Body Heat (26 page)

 

The call came much sooner than Sophia had expected. She wished she'd ignored it, let it go to voice mail and
saved herself the humiliation of facing Mayor Schilling and the other four council members when she already felt so beleaguered. But she wasn't sure she'd feel any stronger tomorrow. Her days seemed to be getting steadily worse, no matter what she did. So she'd taken the call and received her summons and here she was, hurrying so she wouldn't be late. Pride wouldn't allow her to skulk off and hide just because the powers that be had obviously heard the rumors about her. She hadn't had an affair with her stepfather. Despite Leonard and his attempts to damage her reputation, there'd been no impropriety on her part at all. And maybe she'd slept with Rod, which probably wasn't the best decision, but she didn't think one night's escape affected her ability to do her job. If she was never really off duty, they had to give her enough leeway to live a little while she was
on
duty, didn't they? Besides, technically she'd been off.

But it wouldn't matter. Not to most of the council. Bordertown was nothing if not conservative; it was surprising they'd promoted her to chief of police in the first place. And, whether her private life was any of their business or not, she had to answer to them. So she'd hold her head high and fulfill that responsibility along with all the rest.

As she stood in the back of the room, Paul Fedorko glanced up and nudged Liz Torres, who was sitting next to him. Schilling was in the middle of a tirade about budget overages on the city park being built on Hampton Street, but everyone on the council was soon murmuring and fidgeting, and Sophia knew they were distracted by her presence. Their preoccupation became so noticeable that the short, stout mayor, who'd always reminded her of the man behind the mirrors in
The Wizard of Oz,
finally
turned to see what was going on and gave up trying to make his point.

“Chief St. Claire, thank you for responding to our invitation,” he said. “Please, come up and join us.”

Taking a deep breath, she forced her legs to carry her to the conference table, where she sat in one of a handful of empty seats. Despite the mayor's polite address, there was a frostiness in his manner that had never been there before. That, combined with the reluctance of certain people to look her in the eye, spelled trouble. She was going to be given another warning, probably a harsh one. They'd tell her that her behavior as a public servant was under constant scrutiny and that they expected her to comport herself as a true professional at all times. Then they'd make it clear, once again, that they required a quick resolution to the illegal immigrant murders. And she'd tell them about everything she'd been doing, hoping to convince them that she was, indeed, fulfilling the requirements of the job.

She had no idea what they might have to say about Stuart's death, however. Some of them had known him as well as she had. They were all grieving, which made the situation even worse and meant they'd want answers she didn't have. Rod was the only person she knew with any kind of significant grudge against Stuart. She couldn't guess why anyone else would want him dead, unless his murder was what they'd feared might happen all along, an act motivated by revenge against Americans. They wouldn't want to hear that. But she wasn't about to let Edna and her friends and relatives villainize Rod. Maybe he'd had issues with Stuart, but he didn't kill him.

Hoping she'd be able to convey that with sensitivity and clarity, she waited as Wayne Schilling turned the floor over to Liz Torres. Councilwoman Torres shuffled the
papers in front of her, formed them into a neat stack and got to her feet. Instead of avoiding Sophia's gaze the way she had a moment before, she nearly leveled her with an angry, piercing glare.

“Chief St. Claire,” she said tightly. “It is with the
utmost
regret that I must make you aware of the terrible disappointment you have become to the city and, in particular, those members of this council who lobbied so hard to have you instated as chief of police. It was a first for the women of this town and I was especially pleased. I felt you'd do a good job, that you'd be honest and forthright—”

“I've been both of those things!” Sophia interrupted, taking exception to the councilwoman's tone.

“Nevertheless, there has been substantial evidence of conduct unbecoming a public official.”

Sophia also got to her feet. “If you're referring to the picture you were shown at the—”

Councilwoman Torres lifted her hand. “Please, allow me to finish.”

Stifling all the protests that clogged her throat, Sophia kept still.

“We have deliberated long and hard on what should be done about your behavior,” she continued. “Most of the afternoon, in fact. And it is with great sadness and reluctance that I must inform you we need to make a change.”

This didn't sound anything like her previous warnings. No one else was chiming in, redirecting the conversation, disagreeing, adding details. Everyone, except Torres, who Sophia now understood to be her “executioner,” sat still.

“What are you saying?” Sophia asked. “Are you firing me?”

“We're giving you thirty days' notice, Chief St. Claire.
We'll be interviewing other candidates for the position of chief at our earliest convenience.”

Heart pounding, Sophia straightened her shoulders. She had so much to say. And yet there was one question that seemed more important than all the rest. “And do those candidates include Leonard Taylor?”

Liz bent her head. “If Mr. Taylor cares to apply, we'll consider his application as well as everyone else's.”

“He raped a woman!”

“A nasty accusation to be sure, but one that's never been proven. For all we know, his accuser was lying to get back at him for some slight. Or…you were.”

“You've got to be kidding me!”

“I don't want to believe that. But we can't ignore that you had sufficient motivation.”

“This is unreal!”

“That's it for now. We will address our specific complaints in a formal letter.”

Sophia swept her arm around the room. “Why not do it now? When we're all sitting here face-to-face?”

Richard Lantus coughed into his hand. Deep down he knew, and so did one or two of the others, that they were using gossip as an excuse to get rid of her. Her age and gender were the real reasons behind this, just as they'd been the issues that had caused problems with her appointment. She was fine when policing the city consisted of passing out a few parking tickets and hauling in drunks, but give her a murder case and even Paul Fedorko pulled his support. Now that the situation had turned dicey, they were too afraid to go out on a limb. And although Liz claimed to be big on women's rights, she cared more about punishing Sophia for the sin of fornication than she did advancing the cause of women. She'd recently become a
very devout follower of her faith and seemed compelled to push her religion onto others.

“Fine,” she said. “If you must know, we have taken testimony from Detective Lindstrom—”

“Who's a good friend of Leonard Taylor's!” Sophia broke in. “Don't you get it? This is the same fight we had before. Except now, those of you who were brave enough to take a stand against Leonard's misuse of power are willing to embrace it again as long as it relieves the difficult situation we've found ourselves in. You don't believe I'm capable of solving the UDA murders. But how do you know the next person will be any better? These are random slayings, the hardest to deal with.”

“Leonard Taylor says he could've solved them by now.” This came from Paul Fedorko, which only proved her theory about his defection.

“If he knows something about these murders and he's not coming forward, he deserves to be punished right along with the perpetrator,” she said.

“It's not just the UDA murders,” Torres responded with that same disapproving tone. “We talked to Dr. Vonnegut, too.
Everyone
has issues with you. And now, one of our own is dead—God rest his soul.”

“You're blaming
me
for that?”

“Of course not. But we can't help wondering if we'd had someone who was taking the job more seriously—”

The ferocity with which Sophia shoved aside the empty chair between them surprised Liz into silence. “More seriously than working day and night?” she cried.

“You were hardly working last night, now were you, Chief?” The speaker was Neil Munoz, who'd stood by Leonard Taylor from the beginning. His smug smile told
Sophia he'd been looking forward to this moment as much as Leonard.

“Unless Mr. Guerrero made some form of payment we're not aware of…” he added as an aside to Schilling, who snickered.

“I had consensual sex with a man my own age and in the privacy of my own home,” she said. “I don't see how that affects my job.”

Liz jumped back into the fray. “It doesn't look good. You're the chief of police, for crying out loud. Show some restraint. I mean, we've got naked pictures of you floating around, and…and rumors that you're having a sexual relationship with your stepfather, and—”

“None of that is true! I slept with Rod. That's it.”

Her expression remained pinched with distaste. “Still…”

“Still?” Sophia burst out. “None of us are perfect, Councilwoman Torres. Weren't you kicked out of your church once upon a time for getting pregnant out of wedlock?”

Liz's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Her shock and embarrassment were gratifying enough to make Sophia want to go around the room, naming something that would embarrass them all. But what was the point? These people held a great deal of power in Bordertown, and they felt it gave them the right to be judgmental and self-righteous whenever it suited their purposes. Obviously, the political winds had changed, and she was caught in the cross draft.

“How dare you!” Liz sputtered when no one else came to her defense.

“No, how dare
you,
” Sophia responded.

“Does that mean you quit?” Neil sang out, and it was
then that Sophia realized she was destroying all hope for a career in law enforcement by letting her anger take control. She was also paving the way for Leonard to get what he wanted. She had to rein in her temper, get ahold of herself.

With as much dignity and calm as she could muster, she turned to confront Neil. “No, I won't quit,” she said. “I owe it to the people of this community to protect them as best I can during the coming transition. Maybe you've forgotten what's happening here, but I haven't. We've got at least one killer on the loose. And, as far as I'm concerned, that killer could be Leonard Taylor. You might keep that in mind when you interview him for the position of chief of police, because he's playing you. He's playing us all.”

Pivoting once again, she stomped out and slammed the door.

R
od was waiting for Sophia when she returned home. Sitting in his Hummer with the seat back, he had his feet up on the dash and was reading the paper. It was getting fairly late—eight-fifteen, according to the clock in her cruiser—but the sun hadn't yet gone down.

Sophia didn't know how long he'd been parked in front of her house, but he was the last person she wanted to see. Twisting the rearview mirror toward her, she quickly checked her makeup. Would he be able to tell she'd been crying?
Yes…
Of course he would. Swollen eyes stared back at her from a splotchy face. Even her nose was red from the number of times she'd blown it since leaving that council meeting.

He opened her door while she took her time collecting her purse and other belongings. “I dropped by the station,” he said. “I thought you'd be starting at eight, as usual. But the place was locked up. What's going on?”

Briefly protected by the curtain of her hair as it fell forward, she slipped her car keys in her purse. “The sheriff's office is covering for me tonight.”

“Why?”

She found a pair of sunglasses and put them on before looking up. “We contract with them to patrol whenever
we need the extra help. Unless someone dials the station's direct line, all emergency calls go through their dispatchers anyway.”

“So you have the night off.”

“Basically.”

“But…what's going on?” He hesitated. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“You haven't been answering your cell.”

“I turned it off.”

“What if there'd been a break in the case?”

“Which case?” They seemed to be piling up. Maybe the council had been right to fire her….

“Either case.”

“That would take luck. Something I don't seem to have at the moment.” She attempted a laugh, but it didn't sound very convincing.

“This isn't over yet,” he said. “We're going to find the son of a bitch who's killing illegal aliens. And we're going to figure out who shot Stuart. You can't expect too much too soon. These things take time.”

That was the one commodity she didn't have. Not anymore. In just four weeks someone else would take over. Where would she go then? What would she do? Until those poor victims in the desert had forced her to question her investigative abilities, she'd thought she'd found her niche in life. “We'll see.”

Hoping to step around him and into the house before he could get a good look at her, she got out of the car. But he blocked her path and caught her chin, tilting it up so he could see her face. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

He removed her sunglasses. “Sophia—”

Grabbing the glasses, she pulled out of his grasp. “What does it matter to you? You'll either solve these murders or you won't. And then you'll leave and go back to your other life, in which Bordertown will cease to exist for you. You'll be able to go on, completely unaffected by events here and you won't have to live with the aftermath.”

“You think I'll be able to forget that Stuart was
murdered?
That my father suspects
I
did it?” He strode after her.

“You don't care about your father's opinion, remember?” she replied, tossing the words over her shoulder.

“Maybe I'm not quite as indifferent as I'd like to believe. Have you ever considered that?”

“No.” She was safer
not
to consider it. Because then she'd start hoping that he did care.
About her.

He followed her into the house, pausing to shut the door with his foot. “What went wrong today? I mean, besides the obvious.”

She hurried into the kitchen without stopping. “They fired me, okay? I have thirty days while they interview possible replacements.”

He nearly missed a step. “You're kidding.”

“That wouldn't be my idea of a joke. Although
this
should be funny—I bet it'll be Leonard Taylor who replaces me.”

A frown tugged at his lips as he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorway. “Come on, they couldn't be
that
stupid.”

“Wanna bet? He's been talking big, telling everyone that he could've solved these murders weeks ago. That Stuart never would've been killed if he'd been chief of police.”

“That's easy to say when you don't have to prove it.”

“Doesn't matter that it's all talk. It's what they want to hear. Think about it. The council's so desperate they're searching for a savior, and he's setting himself up as just that.”

“Which has given his supporters a chance to gain power again and reverse everything that happened when you were hired.”

“Exactly. But it's all good for you, right?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Your revenge is complete. Not only did you bag the girl who stood you up for Homecoming, you stuck around long enough to see it ruin her career.”

His frown darkened into a scowl. “That's not what I wanted. Besides,
I
didn't tell anyone,
you
did.”

She slumped into a chair. “I know,” she said miserably.

“Why'd you do it?”

“Isn't it obvious? I couldn't let them continue investigating you when I knew you weren't involved.”

“Yes, you could have. They wouldn't have been able to pin Stuart's murder on me.”

Pressing a finger and thumb against her closed eyelids, she shook her head. “Innocent people go to prison all the time, Rod. Why take the chance?”

The difficult-to-read front he sometimes maintained slipped, giving her a glimpse into the far more accessible, maybe even vulnerable, man she'd made love with last night. “Because, contrary to what you might think, I don't want to be responsible for this,” he said.

She dropped her hand so she could look at him—and recognized that, even now, after her whole world had collapsed, she wanted to touch him. And she wanted it more than last night.

“How ironic,” she muttered.

His eyebrows came together. “What's ironic?”

“Nothing,” she said, but she found
all
of it ironic. For years, she hadn't been able to summon much passion for the men she dated, hadn't even realized it was passion that was missing. Not until Rod had walked back into her life had she felt so compelled to be with someone.

She was finally tempted to love—the one person most likely to hurt her.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “What do you want from me?”

He crossed the room and squatted in front of her. “I'm sorry.”

Sophia wasn't sure why he was apologizing. For the resentment he felt toward her? For giving her mixed signals, treating her as if he couldn't keep his hands off her one minute and snubbing her the next? For being part of the reason she'd lost her job?

Maybe that “I'm sorry” was meant to cover it all.

She told herself to accept his apology and let it go at that. If she was careful, maybe she could finish out her month without making her situation any worse. It was even possible they'd solve the UDA murders or Stuart's murder or both, as he'd said. Then she could probably get a recommendation and find a job somewhere else.

But she didn't speak. She couldn't come up with the right words. Instead, she raised her hand and ran her fingers down the side of his face, feeling the rugged contours, the prickly beard growth and, eventually, the softness of his mouth.

His eyes drifted closed as she touched him.

“You're so handsome,” she said.

Parting his lips, he flicked his tongue against the pad
of her thumb, and that was all it took for desire to swallow Sophia's other, far more conflicting emotions. “
And
you're dangerous,” she added.

His hand went behind her neck, bringing her mouth to his for the lightest, sweetest kiss she'd ever had. “I'm harmless,” he whispered. Then his tongue met hers and five minutes later he had her naked on the living room floor.

 

Rod didn't want to think about what he was doing, didn't want to examine the consequences. He knew he shouldn't be forming any ties to Bordertown. His goal, from the beginning, had been to break free. He'd only come back to do his duty by his mother's people—to stop a killer—and, at the same time, celebrate the fact that he'd escaped so cleanly.

Instead, he was celebrating the feel of the girl he'd always wanted clinging to him with her bare skin against his. Why couldn't he resist her? It wasn't, as he'd thought before, that he had something to prove to Stuart. Stuart was gone for good. Rod couldn't even claim he was acting to satisfy the promise of a dream long denied. He'd fulfilled that promise last night.

So what the hell was he doing? Sophia belonged to his past, and yet, when he made love to her, he forgot all the reasons he wanted to turn his back on her. The rise and fall of her chest, her hands clutching his hair, her mouth moving greedily on his—these were the only things that seemed important.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, but enough light filtered in that he could see her, and of that he was glad. Last night he'd welcomed the darkness. It had allowed him to hide what he wasn't ready to reveal. This time, he
didn't have that same need. He wasn't sure what Sophia meant to him, but she meant
something,
and he wasn't afraid to let her know. Whatever they had, for however long it lasted, he wanted it to be honest.

“You make me forget,” he murmured against her neck.

She angled her chin. “Forget what?”

Smiling at her breathless response, he pinned her hands above her head and pulled back to admire her. “Everything.”

As she gazed up at him with her hair fanning out on the floor, her body glistening with a damp layer of sweat and her pupils so dilated that her eyes looked black, he thought she had to be the most striking woman he'd ever seen. He even liked her tattoo sleeve because it was so much a part of who she'd come to be.

A crease in her forehead told him she wasn't quite sure how to take his words. But she didn't question him. “You make me remember,” she said.

He wondered where she was going with this. “Remember what?”

A faint smile curved her lips. “Everything.”

He didn't ask her to explain. Whatever they felt, it was too new to define. It was there. They'd acknowledged it. That was enough.

“Good. Then remember this,” he said, and bent to kiss her again.

 

It had grown completely dark outside, but Sophia was still on the living room floor with Rod. She was too exhausted to move, even to the bedroom. She'd known she was under a lot of pressure, but she hadn't realized just how heavy the burden of her job had been until that burden
was removed. The UDA murders would become someone else's problem soon. The fight was over. She'd lost—but at least it was over, right?

Maybe she'd move out of state, she decided. Sell everything she couldn't fit on her Harley and go wherever the road took her….

“What are you thinking?” Rod murmured. He'd dozed for the past half hour or so while she'd been absently running her fingers through his hair and staring at the shadows cast by the rising moon.

“Montana.”

He lifted his head from her shoulder.
“Montana?”

“I'm wondering if I'd like it up there.”

“You're planning to move?”

“After everything that's happened, I don't think I want to stick around here.” Her heart nearly broke when she thought about Rafe. He'd be homesick for her by the time he returned from camp. And where would she be? Packing, with only a few weeks left in town?

No, more than a few weeks. She'd need to sell her house. She couldn't move right away. But she'd have to make a change fairly soon. Without substantial savings, she wouldn't have enough money to last long….

Hoping to put off difficult decisions, she squeezed her eyes shut. But there was no avoiding the truth. She couldn't leave Bordertown without feeling she'd abandoned Rafe, which she'd promised herself she'd never do. She knew what it felt like to be abandoned, emotionally if not physically. And yet she couldn't be happy living among the people who'd let her down so terribly….

“It's a lot colder in Montana,” Rod pointed out. “You don't want to go there.”

“Everywhere's colder than here. Except…I don't know…maybe Africa.”

“You wouldn't mind leaving your mother?”

She wanted to mention Rafe, but wasn't positive he'd understand. And why bother? She doubted he'd be around long enough for her bond with Rafe to become an issue. “Our relationship is…complicated. Sort of like your relationship with Bruce.”

“Bruce and I don't have a relationship.”

“But you're not quite as indifferent as you'd like to believe, remember?”

“I wasn't referring to
him.
”

Smiling at the implication, she continued to thread her fingers through his thick hair. “I can tell you one thing—I wouldn't mind leaving my stepfather.”

“Did you ask him why his number was in that safe house?”

“No. First, I want to go through his office at the feed store.” She told Rod about her aborted efforts at her mother's place, and finished by saying, “All his bank statements and business documents are at the store. If there's anything that's going to reveal his connection to the safe house, I'm guessing it'll be there.”

“What about the gun you found?”

“What about it?”

“We should test it.”

“You think
Gary
could be the UDA killer?”

“After what you told me about him, I wouldn't put it past him.”

“Sexually unscrupulous doesn't automatically equate with murder.”