trying to turn the guilt back on her the way Trevor had.
“No, he doesn’t deserve it.”
“Well, I finally know how I can help.”
She gripped the steering wheel, drawing in a sharp breath. Was this how operators at tip lines felt every time a call came in? That moment of hope before realizing the thrill seekers were just stirring the pot again. “How’s that?”
“I happened upon some information that might help clear his name.”
“What is it?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her desperation was as obvious as it was authentic. Still, was it possible that he’d found something significant? She’d been looking for answers for weeks, and one of Ben’s other coworkers “happened upon” something she’d missed? It wasn’t fair.
“If I were interested in finding some information like that, what would I need to do to come across it?”
“You’re funny,” he told her. “Ben was right. He always said he saw such potential in you. That you were going to become a great part of the team.”
“Uh. Thanks?” It was the second time a coworker had shared that Ben believed in her. Even then. She cleared her throat. “So. About that information...”
“When can we meet?”
“Isn’t there anything you can tell me now?”
“Well—” he paused as if taking the time to look around wherever he was “—probably not right here. Besides, I have some papers to give you, so—”
“When and where?”
She sounded too anxious, but she couldn’t help herself. He had answers, and she needed them. It was as simple as that. And besides, if he really wanted to help the way he said he did, he wouldn’t care if she sounded desperate. Ben was probably sick of waiting, as well. He deserved to be released from this purgatory as soon as she found the key to this particular set of handcuffs.
“Do you know where the Brighton Recreation Area is? You know, the state park?”
“Of course. It was on the Livingston County tour Captain Polaski insisted on during my first day on the job.”
“You know the rustic cabins by Caroga Lake?”
She frowned. It seemed like an odd place to meet. “I don’t, but I’m sure I can find them.”
“You can get there by taking Bishop Lake Road.”
“But isn’t there a less out-of-the-way place we can meet?”
She glanced out the windshield to the horizon, where the scant winter daylight was fading fast. The recreation area would be as dark as Kensington was all those nights she’d driven through, but at least she knew that location. The state park would be both dark and unfamiliar.
“I know I seem overly cautious,” he said, chuckling. “But I don’t have to tell you that there are people who don’t want any information associated with this case to come to light, and as you’ve probably guessed, at least a few of them are working right alongside us.”
“A few of them?”
She tried to keep her voice even, but it was obvious that the tentacles of this case stretched beyond even what she and Ben had guessed.
“The information I have is good, I swear,” Grant continued. “I would just rather be careful as I’m passing it along, if that’s all right with you.”
“Fine,” she heard herself saying. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to protect himself.
They agreed on a time and ended the call. Eight o’clock was later than she preferred, but at least it was during her shift, so she would still have her patrol car. She could use the spotlight to hunt down the little cabins, she decided, as she tucked her phone back in the shelf.
She glanced down at the radar gun in the passenger seat. Other drivers would get a break tonight because she was finished monitoring traffic for now. She picked up the cell phone again. Ben deserved to know what she’d just learned, but if she called him, he might tell her to stand down over the case again, and she was in no mood for another argument.
Maybe if she texted him instead, she could provide minimal details and not have to hear the worry in his voice. Decision made, she quickly drafted a message with her thumbs.
FYI Grant has answers we’ve been looking for. Knows I’m working w/ you. Says possibly more than 1 suspect. Meeting at 8 @ Brighton Recreation Area. Cabins near Caroga Lake. Info TBD.
She’d expected him to respond, but hadn’t figured it would come before she had the car in gear. Leaving it in Park, she reached for the phone again. It wouldn’t do for a police officer to be seen texting and driving.
Why the rec area? Can’t make it by 8. Will be there ASAP. Wait for me.
Delia had to grin as she set her phone aside. Of course he wanted her to wait for him. After all he’d been through, he would definitely like to be there when the answers were finally revealed. But he couldn’t make it in time anyway. She glanced down at her dashboard clock and frowned. From her current location, she would barely make it there on time herself, especially if she had trouble finding Caroga Lake among all of the tiny lakes in the rec area. She hit Reply and typed again.
Can’t wait. Don’t want to be late. You shouldn’t come anyway. You’re on leave. Not good to be seen together. Got it under control. Details later.
His response was immediate and confusing.
No. Wait. Don’t take any extra risks. Call for backup before going in. On my way.
Delia frowned at the message. Ben might have talked about her stubbornness, but sometimes he could be just as bullheaded and impractical as she was. Especially when it came to her safety. Silencing her phone so she wouldn’t hear the ping and be tempted to look at another one of his overprotective messages while she was driving, she set it aside, put the car into gear and pulled out into traffic. She would see him soon anyway. Whether it was a bad idea or not, whether he would get in trouble about it later or not, he’d be showing up at that meeting point. He would be there as fast as his SUV could go without him becoming a suspect in a high-speed chase on Interstate 96 or US 23.
Her gaze lowered to the police radio as she considered Ben’s insistence that she call for backup and then shook her head. Why would she call for backup when she was just meeting with a fellow trooper, and Ben would be there in a matter of minutes? What would she even have said, that she was meeting up with an officer so that he could report on one or more fellow team members? That would go over really well. And how would she even know whether she’d be calling in someone who would help or harm her?
She didn’t need additional backup, anyway. Especially not with Ben on the way. Just as she knew she could count on him to be there for her, she planned to do this for the man she loved to prove that he could count on her.
She was going to get to the answers that would secure his freedom. Hopefully, she would make him proud.
* * *
“PICK UP THE PHONE!”
Ben shouted at his cell phone, through his SUV’s hands-free unit, as the call went to Delia’s voice mail for the third time in a row. He ended the call and immediately dialed again. She wasn’t refusing the calls, but she wasn’t picking up, either.
“Delia, answer your phone!”
Ben pounded his hands on the steering wheel as he pulled to the side of the highway and flicked on his warning lights. He couldn’t afford the time, but she had to know what she was driving into.
As soon as he pushed Send, he merged back onto the road.
“You touch her, and I will kill you,” he called out to the man who used to be his friend.
Why was it taking him so long to get there? Rush hour was long over. Why was there so much traffic? He had to get to her. Had to let her know she was driving into an ambush. He wouldn’t be so worried if he was certain she’d called for backup, but this was Delia he was talking about. After everything they’d gone through together, she still didn’t fully trust him. Didn’t trust anyone. Now he had to get to her before Grant did.
Why it had taken him so long to figure out that Grant was guilty, Ben still didn’t know. But when Delia had texted about meeting with Grant, all of those niggling little pieces of the puzzle fell into place for him. Why had he wasted so much time looking at Trevor and the other newer troopers, when he’d always known it would be one of his longtime friends? One who could hurt him the most.
Ben had to have been wearing blinders himself not to have seen it earlier. Now the evidence, though circumstantial, was enough to shame him. Of course, he knew about Grant’s credit troubles last year after his divorce. Ben had even tossed him a few bucks when funds had been tight. That’s what friends did.
None of them had questioned the brand-new quad-cab pickup that Grant had bought with his inheritance after his grandmother’s death. They’d all attended the funeral. That’s what friends did.
And they’d all rallied around Grant last summer when a run-in with a motorist had nearly got him shot along Interstate 96. That’s what friends did.
Individually, none of those things raised many red flags for Ben, especially with such reasonable explanations. He’d even ruled Grant out as a suspect because he had a clean work record and, according to the internet anyway, came from a good family. A good cop. A good friend.
Apparently, setting friends up to take the fall for crimes was something friends did, too.
