Читать книгу Christmastime Courtship - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 13

Chapter Four

“Okay,” Colin said, closing his ticket book and putting it away. “I’ll check with the other officer your director talked to. What’s his name or badge number?” he asked.

Miranda shook her head. She hadn’t thought to ask for that information when the director had given her an update. “I’m afraid Amelia didn’t mention either one.”

Colin looked at her. The name meant nothing to him. “Amelia?”

“Amelia Sellers,” Miranda specified. “That’s the shelter’s director. She didn’t give me the officer’s name, but seemed pretty upset that he wasn’t taking the situation seriously.”

Colin read between the lines. He assumed that the officer the shelter director had talked to hadn’t told her that he would get back to her. Not that he blamed the man.

“I take it this Amelia isn’t as pushy as you,” he commented.

Miranda wasn’t exactly happy with his description, but the situation was far too important for her to get sidelined by something so petty.

“Actually, she can be very forceful. But the officer taking down the information really didn’t seem to think that Gina was missing,” Miranda said.

She was looking at him with the kind of hopeful eyes that made men seriously consider leaping tall buildings in a single bound and bending steel with their bare hands in an attempt to impress her.

If he was going to interact with this woman for any length of time, he was going to have to remember to avoid looking into her eyes, Colin told himself. They were far too distracting.

“I bet you were prom queen, weren’t you?” he asked.

The question came out of the blue and caught her completely off guard. It took Miranda a moment to collect herself and answer, “Actually, I didn’t go to the prom.”

“No one asked you?” He found that rather hard to believe. She struck him as the epitome of a cheerleader. Was she pulling his leg?

Miranda didn’t answer his question directly. She actually had been asked, just hadn’t said yes.

“I had a scheduling problem,” she said vaguely. “The prom interfered with my volunteer work.”

“In high school?” Colin asked incredulously.

“You look surprised,” she noted, then told him, “People in high school volunteer for things.” At least, the people she’d kept company with had.

Shrugging, he said, “If you say so.” He’d never concerned himself with social activities, even back then, nor did he involve himself with any kind of volunteer work. Most of his life he’d been a loner.

Securing the ticket book in his back pocket, he told her, “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Don’t you want the phone number at the shelter?”

He caught himself thinking fleetingly that he’d rather have her number. The next second he deliberately pushed the thought away. If he had her number, that might very well lead to complications, which was the very last thing he wanted. He supposed that obtaining the shelter’s number was innocuous enough. Most likely if he used it he’d wind up speaking to the director.

“Right,” Colin answered, doing his best to exercise patience. “So what is it?”

Miranda gave him the number to the shelter’s landline, then waited for him to take out the ticket book again so he could jot it down.

Sensing what she wanted, he did just that. As he put the book away a second time he heard her asking, “Aren’t you going to follow me to the shelter?”

It just didn’t end with her, did it? he thought, exasperated. “Why would I want to do that?”

“To see Gina’s picture,” she reminded him. “I told you that there’s one at the shelter. Lily has it.”

He looked at her blankly for a split second until the information clicked into place. “Lily. Right, the little girl.”

For a moment, he thought about telling her—again—that this wasn’t something he did. His main sphere of expertise was keeping the flow of traffic going at a reasonable rate.

There were patrol officers who took this kind of information down, as well as detectives back at the precinct who specialized in missing persons. But he had no desire to get into all that with her. It would just lead to another prolonged debate.

Besides, it wasn’t as if leaving the area was tantamount to abandoning a hub of vehicular infractions and crimes. And how long would following her to the shelter and getting that photograph of the runaway mother take, anyway?

Making no effort to suppress the sigh that escaped his lips, he said, “Okay, lead the way.”

The officer’s answer surprised her. She’d expected more resistance from him. Finally!

Her mouth curved. “So then, you are going to follow me?”

The woman had a magnetic, not to mention hypnotic, smile. He forced himself to look away.

“That’s what ‘lead the way’ usually means,” he answered shortly.

“I know that,” she acknowledged. “It’s just that I realize I’m asking you to go above and beyond the call of duty.”

And yet here you are asking me, he thought, irritated. Colin was beginning to think that the woman could just go on talking indefinitely. He, on the other hand, wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

“Just get in your car and drive, Miranda,” he instructed gruffly.

Her mouth quirked in another smile that made him think of the first ray of sunshine coming out after a storm. “You remembered.”

“Yeah,” Colin said shortly. He wasn’t about to tell her that, like it or not—and he didn’t—this fleeting contact with her had already left a definite imprint on his brain. “Well?” he prodded, when she continued standing there. “I don’t have all day.”

“Right.”

The next moment she was hurrying back to her vehicle. Getting in, she started up the engine mindful of the fact that she had to be careful to observe all the rules. She had no doubt that if she exceeded the speed limit—and there seemed to be a different one posted on each long block—the officer behind her wouldn’t hesitate to give her a ticket this time.

He’d probably see it as a reward for humoring her, Miranda thought.

But it didn’t matter. She’d gotten him to agree, however grudgingly, to try to find Lily’s mother, and that was all that did matter.

The shelter wasn’t far away. Parking near the entrance, she got out of her car and stood beside it, waiting for the officer to pull into the parking lot.

When he did, he found a spot several rows away from her.

She watched him stride toward her. The dark-haired officer was at least six-one, maybe a little taller, and moved like one of those strong, silent heroes straight out of the Old West. She sincerely hoped that he would turn out to be Lily’s hero.