Rachel patted him down for a weapon from shoulders to ankles, trying to ignore an unaccustomed awareness of the guy as a fine specimen of his gender. But fine specimens didn’t kidnap little girls. They also didn’t lie about having a wallet.
“No ID,” she reported.
“I must have left it at the hospital. This is my car, Officer. The registration’s in the—” He broke off as a camera operator hoisted a minicam. “What the hell?”
The chief signaled to a rookie. “Keep them behind that pillar, please. Tell them we’ll have a statement in a few minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” The officer marched toward the interlopers.
“Chief—You are the chief, right?” the suspect snapped. “I’d found this child right before your officer jumped me. I heard the Villazon cops were a bunch of cowboys, but Dr. Graves assured me there was nothing to the rumor.”
At the mention of the hospital administrator, the chief’s expression mutated into a frown. “You work for Dr. Graves?”
“I’m on the staff,” the man answered grimly. “My office is in the medical building here.”
He stood taller. Funny how a guy could appear in command despite having his hands cuffed behind him.
“You’re a doctor?” the chief asked.
A nod.
Okay, make that Dr. Power Suit, Rachel thought. No wonder he acted so arrogant. He wouldn’t be the first doctor to confuse himself with God.
“Nevertheless, we’re going to take you in,” Lyons responded.
Rachel expected the suspect to bluster. Instead, he glanced past them toward the reporters. “I think my ID just arrived—along with my alibi.”
She and the chief swung around. Waving at them from behind the rookie was Marta Lawson, a good friend of Rachel’s who ran the hospital gift shop.
“Dr. McKenzie!” The short, brown-haired woman hoisted a leather packet. “You left your wallet on the counter.”
A couple of newly obvious facts hit Rachel. For starters, the guy had honestly misplaced his ID. He’d probably stopped to buy a snack or a magazine on the way out.
Also, if he’d been working at the hospital, he had an alibi for his whereabouts this afternoon. Which meant he might be telling the truth about having spotted Nina in the parking structure.
Even though Rachel considered her actions justified, she’d picked on a big shot who was probably going to make trouble in front of the press. And trouble was the last thing the Villazon Police Department needed.
She knew as well as anyone that when push came to shove, the cop usually ended up taking the heat. The possibility of a sodden slope collapsing on her condominium suddenly seemed minor by comparison.
Chapter Two
Russ McKenzie had nothing against cops, but he hated bullies, no matter what form they came in. Being pushed around provoked him to a fighting rage. This made him doubly incensed because it meant losing control. In most respects, he kept his emotions under tight guard. Except with kids, of course. His warm response to children was part of the reason he’d become a pediatrician.
So when he’d heard a small, quavery voice asking for help and saw a rumpled child who complained of a sore knee, he hadn’t hesitated. To calm her, he’d offered a mint from his newly purchased roll, then checked her injury while asking where her parents might be. She’d explained, haltingly, that she’d followed a group of older children and lost her way.
He’d been relieved to spot an officer. But instead of receiving a thank-you for finding the child, he’d been roughed up and treated like a criminal until Marta and other hospital personnel had confirmed his whereabouts for the day. Russ didn’t like to think about how he’d have been treated had he met the child while arriving for work rather than departing.
He hadn’t had to go to the station, and he’d provided his statement and received an apology from Chief Lyons right there in the garage. Yet the perpetrator of the outrage stood scowling at him as if he were in the wrong. The officer might be pretty if she’d lose the pugnacious air and the odd, bicolored hair. Now that his initial anger had ebbed, he found her rather intriguing.
Leaning against a pillar, he rubbed one wrist where the cuff had chafed and tried to collect his thoughts. The last hour had sped by as more cops piled in, the media clamored for interviews and the little girl’s tearful parents arrived.
They’d been distressed to learn they had to wait for an all-clear from the hospital. Meanwhile, a detective had ushered them aside and plied them with additional questions. Russ was glad the police took the girl’s situation seriously. Her parents should have watched her more closely.
After obtaining the story, the news van and the local reporter had finally left. They’d treated Russ as a sort of hero, which he considered almost as ridiculous as being vilified.
Under the chief’s watchful eye, the truculent Officer Byers approached. “I, uh, guess I owe you an apology.”
Anger prevented a reply. He wasn’t ready to make peace yet.
“More,” said the chief.
“More what?” she inquired.
“You said you owe him an apology. You didn’t issue one.”
The woman’s jaw tightened until Russ feared she might require restorative dental work. In a strained voice, she uttered, “Sorry, sir. I was trying to protect the child.”
“She didn’t need protecting from me.” Russ supposed he ought to drop the matter, but her maltreatment had brought up deep-seated resentment. “When I moved here last month from west L.A., I hoped a small town would be a friendly place to live. Guess I was wrong.”
“We are friendly,” the chief protested. “Say, I have an idea how to atone for this misunderstanding. Rachel, why don’t you take the doctor on a ride-along tomorrow? It’s Saturday and maybe he’s off. He might enjoy a cop’s-eye view of Villazon.”
Any other chief would have backed off, fearful of a lawsuit. Lyons’s conciliatory tone reminded Russ of Dr. Graves’s assurance that the police department was bending over backward to safeguard its reputation.
As for the officer, she looked as if she were considering taking up long-distance marathon running—in the opposite direction. Ross found the prospect of discomfiting her further amusing. Besides, what better way to get acquainted with his adopted hometown?
“I accept,” he announced. “What time?”
“Sorry. I’m off-duty tomorrow and the next two days after that.” Rachel didn’t bother to hide her relief. Ironically, her more relaxed mood revealed an intriguing warmth. Definitely a woman of many layers, Russ thought.
“You have three days off?” He wondered what kind of schedule these cops worked.
“We work five nine-hour days in a row, then three off,” she responded. “Working nine hours lets us overlap patrols so the crooks can’t take advantage of shift change.”
The chief persisted. “Well then, how about a ride-along next week, Doctor?”
Officer Byers’s mouth twisted. Her annoyance nearly spurred Russ to accept, but he had patients scheduled. Also, he was curious about this woman. He’d never met anyone quite like her. “Next Saturday will be soon enough. You are on duty then, aren’t you?”
She squirmed. “I’d rather not have this hanging over my head. I’m sure the Chamber of Commerce can provide you with a tour guide.”
The chief folded his arms. Rachel sighed so profoundly that Russ had to sympathize. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll drive the doctor around tomorrow on my free day, although I’m sure I’ll bore the socks off him.”
The woman’s bluntness tickled him. “Whatever you’d like to show me, I’m sure I’ll find it fascinating.”
“Ten, fifteen minutes and you’ll be either screaming to go home or fast asleep.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Russ supposed he must be nuts to want to view local landmarks with an Amazon who apparently wished he would drop off the face of the earth. Maybe he’d spent too many evenings alone, catching up on medical journals and staring at
the sparsely furnished rooms of his house. Except for the old friend who’d encouraged him to move here, he didn’t have anyone to hang out with in Villazon. For whatever reason, the prospect of spending a few hours in Rachel Byers’s company appealed to him.
The chief’s cell rang. He listened with evident satisfaction. “Excellent. I’m sure the parents are more than ready to take her home.”
“She’s okay?” Russ asked when the chief clicked off. Until now he’d been so distracted he hadn’t considered that perhaps the girl really had suffered a misadventure during her lost hours.
“A sore knee where she fell on it, nothing more.” Lyons shook hands with Russ. “Thanks for finding Miss Franco. I can’t tell you how glad we are that she ended up in your hands rather than someone else’s.”
“Me, too.” Russ scribbled his home address on the back of a business card and handed it to Rachel. “What time?”
“Three o’clock.” The words came out clipped.
“Suits me.”
She met his gaze. “You really did look suspicious.”
“Officer Byers!” snapped the chief.
“I’m gone.” She made tracks for her patrol car.
“Quite a character,” Russ observed.
“She’s conscientious. A good cop.” The chief reiterated his regret at the way Russ had been treated.
“I’m glad we worked it out,” he responded.
In no hurry to leave, Russ watched Lyons’s vehicle and a black-and-white depart in tandem. Officer Byers lingered beside her cruiser, absentmindedly rubbing her hip as she scribbled notes on a clipboard.
Being knocked against a pillar must have left a bruise. The fact that his own body ached from the way she’d man-handled him didn’t diminish Russ’s regret at inflicting pain. “Sorry if I hurt you,” he called.
Her face came up. Wide cheekbones, clear hazel eyes. “Oh, hey, I can always use a workout.” With a wave, she slid inside.
Not the type to hold a grudge, he thought. That impressed him.
Left alone in the echoing garage, Russ felt his mood plummet. Maybe he missed the excitement. No, not really. Or was it Rachel’s stubborn frankness? Well, a little.
Halfway home, he recognized the real problem. The encounter with little Nina had intensified a deep-seated longing to meet the daughter he’d given up for adoption five years ago. Consenting to give her up was the greatest regret of his life.
When his girlfriend informed him of her pregnancy, Russ had been exhausted from the stress of his internship and stunned by the news. He’d halfheartedly offered a proposal that Janine had wisely rejected.
Disputing her decision to grant custody of Lauren to Janine’s parents hadn’t even occurred to him. He couldn’t have raised an infant alone, especially not while facing a mountain of medical school bills. So he’d signed the relinquishment papers at a lawyer’s office without requesting to see his newborn daughter.
The grandparents no doubt took good care of the child, and Russ understood why they refused to let him visit. But he missed the daughter he’d never even held.
Now that he was settling in a small town and, thanks to an inheritance, no longer owed money, he hoped for another chance at raising a family. He’d like to find the right woman—a gentle, caring person eager to have kids. He imagined them sharing an orderly, well-run home like his parents’.
In the meantime, he looked forward to tomorrow’s tour with the crusty Officer Byers. It ought to prove diverting.
RACHEL COULDN’T DECIDE what to wear.
She hated the whole business of picking out clothes. One of the major appeals of being a police officer was the uniform.
Usually on free days she threw on a pair of slacks and a sweater, which was pretty much all she owned. But today she had to represent the department, in a sense. Plus, after she dropped the doctor off, she planned to swing by Hale Crandall’s party.
Peering in the mirror, Rachel ruffled her two-toned hair, which she’d observed Russ regarding in horrified fascination. She’d be willing to bet his taste in dates ran to sleek and sophisticated.
Hot ladies probably sought his phone number everywhere he went. In addition to that alluring M.D. hooked to his name, the guy had broad shoulders and tight buns. Nice mouth, too. Doubtful he’d consider her romance material. Also, the only thing worse than being treated as one of the guys would be landing in some hotshot’s bed as his latest conquest. Just in case he did go for tall women with bicolored thatch on the roof, maybe she ought to wear the uniform.
Rachel, who usually had no trouble making up her mind, couldn’t choose. She didn’t dare call Elise, who disdained the idea of dressing to please a guy. Marta was almost as fashion-challenged as Rachel, which left a single choice: Marta’s cousin Connie.
Connie Lawson Simmons, ex-wife of traffic Sgt. Joel Simmons, was the girliest girl she knew. Heck, Connie was probably the girliest girl anybody knew. She decorated her house with enough crystal, china and gewgaws to open a gift store, which was exactly what she’d done. She now owned three such shops, including the concession at the hospital.
In high school, where Connie had been a cheerleader, she used to sniff whenever Rachel walked by as if picking up a bad odor. Rachel had considered Connie a case of lint between the ears.
They’d been nineteen-year-old sophomores at Cal State Fullerton on the day a speeding car plowed through a red light and caved in the passenger side of Connie’s sedan, where Marta was riding. Waiting at the curb en route to a police-science class, Rachel had pulled Marta to safety moments before the engine caught fire.
Although Connie had escaped unharmed, the accident left her cousin with head injuries and multiple fractures. She’d survived to face years of rehab.
Rachel and Connie had grown close as they sat at Marta’s bedside and later assisted with her exercises. Despite dissimilar personalities, the three had remained friends through eleven years of ups and downs, and all volunteered at Villa Corazon, a volunteer tutoring center Marta had helped establish. Villa Corazon. That meant City of Heart, a play on the town’s name.
Feeling like an idiot, Rachel called her friend and explained the situation. “What do you suggest?”
“Is there time for us to go shopping?” She could picture Connie, blond hair caressing her shoulders and lips parted in a manner that drove men crazy. “Because I’m sure you don’t have anything in your closet.”
Rachel didn’t take offense. Not only was this true, it scarcely counted as an insult compared to the words that used to pour from Connie’s lipsticked mouth whenever she lost her temper with her ex-husband. Or her next-door neighbor, Hale Crandall, on those frequent occasions when he ran afoul of her.
“It’s too late.” Less than an hour remained. After finishing work at midnight and playing an on-line video game until 3 a.m., Rachel had slept till noon. “I’m not trying to date the guy. I just prefer to avoid looking like a dork.”
Connie didn’t hesitate. “Dig around and see if you have a skirt. Also a green blouse.”
“Why green?”
A disbelieving snort. “To match your eyes!”
“My eyes are hazel.” On that point, Rachel felt certain.
“They’re mostly green.” A beat later, Connie added, “Bad idea about a skirt. You’d probably put it on backward.”
“I hate skirts anyway.” Rachel had never realized she had a best color. “Green, huh?”
“I might own a top that would fit you.” That was a huge concession, considering how particular Connie was with her stuff.
“May not be necessary. Hold on.” Cell phone in hand, Rachel poked through her closet. Brown, blue, maroon. At last, in the depths, she discovered an emerald turtleneck that she vaguely recalled receiving from her sister one Christmas. “I found a green sweater.”
“How about black pants?”
“Right here.” Rachel lifted a pair off the hanger. “Wait. They could be navy blue.”
Connie groaned. “Carry them into t
he daylight!” Then, “On second thought, you’ll need makeup. I can be there in ten minutes.”
She’d bring mascara and green eye shadow, Rachel thought. Scary prospect. “I’ll handle it. Honest. I’ll duck over from Hale’s party and show you.”
“Hale’s throwing a party?”
Uh-oh. That idiot detective should have warned his neighbor. It might at least take the edge off her temper when the party reached full swing.
Connie had never forgiven Hale for encouraging Joel’s drinking and party-going behavior, which had been a major factor in their split. Now she was stuck living next door to Crandall, with the result that practically any transgression on his part sent her into a rage. It seemed to Rachel that Connie resented Hale almost as much as her ex.
“It’s a barbecue,” she admitted. “Starts at five.”
“If those creeps are too loud, I’ll call 911 on ’em. Imagine what having his own men busted would do to Chief Lyons and his image campaign!”
“How about waiting till I leave? Better yet, give us a break.” Rachel would hate to land in trouble two days running, or to see her buddies in a jam. “Maybe I can keep a lid on things.”
“I might drop in to see you and the good doctor. You are bringing him, right?”
“No way!” Rachel couldn’t imagine him mixing with her pals. And his presence might give others the idea she had a boyfriend.
That wouldn’t be bad if it were true. She kept wishing she’d feel sparks for some nice solid Joe, the kind who invited her to Dodgers games or classic car rallies.
As a teenager, Rachel had ruined several friendships and one budding romance by nearly smothering the other person. Maturity had enabled her to recognize the displaced child’s lingering neediness and overcome it, maybe a bit too thoroughly.
Then along came a guy like Dr. Power Suit who stirred a few embers of the old longing. She might as well enjoy the glow, because given their fundamental differences, it wouldn’t last.
After hanging up, Rachel carried the pants to the window as Connie had suggested. They were black, but she chose gray slacks instead. Less formal.
The Doctor's Little Secret Page 2
