Читать книгу To Trust a Cop - Sharon Hartley - Страница 9

CHAPTER ONE

“YEAH, YOU SING about those cheating hearts, Hank honey.”

Merlene Saunders edged up the volume on her car radio. A little down-home music always put her in the mood to catch another cheating husband, and tonight she definitely needed Hank’s help.

Merlene picked up her camcorder, aimed it at the front of Patricia and Rick Johnson’s graceful Spanish-style home and shot thirty seconds of video. From her vantage point behind a row of live oaks she had a clear view of any vehicles coming or going from the Johnsons’ house.

Nothing exciting to record. Just the expensive, lushly landscaped Coral Gables home of a wealthy orthopedic surgeon. A doctor with a nasty little secret.

“Nothing yet,” she murmured, and lowered the video camera.

Convinced his recent late hours had more to do with an attractive new nurse than an excessive patient load, Patricia Johnson had hired Merlene to conduct surveillance on her husband of fifteen years. Merlene glanced at the photo of a flashy blonde clipped to her visor. If the woman showed up at the house while Patricia spent the next month in North Carolina...well, that was more than enough proof for the high-strung and very jealous Mrs. Johnson.

But Merlene knew she would need much more to prove infidelity to the satisfaction of a judge, so she’d signed a contract to follow Dr. Johnson around Miami for a month, if necessary, to get the goods on him.

Merlene knew how to trail a subject—and not get caught—and now had a license that made it legal.

Just ask my ex-husband, she thought. Now, there was a doctor who’d thought he could get away with anything. Merlene shook her head to rid herself of thoughts of her ex. She didn’t want to believe all men were pond scum, but she’d yet to take a case and discover that the husband had been faithful.

She poured a cup of steaming coffee from her battered Thermos and settled in the seat, her gaze fixed on the Johnson residence. Pat had also promised to recommend her to a friend who did the hiring at a major insurance company if she caught Doc Johnson with his mistress. As she sipped, the strong, hot liquid warmed Merlene. Wouldn’t she just love a regular gig tracking down workers’ comp cheats? That would be more rewarding that chasing cheating husbands. She’d also liked the idea of saving the feds a million or so in Medicare fraud.

A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts, and Merlene pulled her cotton blouse away from damp skin. Miami in August and hot coffee didn’t mix, but she needed the caffeine to stay alert.

She had other props to help, her favorite being Häagen-Dazs Chocolate Chocolate-Chip ice cream slowly melting in a blue cooler. Nothing like a jolt of cool, creamy sugar to keep her focused when she got sleepy. She’d packed plenty of crisp tortilla chips and spicy salsa to munch on. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough light to read.

With a sigh, Merlene took another gulp of coffee. The night promised to be a long one. She glanced in the rearview mirror and froze midswallow.

A large figure moved swiftly toward her car.

She dropped her cup in the console and rolled up the window. All four doors were locked. Her keys hung from the ignition for a quick getaway.

“Damn,” she muttered, as the shadowy figure became clearer. As surely as the Grand Ole Opry was in Nashville, a cop of some sort was on his way to speak to her. She’d been able to spot a cop since the age of ten.

No uniform, no marked car visible. Detective, maybe? Could Doc Johnson have spotted her and called 911?

Merlene fished her investigator’s license from her purse and waited for the tall, muscular man to get closer. Early thirties, she guessed, and annoyed about something by the way he punched out determined steps. Good-looking dude from what she could tell, but why the blazes would any man wear a tie in August?

He stopped two feet from the back of her car. “Merlene Saunders?” he shouted. “Miami-Dade County Police.”

So he’d run her license plate. Of course he had.

She rolled down the window and dangled her investigator’s license outside. “I’m unarmed.”

The cop approached and grabbed the license. “You’re a P.I.?”

Craning her head out the window to see his face, she nodded. “Any chance I could see your ID?”

He flashed a detective’s badge, and she barely had time to register the name Cody Warren.

“What’s the problem, Detective Warren?”

He handed back the license, placed his hands on her door and leaned forward to look inside. “What are you doing here, ma’am?”

“I’m on a case.” She patted the camcorder. “Conducting surveillance.”

“Does your surveillance have anything to do with Dr. Richard Johnson?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Then we have a problem.”

“We do?” Merlene stared at Cody Warren, and he glared back with a crystal-blue glare she could easily interpret in the dying light. He didn’t want her here.

Well, so what? She didn’t want him here, either. Cops made her nervous. Plus, his presence could attract attention from the Johnson house.

“Why don’t you hop in and tell me about this problem,” she suggested.

He peered into her tiny car, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I wouldn’t want to sit on your nachos.”

A rush of heat warmed her face. From the chaos surrounding her, it appeared as if a hurricane had blown through her car.

Well, no one ever said conducting a stakeout was easy.

“No problem,” she mumbled, tossing books and snacks into the backseat. She carefully placed the video camera and her new digital camera on the floorboard behind her, then threw her notebook onto the dash next to her binoculars and a deck of cards.

Her compact car became much too small when the cop folded himself into the passenger seat. Damn if his knees didn’t almost reach his chest.

“Does this thing slide back?” Warren asked, reaching for a lever beneath the seat. Before she could answer, he sent the seat zooming back, crackling cellophane and pulverizing her half-eaten bag of corn chips.

He glanced at her. “What the hell was that?”

“My dinner.”

He retrieved the crushed bag from behind the seat and raised an eyebrow. “Very nutritious.”

Merlene lifted her chin. “So I take it you’re with the diet police, Detective Warren. Some sort of special task force to ferret out fat?”

His expression morphed into a scowl. She shifted her weight, knowing she should have curbed her tongue. But that all-knowing male smirk had been too much.

“So what’s your interest in Richard Johnson?” Detective Warren demanded, now all business.

“I’ve been hired to keep track of his activities.”

“By who?”

“That’s confidential.”

He scrubbed his fingers against his chin, and Merlene heard an unmistakable scratch that meant he hadn’t shaved in a while. Long day?

Wishing cops didn’t always make her uneasy, she studied the detective in the fading light. He had an angular yet handsome face, a strong, confident jaw. His nose featured a slight bump, and she wondered if it’d been broken in a fight on the job. From the way he dominated space in the Toyota, he had to be at least six-two. The cotton shirt across his torso confirmed an iron-flat stomach, not an ounce of fat anywhere on him, probably because he never ate junk food.

Good for him.

“Is something wrong, Mrs. Saunders?”

Merlene jerked her gaze to Warren’s face. He watched her with a frown. Lord, what was the matter with her, checking out his body? She swallowed. “I’m wondering why the police are interested in Dr. Johnson.”

Cody shook his head. “Mrs. Saunders, the Miami-Dade Police would greatly appreciate your discontinuing surveillance of the doctor.”

“Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say your presence here could jeopardize a lot of work. Interference with a police investigation is something we take seriously.”

“By sitting here I’m interfering?”

“Possibly.”

“Are you going to give me any details?”

“No, ma’am.”

Merlene sighed, knowing she had to do as he asked. Her boss’s number-one rule was to stay out of the way of the police. She snapped the cover over the camera lens. “Sure, Detective, whatever you say.”

He nodded. “Good.”

Merlene stared through the windshield at the doctor’s house. “What did you do, you bad boy?” she asked softly, then picked up her notebook and entered the time.

The detective planted one foot on the grass, preparing to exit, then paused. “Did you get anybody on tape tonight?”

Merlene shook her head. “Nobody went in or out after I followed him home.”

“All right. The sooner you leave, the better.”

She smiled at his profile and tapped the pen against her cheek. “I’ll bet you’re worried that if he sees me following him, he’ll know you guys are onto him. Am I right?”

Without answering, the detective pulled himself from the car and walked around to the driver’s window. He held out a business card. “If you get anything you think might be helpful, I’d appreciate a call. My cell’s on the back. It’s always on.”

Merlene accepted the card. “If you won’t tell me what’s going on, how will I know what’s helpful?”

His steely gaze bored into her. “I think you’ll know. Thanks for your cooperation, ma’am.”

“Oh, sure. No problem.” She flipped the card against her thigh as he moved away. Why were the police always telling her what to do? As a child, they’d hassled her family with threats of family services and foster homes but never offered a bit of help.

Merlene tossed the card onto her front seat and started the car. She knew better than to get in the way of the police. Besides, she had other methods to keep track of Doc Johnson.

* * *

SOMETHING WAS WRONG. Dead wrong.

Cody couldn’t shake a gnawing feeling in his gut that he’d missed something important. Where was Dr. Richard Johnson?

Months of work to make this case, to put away a dirty doctor who didn’t care who he prescribed narcotics to or what bogus diagnosis he made—not as long as he got a big check from an insurance company—and now the whole damn thing threatened to fall apart.

Waiting for a traffic light to change, he wondered what hole Dr. Johnson had vanished into. Could his disappearance have anything to do with the Saunders woman’s surveillance? An image of the intriguing female private eye he’d encountered the night before flashed through his head. How could a woman who dug for dirt to pay the bills manage to look all wide-eyed and innocent?

The check he’d run on her came back clean. No outstanding wants or warrants, and he wished his credit report looked as solid. She worked for D. J. Cooke Investigations, the man and the firm both reputable, and no one had ever lodged a complaint against her license. The licensing board promised to double check with Cooke and get back to him.

Yeah, maybe her activities had nothing to do with Johnson’s vanishing act, but he didn’t believe in coincidences. A P.I. is on Johnson’s trail one day, and he disappears the next? Had to be a connection. He’d warned his lieutenant they needed twenty-four-hour surveillance to always keep track of the doc’s whereabouts. Damn budget cuts were undermining a lot of investigations these days.

“What the...” He swore under his breath as he turned the corner, spotting the P.I.’s vehicle secreted behind a tree across from Nurse Cole’s apartment building. Merlene Saunders had inserted herself square in the middle of his case again. This time he’d question her more thoroughly.

“Detective Warren,” Merlene said when he leaned in the passenger window. “We have to quit meeting like this.”

He jerked open the door. “You and I need to talk.”

“Have a seat,” she murmured.

Feeling as if he were squeezing into a bulletproof vest, Cody eased into the small car.

“You know,” she said, “it’s hard for me to blend into the surroundings when you’re always hanging around my stakeout.”

He slammed the door. “Who are you working for?”

She shook her head. “That’s confidential information.”

“Must be the wife. She’s worried about the doc and Nurse Linda Cole, whose apartment you’re watching.”

He studied Merlene’s face but wasn’t sure if he’d nailed her game.

“So what can you tell me about Nurse Cole?” Merlene asked.

He shrugged. “I’d rather hear what you can tell me about Dr. Johnson.”

“Truth is...nothing. Yet.” She lifted a video camera from the backseat and aimed it at the apartment. A large emerald-cut diamond glittered on her right ring finger. “Haven’t got anything but test footage to prove I’ve been watching their sorry butts. Never have caught them together.”

“How long have you been on them?” he asked.

“How long do you think?” Merlene lowered the camera. A faint red mark encircled her eye where the camera had pressed into her pale skin, and Cody resisted an urge to touch the spot, wondering why he wanted to smooth away the distrust shimmering in her eyes.

“Five days,” he guessed. “I’ll bet Mrs. Johnson hired you before she flew to Blowing Rock. She thinks the doc is fooling around and wants you to prove it, right?”

Merlene smiled, and the curve of her lips brought a curious sparkle into smoky-gray eyes. Damn but she had a beautiful smile. Shining, almost-black hair fell to her shoulders.

“Am I interfering with a police investigation again?”

Yes, and he needed to get his mind back on business. “If you’re spotted, you could blow months of work. Cooperation would be greatly appreciated.”

She glanced at him sideways, looking doubtful.

“I already showed you my badge,” he said.

“Cooperate how?”

“We’ll trade information.”

“Trade? Yeah, right. Cops just love to trade.” She raised the video camera again and pressed the record button.

“What are you recording?”

“I make a video record of all my activities to substantiate my bill.”

“Good plan,” he said. Hell, she talked like a pro. Time to throw her off balance—find out if she actually was one.

“So what does your husband think of your line of work?”

“I don’t have a husband.”

“Divorced?”

“You know,” she said, placing the camera in her lap, “you are absolutely the rudest man. First it’s my diet and now my marital status?”

He caught her gaze and held it. Beneath delicate brows, her eyes had darkened to an opaque, deeper gray.

She looked away, glancing toward the apartment. Cody admired her flushed cheeks as he chose his next words. Too bad if she didn’t like his probing. It was his job to stir things up and see what kind of reaction he got.

“Guess what,” she whispered in a husky voice. “Linda is on the move.”

He shifted his gaze. Nurse Cole hid behind large, white sunglasses and a floppy straw hat, but there was no mistaking the woman climbing into a white BMW.

Merlene started the car and shoved it into gear.