To Trust a Cop

by Sharon Hartley

  If Cody lost control—this had all happened so fast she hadn’t had a chance to experience any real fear, but now her breath came in quick pants. She couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. Her palms were slick with sweat.

  Their car rocked forward and shuddered to a wrenching stop. Cody cursed as her head struck the windshield with a painful thud.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “MERL? ARE YOU OKAY?”

  Merlene heard Cody’s voice over the deafening sound of the engine’s roar but couldn’t respond.

  “Talk to me, Merl.”

  She opened her eyes and realized her right hand covered a throbbing lump on her head. He turned off the engine, and the resulting silence made her feel a whole lot better.

  “Let me see,” he said, pulling her hand away.

  “Am I bleeding?” Which she doubted, since nothing felt warm or sticky.

  He examined her scalp with a gentle touch. “No.”

  She met his gaze, and the worry on his face told her more than any words ever could. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Except for her baby brother, no one had ever cared what happened to her before. But right now Cody did.

  She looked away, unsure how to react to the relieved smile that softened his face, or the flood of warmth that swept through her, leaving behind a sweet ache mixed with confusion. Cody was worried about her, really worried. And not because she was his star witness.

  “I’m okay,” she managed.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I really didn’t hit it that hard.” She took a deep breath. “What happened?”

  He pounded the steering wheel with his fist. “We’re stuck.”

  “So Neville is escaping?”

  “No way. Not if I can stop it.”

  Cody grabbed the map and reconnected with the Marion County Sheriff’s Office, explaining Feldman’s route and where they were stranded.

  She pushed open the car door and stepped ankle deep into cool, wet mud. Yuck. No wonder they’d gotten stuck. The right front tire was buried to the fender in thick ooze. Although she’d jump-started plenty of dead batteries, she knew they’d need a wrecker to pry this heavy policy cruiser out of such a giant mud hole.

  Cody joined her outside, pocketing his phone. “Shit,” he muttered.

  “How in the world did Neville get through this?”

  “A Jeep with four-wheel drive.”

  She balanced against the wooden fence, removed her muddy shoe and tried to clean it as best she could. A strong odor of decaying vegetation and muck surrounded her. “How long do you think it’ll take for the sheriff to come get us?”

  Cody rested his elbows on the top of the car and exhaled roughly. She read his frustration. He’d have chased Neville all the way back to Miami. She shuddered at the thought of racing down I-95.

  He looked around, and she followed his gaze. They were trapped in the middle of a pasture with no buildings in sight. Thick electric lines overhead were the only sign of civilization.

  “At least an hour,” he said. “Maybe two.”

  She stood and shoved her toes back into the damp shoe. “How far back to the ranch house?”

  He eyed her. “Probably a fifteen-minute walk.”

  “Let’s go check it out while we’re waiting. We can tell the cops where we are.”

  With a faint smile, he said, “The cops, Merlene? You mean the good guys, the ones coming to rescue us?”

  She almost said that she didn’t consider the cops the good guys but changed her mind. “Whoever.”

  His smile faded. “Are you sure you’re up to walking that far? How’s your head?”

  She touched the lump and winced. “A little sore, but I think I’m okay. I’d rather go back to the house and get some ice than sit here with nothing to do.”

  He shrugged. “After you, ma’am.”

  * * *

  CODY CHECKED IN with his partner when he could break away from the Marion County deputies. As he waited for Jake to answer his call, he moved outside to the front porch so Merlene couldn’t overhear. They’d been separated for a while, each huddled with the local authorities. Jake had phoned twice in the past hour—unusual for his partner—but this was Cody’s first opportunity to call back.

  Jake answered with his usual “Steadman.”

  “What’s going on?” Cody asked.

  “I could ask the same of you.”

  Cody quickly reported on their encounter with Feldman at the Johnson ranch. “Marion County has set up roadblocks.”

  “Let them know there’s another murder charge added to the list.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Ray Price.”

  Cody leaned against the porch railing as he absorbed the news. “Neville Feldman killed his accomplice before he left town?”

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  “Neville doesn’t want any loose ends.”

  “That’s not all. We’ve heard from an extremely nervous Sean Feldman.”

  “Yeah? Did he get religion all of a sudden?”

  Jake laughed. “Something like that. Sean got a call from his brother swearing any video of him killing Johnson has to be bogus.”

  “Of course he’d claim that. Next he’ll say he was in church.”

  “Yeah, well, Neville told his brother he’d kill the bitch who faked the video, along with anyone else who got in his way.”

  Cody straightened up. “Neville Feldman has threatened Merlene?”

  “Bingo. Sean’s cooperating because he wants nothing to do with a murder charge. Plus, with his brother running wild he’s now worried about his own safety.”

  “Ain’t brotherly love grand.”

  “Yeah, Sean says his bro has gone off on him before. But the thing is, Sean still insists Neville didn’t shoot Dr. Johnson. And you’d better prepare your witness. Since Neville has already killed twice, Montoya wants her in protective custody.”

  “What are you saying? Montoya is putting Merlene in a safe house?”

  “It’s being arranged. When are you coming back?”

  Cody glanced toward the house, unsure he should tell Merlene about the threat. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Well, call for the details before you get back to town.”

  “Will do.”

  “And watch your ass, buddy.”

  “You can count on that.” Cody flipped his phone shut.

  So Montoya wanted Merlene under police protection. Was it to guard her or keep tabs on her? He might want to know where she was at all times. Whichever, she’d hate the whole idea, even if it was for her own good.

  Cody stared at the rolling pasture before him, a peaceful scene in conflict with his thoughts. What troubled him most was Neville Feldman’s claim that Merlene’s video was fake. What did Montoya think about that? His lieutenant was already suspicious of the time it took Merl to produce the video. No doubt he believed she’d delayed to tamper with the recording.

  Did she even have the expertise to make changes that wouldn’t be noticed? He’d seen none of the expensive equipment necessary for technical editing work in her home, and twelve hours wasn’t enough time to send the recording out to a pro.

  But, hell, lowlifes like Neville Feldman always claimed they were innocent. It meant nothing.

  He needed to talk to Merlene.

  He found her at a breakfast bar in the kitchen holding a bag of ice to her head. Even with those expressive gray eyes closed, creases of worry around her mouth and eyes revealed her anxiety.

  Damn, but this case just got crazier and crazier. Thank God he hadn’t let Merlene travel to Ocala by herself. Had Neville known she was driving to the ranch and waited to greet her? How could he know that?

  She lowered the ice when he sa
t beside her. He returned the bag to her scalp, reliving his fear from when she’d hit the windshield. He’d insisted she stay low so she wouldn’t get shot, but in that position she couldn’t wear her seat belt. And of course the woman had peeked over the dash. He managed an encouraging smile, thankful beyond words that her hard head remained intact.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “I’m okay. Did Neville escape?”

  “So far. But right now I’m worried about you. Are you sure you don’t want a trip to the emergency room?”

  “I’m fine, Cody. Really.”

  He lowered the ice and checked her injury again. “Didn’t break the skin,” he reported. “Looks like you’ll live.” With fingers cold from the ice, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Be patient,” he said. “I’ll get you out of here as soon as I can.”

  “I’m counting on that, Detective.”

  He studied her, wondering about what went on inside her stubborn brain. She hid something, maybe exhaustion or fear. Maybe she just wanted to go home. Or was it something more sinister?

  He was letting Feldman’s protestations of innocence play with his head. He knew better than that.

  She sighed. “Quite an adventure we’re having, huh, Detective?”

  He stiffened at her choice of words. He didn’t want her to consider this fiasco an adventure. But Merlene didn’t know about the threat on her life.

  He’d decided not to tell her, thinking it would needlessly frighten her. But what if he’d made the wrong decision? She shouldn’t treat the danger as some kind of joke.

  “What do you want to do tonight, Merl?”

  “Find a motel, I guess,” she said.

  “You don’t want to drive back to Miami?”

  “No.” She glanced up, eyes widening. “We’d be on the road all night.”

  He nodded. “Just wanted to be sure. But we’re not getting a motel. I’m taking you where Neville will never find you.”

  He wanted her away from Neville Feldman, this ranch—hell, this case. Once deputies realized an outstanding murder warrant existed for the fugitive, the Sheriff’s Office became efficient and thorough. Checkpoints had gone up at major intersections. Cody didn’t believe Neville was smart enough to elude capture a second time, but he wanted Merlene someplace safe until they had the bastard in custody.

  She’d been shot at this afternoon, and he was angry with himself for allowing that to happen. She hadn’t panicked, though. In fact, she’d been too damn exhilarated by what they’d gone through. Even the nasty knot on her head didn’t faze her.

  But something bothered her now, and he knew it had to do with him. He wanted to gather her close, nuzzle behind her sexy ears, kiss past her prickly defenses and find out what the hell was wrong.

  But not in a room full of cops.

  “Well?” Merlene raised her eyebrows. “I’m waiting.”

  “For what?” he asked, fascinated by the fleeting dimples that never failed to appear when she fought a grin.

  “Where is this place that Neville won’t find me?”

  “Shh.” He placed his fingers across her lips for no other reason than to touch her. “I’ll tell you when we’re on the way.”

  * * *

  “MY BROTHER-IN-LAW’S FISHING CAMP on Lake Dorr.”

  “Lake Dorr?” Merlene repeated. They were back on the road, and finally their destination had a name, even if she’d never heard of the place. She opened Cody’s glove compartment and reached for her map—now crinkled from being folded wrong.

  “How far is it?”

  “Not far.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s in the Ocala National Forest. Probably take us thirty minutes.”

  “I found it,” she said, her finger on the spot. “You have a key?”

  “I know where one is.”

  “Why there and not a motel?”

  “Because Neville will never find us. I can hide the car in the garage, and the cabin’s got a security system.”

  Dropping the map to her lap, she said, “You can’t believe he’ll come looking for us now. He’s on the run.”

  “Maybe.” He tightened both hands on the wheel. “I’ll feel a lot better when he’s in custody.”

  “Worried about the evidence in your murder case?”

  “I’m worried about you, Merl.”

  The edge in his voice told her more than she wanted to know. Dread knotted in her stomach. “What’s happened that you haven’t told me?”

  She stared at his jaw, waiting for the muscle to twitch, pleased with herself when it did.

  “Remember the passenger in the car with Neville that you recorded?”

  She thought about the photographs on her dining table and dredged the name up from her memory. “Ray Price?”

  “Bingo. My partner finally caught up with him around noon today. Unfortunately, Neville found him first.”

  She swallowed hard. “So...he’s dead?”

  Cody nodded, and she noticed he again rubbed his neck.

  “Now Sean Feldman is even willing to cooperate. With his brother gone berserk, Sean’s worried he could be the next body in the morgue.”

  “Sean confessed?”

  “Not exactly, but he wants no part of a first-degree murder charge...and he wants to stay alive.”

  “I can’t believe Sean ratted on his brother.” Shaking her head, she wondered if she could have ever ratted out Donny, no matter what awful thing he’d done.

  “Sean’s worried his brother wants no witnesses. Not even a brother.”

  “Wow.” Merlene closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the events of the past few days. Murders, chases, bullets, brothers threatening to kill each other. She knew one thing: she was definitely glad to be with Cody. What if she’d driven to the ranch alone and discovered Neville Feldman fleeing out the back door? What the hell would she have done? She shivered, not wanting to think about confronting a murderer by herself.

  Would he have shot her? Would she be wounded and bleeding miles from help. Or dead?

  “Price’s murder rattled Sean big-time,” Cody continued, “but he still insists Neville didn’t shoot Dr. Johnson. I’ll question Sean again when we get back.”

  “How can they say Neville is innocent when I have him on video? That’s ridiculous.” She rubbed her temples. Somehow the pieces didn’t all fit together, but the more she thought about the case, the more muddled the clues became. The obvious answer was that murderers always claimed innocence.

  Cody pulled the car into the parking lot of a small country grocery. He surveyed the area for a moment then turned to her. “I need to go inside and grab something for dinner. We don’t want to eat out and risk running into our friend.”

  “Whatever you say, Detective.” She smiled at Cody. He thought of everything.

  “I don’t like the idea of you staying out here alone. I’d feel better if you came in with me so I can keep an eye on you. Okay?”

  She nodded, liking it very much that he asked.

  “Come on, then. Stay alert and stay close.”

  * * *

  THE FISHING CABIN lay so deep in the woods that Merlene doubted there was a chance of running into anything—except perhaps a bear.

  As the vegetation thickened and the asphalt road turned into potholes, she imagined a primitive log cabin with an outhouse. Instead, when it came into view through the trees, the camp consisted of a modern structure with a screened porch facing the lake. A covered boathouse floated at the bottom of a sloping hill dotted with laurel oaks.

  Even better, inside she found modest but comfortable furnishings and two bedrooms. The place smelled musty from being closed up but was surprisingly clean for a male enclave. She dropped her bag in one bedroom and checked out an updated kitchen. Th
en she moved to the porch and discovered Cody stringing a hammock.

  “Why don’t you relax while I start dinner?” He studied the lake, and she followed his gaze. “Take advantage of it while you can. I don’t want to stay out here after dark.”

  They had maybe an hour of sun left, and the long shadows off the porch fascinated her. Soft light highlighted every trembling leaf and ripple of water with a muted glow. She moved closer to the hammock and Cody.

  “Smells great out here, doesn’t it?” he said.

  She closed her eyes and filled her lungs with the clean air, old memories making her wistful. “Like summer and playing outside as a kid.”

  He held the hammock steady for her while she awkwardly climbed in. After giving her a gentle push, he disappeared inside the house. She closed her eyes and tried to relax into the sway but couldn’t.

  She’d never felt safer in her entire life. And why not? She was hidden under lock and key somewhere in the deep woods with a strong, handsome man professionally trained in various deadly weapons, some of which he’d brought along for the ride.

  She wouldn’t starve to death, either, because he planned on cooking her dinner. So why did she feel so—what was the word? Unsettled.

  Strangely, her mood wasn’t because she was hiding from a murderer.

  No. It was Cody and his kindness. All her life she’d taken care of herself. Shoot, she’d pretty much taken care of her whole family until it had self-destructed. Her husband had been a big baby, and she took care of him for a while, too.

  She stopped the hammock with her foot. The idea of someone doing nice things for her was...well, new.

  She needed to talk to Cody. She needed to thank him.

  He looked up from organizing groceries when she entered the kitchen.

  “Tired of the hammock already?”

  “Let me help. Why don’t I prep those pole beans I made you buy?”

  He shoved a bowl toward her. “Be my guest.”

  She sat at the island in the center of the room and removed the ends from the beans, each snap releasing a pleasant, fresh odor.