Читать книгу To Trust a Cop - Sharon Hartley - Страница 11
ОглавлениеCHAPTER TWO
“HEY!” CODY SHOUTED as the car lurched forward.
“I’ve been hired to watch her, remember?” Merlene shot a sideways glance at the detective as she accelerated and found him staring at her, mouth open. Yeah, maybe she shouldn’t have taken off with him in the car, but if she’d waited to get rid of him, she’d have lost her subject. No way was she losing her subject. Linda Cole could be on her way to meet Dr. Johnson.
“You are unbelievable,” he said, fumbling the seat belt across his lap.
“Just cooperating with your investigation.”
“Then don’t follow so closely,” he said.
“Thank you, Detective, for your professional advice, but I’ve never been made on a tail.” She kept her gaze fixed on the road, but the heat of his scrutiny made her squirm. At least the car’s movement created a rush of cooling air.
“And how many tails have you been on?”
“Probably less than you,” she admitted as she stepped harder on the gas. “So Nurse Cole is involved with whatever the doc’s into?”
“You know I can’t answer that.” Cody peered at the speedometer.
“What happened to trading information?”
“Don’t speed,” he said.
“I’m not speeding.” Okay. So she was—but only a little.
Merlene stayed well behind the BMW as she followed the nurse toward Miller Drive, holding out her right hand to test the blessedly cold air blasting from AC vents.
“She’s probably just going to the grocery store,” Merlene muttered. “Won’t even have time to cool the car down.”
Warren loosened his tie. “Glamorous work.”
Suppressing a laugh, she thought of the khaki shorts and sleeveless cotton blouse she wore, her usual surveillance uniform. Some glamour. In case she needed to follow a subject to a more formal atmosphere, she always kept a skirt and jacket hanging in the backseat. A good investigator was always prepared.
“I hope she is going to meet Johnson,” Warren said.
With both vehicles caught by a red light, Merlene scribbled the time and mileage in her notebook. “Why?”
“Because he didn’t show up at his office today.”
She raised her head. “Are you saying you don’t know where he is?”
He rubbed a hand over his chin. “Not at the moment.”
“Why don’t you have him under surveillance?”
“Good question,” Warren said.
“Well, well. I guess you should have let me stay last night,” she said, not even trying to keep satisfied amusement out of her voice. She couldn’t help but enjoy this turn of events. “I’d know his location if you hadn’t run me off.”
Warren answered with a strangled noise.
The BMW turned south on Galloway Road, and Merlene stayed with it.
“How long have you been a private investigator?” he asked.
“Two years. I work with D. J. Cooke Investigations.”
Warren nodded as if he knew where she worked, which she didn’t like one bit. But of course he’d probably verified her license was current and she’d paid all her fees. Fortunately her boss was a stickler for those kinds of details.
“I didn’t know D.J. was still around,” the detective said. “Tell him I said hello.”
Was that a note of respect in Warren’s usually overbearing tone? “You know D.J.?”
“He’s a good man.”
“He is, isn’t he?” She adored her boss, a distant relative from Missouri. He’d taught her how to follow a subject and not get nailed. D.J. was semiretired now, bothered by too many medical problems, but she’d heard tall tales of his exciting career, first as a cop and then a P.I. “Did you ever work together?” She’d love to hear another war story about D.J.’s time on the job.
“My dad knew him,” Warren said in a flat voice.
She threw him a look, but he stared out the windshield, his eyes fixed on the vehicle in front of them.
“Linda is turning into Norman Brothers,” he said.
“Shoot.” Merlene drove slowly past the gourmet grocery, confirmed that her subject had parked in its lot, then turned around at the next intersection.
“I don’t see Johnson’s car,” Merlene said as she drove through the jammed parking lot.
She maneuvered the Corolla into an empty space, then reached into a zippered sports bag in the backseat and selected a red wig.
“You’re going to follow her in?” Warren asked.
“Unless you want to.” Gathering her long hair into a bun, she tugged the wig securely over her head. The detective leaned against the passenger door to watch.
Hating that his scrutiny made her self-conscious, she checked herself in the rearview mirror, rearranged the wig with quick fingers, then grimaced at her pale face surrounded by a mop of hideous red hair.
Oh, definitely a glamorous job, she thought, angry with herself for caring what she looked like.
“Cole might meet the doc here,” she said. “Haven’t you heard the grocery store’s a hot spot to pick up dates?”
“Speaking from experience?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“There you go with rude questions again.”
He grinned. “That’s one hell of a wig.”
“It works.” She placed tortoiseshell frames with clear lenses on her nose. “I don’t want Dr. Johnson to recognize me.”
“The doc won’t meet her here.”
“Probably not,” Merlene agreed, “but it’s my job to confirm that. Stay put and keep the air-conditioning running.”
Without waiting for an answer, she stepped out of the car and breathed a sigh of relief. Detective Warren’s presence made the compact car feel like a toy.
* * *
CODY LAUGHED AS he watched Merlene half run across the lot and enter the grocery. Stay put? Where did she get her nerve? He should have arrested her for kidnapping him.
But he enjoyed the feminine sway of her hips, thinking good things definitely came in small packages. He smiled, guessing this was one lady who never resorted to the grocery to meet members of the opposite sex.
And a meet at a produce market wasn’t Richard Johnson’s style, especially since the good doctor wasn’t having an affair with “Nurse” Cole. Linda Cole had been hired only as a player in Johnson’s elaborate game of fraud and deceit. No wonder the wife got suspicious, considering how much time her husband spent with the bogus Florence Nightingale.
She’d be more likely to hook up with Sean Feldman, the attorney mastermind of the scheme, but a survey of the parking lot didn’t reveal either of his vehicles. Too bad. Merlene could have recorded Nurse Cole and Feldman together. That would be one nice piece of evidence against Feldman, the lawyer who filed lawsuits based on the phony injuries diagnosed by Dr. Johnson, allowing them to fleece insurance companies out of millions. Usually by quick settlement so the insurers didn’t have to even bear the expense of a trial. What an easy con.
So where was Doc Johnson? Had he gotten wind of the coming bust and rabbited? If so, he hadn’t cleaned out any accounts. Didn’t seem likely since he’d made a fortune off his various schemes, including a lucrative pill mill in Hallandale where any addict with an itch could get a prescription for a fee. Cody shook his head, thinking about the greedy physician who’d supplied narcotics to his sister’s husband.
Cody still searched for answers when Linda exited the store and loaded brown paper bags into the trunk of her white BMW. She lit a cigarette, dropped the lighter back in her oversize purse and climbed behind the wheel.
Moments later Merlene slid into the driver’s seat and yanked off the wig. “Oh, that itches.” She scratched her head, her own dark hair cascading to her shoulders in waves.
“You look better with your own hair.”
She stopped scratching and looked up, gray eyes suspicious. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She shoved the car into gear. Neither spoke for a moment as she followed the BMW into traffic.
“Looks like she’s headed home,” he said.
“She didn’t speak to anybody in there except the clerks.” Merlene sighed. “Just a routine trip to get groceries.”
Silence filled the car again. He studied Merlene’s face, trying to figure out why she intrigued him. He liked her, despite her interference. No question she was a looker. She had a fragile, porcelain look, although her attitude was anything but docile. She appeared to be a competent detective, but she was wasting her time attempting to catch Linda Cole and Dr. Johnson together in a romantic tryst. He ought to tell her and save her some effort. She had to be frustrated. He sure as hell knew how that felt.
Plus, he couldn’t help but believe her constant presence around the players in his case had somehow changed the game, had caused Johnson to vanish. The sooner she moved on to other surveillance, the better. This wasn’t just another case to him. This case involved a doctor more interested in cold, hard cash than healing patients, some of them patients like his brother-in-law.
“Have you recorded anyone going into the doctor’s house?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nope. He’s pretty damn boring, if you ask me. His wife is probably well rid of him.”
“Because he’s boring?”
“He’s a crook, too, right?”
Cody nodded. “Listen... Mrs. Saunders...”
“Don’t tell me. I’m interfering and you don’t want me to mention anything about a police investigation to my client.”
“Actually, I’ve decided to help you,” he said. “I’ll save you the headache of following Cole around.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then call me Merlene.” She tossed him a look. “I don’t answer to Mrs. Saunders. That’s my ex’s mother, thank you very much. Not me.”
Amused by her prickly tone, Cody relaxed against the seat. He’d known her marital status, but now he knew how she felt about her ex.
“So how are you going to help me?” she asked.
“You’re wasting your time chasing Linda Cole. Dr. Johnson isn’t romantically involved with her.”
“My client thinks otherwise.”
Cody nodded. “He’s spending a lot of time with her, but only to make money, not love. They won’t meet outside the office.” He watched while she turned the information over in her mind.
“You’re sure?” she asked.
“We’ve got them on audio, and it’s all been pure business.”
“Interesting.” Merlene remained quiet for a moment. “But not good enough for my client. She wants concrete proof, and I can’t exactly tell her my info came from the cops, now, can I?”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t,” he said. Merlene’s sarcasm bothered him, but he wasn’t sure why. She seemed to take particular delight in antagonizing him. Hey, he was trying to help her.
“I don’t know.”
Fascinated, he watched her absently twirl a strand of thick hair around a long, graceful finger, the diamond ring flashing with her movements.
“I’ll run it by D.J.” She dropped her hand to the steering wheel and narrowed her eyes. “But don’t feed me any nonsense about you pulling my license if I don’t back off. I know you can’t do that. It takes months...probably a year to suspend a P.I.’s license.”
“I didn’t say one word about suspending your license.”
They’d arrived back at Linda’s apartment. Without speaking again, Merlene pulled in next to his white, unmarked unit.
“Are you going or staying?” he asked, not caring that he sounded sharp.
“Going. For now. I’ll let D.J. tell me what to do. I trust him.” She met his gaze as if daring him to object.
“Fine,” Cody said. “I don’t want to say, ‘See you around,’ exactly, but...”
She crossed her arms. “I won’t promise to stay out of your way.”
“Then I guess I will see you around.”
* * *
“LICENSING BOARD?” Merlene stared at D. J. Cooke behind his cluttered desk. She’d thought her boss looked more tired than usual. Now she knew why. “What do you mean you’ve heard from the licensing board?”
“Something about your client’s husband,” D.J. said with a sigh. “Interference with the police. They’re sending an investigator out next week to interview me.”
“They’re starting an investigation?”
“Routine, I’m sure,” D.J. said.
“Damn that Cody Warren,” Merlene muttered. “I knew he was nothing but trouble.”
“Cody Warren?”
She nodded. “That’s the cop who rousted me off surveillance on the Johnson case.”
“Cody. Doggone it. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a dog’s age.”
In spite of her annoyance, Merlene grinned at D.J.’s wrinkled face. Her boss always resorted to Ozark slang on a trip down memory lane.
“He remembered you, too,” she said. “He said you were a good man. His exact words.” She stared at her lap, organizing her notes from the surveillance. “That’s the only nice thing he said all day. I should have known he’d pull something like this.”
D.J. made a clucking sound. “Little Cody. I’m glad he stuck it out.”
“Well, he’s not little anymore,” she said, remembering the way his white shirt had stretched across a muscular back.
D.J. didn’t seem to hear her. “It sure was rough on him there for a while.”
She raised her gaze. “What was?”
D.J. sighed. “Bad business. His dad was a longtime beat cop and got caught shaking down shop owners for protection money. Cody was a rookie when the scandal broke.”
“He seems to have survived.” So she and Cody had the same rotten luck when it came to their parents.
“I can’t rightly recall what happened to Bill Warren, but Cody became a cop who plays it strictly by the book.” Tapping his glasses against his cheek, D.J. swiveled in his chair and looked out the office window. “He worked in homicide for a while, then asked for assignment to the fraud division.”
Merlene followed his gaze outside to a suburban backyard. Two small brown squirrels chased each other around the gnarled trunk of an avocado tree. Her boss conducted business out of his home now, taking only an occasional case, allowing Merlene to work as many surveillance jobs as she could land.
She watched the squirrels fuss at each other. Probably squirrel husband and wife, she thought. But at least one of them still wanted the other.
D.J. coughed. Not liking the sound, she shifted her gaze back to his face and really didn’t like what she saw. D.J. looked exhausted. No, more than that. He looked sick, his face as pale and white as his hair.
“Hey, are you okay, boss?” she asked softly.
“Fit as a fiddle,” he said with the wave of a thin hand. “Don’t worry about me.” D.J. swiveled back and placed his forearms on the desk. “I’ve handled much worse problems in my career.”
She nodded, thinking he definitely didn’t need the stress of a Division of Licensing inquiry at this stage in his life.
“What should I tell Mrs. Johnson?” she asked.
“You’ve never seen the doctor and the nurse together away from the office?” D.J. asked.
“Never.”
“Call your client. Tell her you’ve got nothing. Let her make the decision.”
Merlene nodded. “Good enough. I’ll even offer to refund some of the retainer.”
“Is money part of the problem in this marriage? From the home address, I thought they were loaded.”
“Could be. I definitely get the feeling the doc keeps her on a tight leash,” Merlene said. “And I remember what it’s like to be divorced, broke and unemployed. Scary. Maybe she’s got nobody to help her. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know where I’d be right now.” D.J. and his wife had been there for her when she hit rock bottom after the divorce.
“You’ll always be fine, Merl. You’ve taken care of yourself since you were knee-high to a grasshopper.”
She smiled at yet another of his country clichés and then shrugged. “I’m also thinking her husband might soon be in jail. That’s my next question. Should I tell her the cops are investigating Dr. Johnson?”
“No. If she calls her husband and tips him off, it could torpedo an important case. My policy is to always cooperate with the police.”
Merlene nodded. “I wonder what he’s done.”
With a thoughtful smile, D.J. leaned back in his chair. “Probably some kind of fraud. Or selling narcotic prescriptions to bogus patients. Maybe he’s become addicted himself. Doctors can be quite creative.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” she said as she stood. “Remember, my ex was one of the great creative healers of all time.”
D.J. chuckled, which turned into a cough as he waved Merlene out. “Good luck on the Harris case tomorrow.”
She turned back. “Thanks. You know how much I hate testifying.”
“Are you ready?”
She sighed, wishing tomorrow and her court appearance were already over. “I’ve typed my report and been over it four times.”
D.J. nodded. “Good. Make sure you can prove chain of custody on the video. Judge Robinson is a stickler for details.”
“You got it. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
Merlene stole a last look at D.J. as she exited his office and paused in the doorway. A tickle of worry nudged at her thoughts as she watched him struggle to take a breath, an effort which prompted a deep cough.
No wanting him to watch her hovering, she stepped out of his view, but waited in the hallway until his hacking ceased and she knew he was okay.
Moving toward her car, she wondered about D.J.’s health. Of course, he hated it when she fussed over him, but, damn, how could she help worrying? Seemed he was deteriorating a little each day. Well, too bad if he didn’t like her nagging about his meds. She’d keep reminding him anyway.
* * *
WHEN MERLENE’S TIRES crunched gravel in the driveway of her Coconut Grove home, she wished all her problems were as simple as proving the authenticity of her evidence. Her video of a philandering John Harris had never left her possession and certainly hadn’t been tampered with. The pickiest judge in the country would have no basis to exclude her absolute proof of infidelity.
But she was more worried about D.J. Anyone could tell his cough had worsened, and she suspected he hid something from her. He didn’t act worried about the investigation triggered by Detective Warren, but maybe that was a ruse, too. Were they in serious trouble with the licensing board thanks to Warren?
But they hadn’t done anything wrong, so why would they be?
And she dreaded talking to her client. She’d rather keep trustworthy records anytime than talk to a distraught wife about discontinuing surveillance on her jerk of a husband. All of this mess thanks to Cody Warren. The nerve of that man. So he’d really gone after her license.
Her mood lightened as she walked across the shaded front yard, savoring the scent of blooming gardenias. She’d bought this small, eighty-year-old house after her divorce from Peter, the only real home she’d ever had. To her, home meant safety, a refuge, a place to hide. She’d never felt any of those things while living with Peter.
After unlocking the front door, she collapsed onto her green leather couch and tossed her briefcase onto the cushion next to her. No way to hide from calling Mrs. Johnson tonight.
The phone rang before she’d had time to slip off her shoes.
“What have you found out about my husband and that woman?” Pat Johnson demanded. Merlene closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Nothing yet, Pat. In fact, I’ve seen no evidence at all after five days.”
Mrs. Johnson lowered her voice, as if conveying a sensitive government secret. “I think Rick is in Ocala.”
Merlene sat up. “Ocala?”
“We have a horse farm in Marion County, one of his little hobbies. I rarely visit, but I think he and that slut nurse are there together right now.”
“No, Pat. The nurse has been in her apartment all day. I was sitting out front. Listen, I’ll give you back half the retainer if you want to call this off.”
“Absolutely not. I know I’m right. Stay on it, Merlene, please.”
Merlene cringed at the insistence in Pat’s voice. “Pat, I hate to see you waste your money. I think there’s a chance that—”
“That he’s involved in something illegal?”
Merlene rose to her feet, clutching the cord. “Why do you say that?”
“I’m not stupid, and I have an office key,” Pat said. “Ever since that Linda Cole took over Rick’s office, billings have doubled. I think she’s gotten him involved in something, well, frankly, sordid. I have a feeling it’s not...legal.” Merlene waited as Pat sucked in a breath to regain control of her voice. “That’s why you have to...to prove their affair, so I can force him to break it off, get rid of her.” After another pause she said, “I have two children, Merlene. They need their father.”
“But, Pat...”
“I’ll double your fee.”
Merlene stopped pacing. So money obviously wasn’t a problem for Mrs. Johnson. She sighed. “All right, Pat. I’ll do my best. Tell me why you think your husband is in Ocala.”
“Because I got a call from a friend. He’s been seen in town. Alone, thank goodness. I want you to drive up there and check it out. Maybe his nurse is going to meet him there.”
“I guess that’s possible,” Merlene murmured, although if Cody were right, that definitely wouldn’t happen. But who was she to argue with her client?
“I’ll leave tomorrow afternoon,” Merlene said, now thinking with pleasure of a visit upstate courtesy of Pat Johnson’s expense account. The scenery in northern Florida reminded her of the Midwest—more woodsy, a lot less people crowding the roads. More room to breathe. She could leave as soon as she finished her testimony in the Harris divorce. The trip would provide a much-needed break from city life.
“Even when he comes back to Miami I want you to stay on this,” Mrs. Johnson continued. “I need to get absolute proof of his infidelity. Remember what I told you about my friend at Union Farm Insurance. One word from me and the job is yours.”
“Of course I’d appreciate that, Pat.” If she could nail a high-billing insurance gig, maybe D.J. could finally retire.
“Then do not let my husband out of your sight. Have you got a pen? I’ll give you directions.”
“Trouble,” Merlene muttered when she’d disconnected, staring at the address she’d jotted down, wondering if it would be hard to find. Her client might want her to stay on the case, but Detective Warren would not be happy. No indeed.
She relaxed against her sofa cushions, her thoughts drifting to Cody Warren. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man and his piercing blue eyes that noticed everything. What was really strange was how she actually liked how they circled each other, seeing who would give up information first. Enjoying that kind of conversation made absolutely no sense. He’d probably turn out to be another macho cop convinced he knew everything, one who didn’t care who he hurt as he shoved his way through life.
No, that wasn’t fair. After all, he had clued her in about the doctor and his nurse. He didn’t have to do that. He could have let her spin her wheels for weeks chasing the pair trying to catch them together. But then he’d probably told her so she wouldn’t keep sticking her nose into his big case.
His case. She sighed, tapping the pen against her chin. D.J. always cautioned her not to interfere with active police investigations. And she supposed his case was important, would in some way protect the citizens of Miami-Dade County. For sure Cody acted as if he thought the case was vital, although he wouldn’t tell her anything specific.
So should she clue him in about Johnson being in Ocala? After all, he’d helped her. How had he put it? Trade information? Actually, telling him might be fun since he didn’t know where the doc was. Did the cops even know about the horse farm in Ocala? If so, had they bothered to look there?
She wrapped her arms around her knees and smiled, deciding to find Cody before her drive to North Florida. How would Mr. Don’t-Interfere-with-My-Case Warren react when she supplied him information he didn’t have? She nibbled at her bottom lip, picturing how he’d respond to her news, how those eyes would drill into her. Maybe she could get more details out of him about what the heck was going on with Dr. Johnson, why the cops were so hot to find him.
She’d follow D.J.’s advice and not reveal to Pat Johnson anything Cody told her. Still, her client already suspected something was up and blamed Nurse Linda Cole. But Cody insisted the nurse and the doctor were not involved romantically.
So what was really going on?
* * *
CODY RECOGNIZED HER by the maddening sway of her hips and the bounce of that amazing cascade of hair. He knew he’d run into Merlene Saunders again but hadn’t expected it to be so soon, and definitely not in the lobby of the Miami-Dade County Courthouse.
What was she doing here? For sure not following Nurse Cole for Pat Johnson. The nurse had shown up in Dr. Johnson’s office this morning like clockwork.
He was anxious for his conference with the prosecutor on the Johnson case, but seeing Merlene made him want to slow down and find out what she was up to.
“Hold it,” he shouted, and stuck his hand into the closing elevator. The doors jumped open and he squeezed in the crowded car beside her.
“Morning,” he said, letting his gaze wander over her tiny but shapely form. She did indeed look good.
“Detective Warren,” she said.
He smiled down at her, noting her briefcase and a professional navy blue suit. Leaning over, he spoke close to her ear. “If I didn’t know better, Merlene, I’d say you were a lawyer ready for trial.”
She switched her briefcase to the front of her body and grasped it with both hands. “I’m here as a witness.”
“Ah. Keeping Miami-Dade County safe from cheating husbands?”
Smoky-gray eyes shifted from the elevator door to meet his gaze. Her discomfort was easy to read. “And to think I’d decided to help you.”
Damn. He’d forgotten she had no sense of humor. “Help me?”
She shrugged and raised her chin.
The elevator stopped on six, and he nodded at two smiling clerks from Judge White’s office as they exited. “Ladies.”
When the doors closed and the car resumed its upward motion, he turned back to Merlene. “How are you going to help me?”
Although all eyes focused politely elsewhere, he knew the remaining occupants of the car listened to their conversation. Merlene knew it, too, and shot him a chilling glance, one meant to shut him up.
He caught her gaze and smiled. She hesitated, then shook her head. Pleasure slid past Cody’s defenses as her full lips curved into a tentative smile. She faced the burnished metal doors again.
“Never mind,” she said. “Maybe I’ll call you later.”
“Why not talk now?”
“I’m due in court.”
He studied her profile, thinking she was as lovely in the harsh, artificial light of the elevator as she had been in the softer, muted shadows of early evening. A subtle, warm fragrance of citrus—was it lemon or orange?—hung in the air.
As the car slowed down for the tenth floor—his stop—he said, “Last chance, Merlene.”
She threw him an unreadable look. “Good luck, Detective.”
Tucking his arm into hers, he drew her out of the elevator with him.
“Hey...” She pulled away, but the doors had already closed behind them.
Cody released her arm and threw her a grin. “Now you know how it feels to be abducted.”
“This is not the same and you know it.”
“No?”
“No.” Merlene jabbed the call button, but at this busy time of the morning in this old building it would take forever for another elevator to arrive. She was already nervous about testifying, and now she’d probably be late. Damn Cody.
“I need to be on the twelfth floor in about two minutes,” she said, “and now—thanks to you—I’ll be late.”
“Maybe you should have left home earlier.”
She punched the button again, knowing her impatience wouldn’t hurry the machinery in the least, wishing she could jab her finger into Cody’s chest instead.
“What’s going on, Merlene? I know you have something to tell me.”
“And how do you know that?” Furious, she turned to confront him but was stopped by his probing gaze, a look that brought all of her senses to full alert. Warmth spread outward from the spot on her arm where he had touched her.
“Because I’m a detective,” he said.
“Yeah? Well, so am I.” And she had never been as aware of a man as she was of Cody Warren at this moment, of his height a full foot over her, of the confident way he stood, of a muscular body full of power and authority. Sexy as hell, and infuriating.
Turning back to the elevator, she looked up at the light. At least a car was descending. But of course it stopped on twelve—her floor.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm herself. “Did you ever find Dr. Johnson?”
“No. We still don’t know where the hell he is.”
“I might know.”
He took a step closer. “Yeah? Where?”
“His wife thinks he’s in Ocala. I’m driving up this afternoon to check it out at her request.”
“She thinks he’s staying at the ranch?”
“Exactly.” So Cody knew about the ranch. Of course he did. She took a sideways glance at him and decided he looked confused. Yes, this was fun.
“Why would the doc go to the ranch in the middle of the week? He had a calendar full of patients.”
“I don’t know why, but a friend spotted him in town and my client wants me to investigate. She thinks he’s there with Nurse Cole on some sort of romantic getaway.” Merlene shrugged. “We know different, of course, but I couldn’t convince her.”
Cody ran a hand through his thick, sun-streaked hair. “Going to Ocala right now makes no sense.”
“What do you mean? Why doesn’t it make sense?” She’d given Cody some good info. Maybe he’d share some in return.
“Did you tell Pat Johnson about the police investigation?”
“I know better than that.” She sighed. Cody loved to answer a question with a question. Great strategy to wiggle off the hook. And once again, she learned nothing.
“I was wondering if that’s what made Johnson disappear,” he said.
“Well, if he knows, I promise that info didn’t come from me.”
“Thanks,” Cody said. “I appreciate it.”
“I can tell you this, though,” Merlene said. “Pat suspects her husband is into something illegal and that our Nurse Cole led him down that crooked path.”
Cody laughed. “Yeah, women are a bad influence.”
“Not funny. She’s worried about her kids.”
“Yeah, I’m aware he has kids.” He shook his head and after a pause said, “Ocala doesn’t add up.”
“Maybe not,” Merlene agreed, “but as long as my client pays my bill, I do what she asks.”
Cody jammed balled fists into his pants pockets; body language that told her he was really worried about something. What was it? Damn. Why wouldn’t he tell her anything?
“Do you carry a gun?” he asked.
“A gun?” She stabbed the lit elevator button again. “For surveillance? I don’t think so.”
“Surveillance is all you do?”
“That’s all I’m interested in doing. Besides, D.J. says don’t carry a gun unless you plan on using it.”
He nodded. “Good advice. Listen...watch yourself.”
That unexpected comment caused her to face him again. “Do you know something I don’t? Is there something special I should look out for?”
His blue eyes searched her face. For a moment she thought he was going to give her something, but then he tightened his jaw. “You’re in a profession that could be dangerous. Just be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
He nodded, looking doubtful. “Call me when you get back.”
“What for? Wait. You actually expect me to report in? Tell you what I found in Ocala?”
“Cooperation is a good thing, Merlene. Remember?”
The elevator doors bounced open, and she stepped into the crowded car.
“You have my card,” he said. “Call me.” He held his hand to his ear, mimicking a phone.
She stared at him as the doors closed between them and wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. She would have, too, if this elevator hadn’t been as full at the last one.
So this overbearing man screws around with not only her license, but D.J.’s license, and then expects her to call him with a report? Amazing. The nerve. Especially since he hadn’t shared a thing of use with her.
Detective Cody Warren was driving her crazy.
