Don't Call Me Hero (20 page)

“I know you’re one of the good guys, but I don’t even know if there’s anything to this case. It’s still early. The moment we get a lead or make some connections, I promise to include you.”

My words seemed to appease Julia for the time being. “That will be acceptable, Miss Miller.”

My lips curved at the return of the formal name.

My phone rang. It was David. I answered, hoping for good news.

“Tell me you found her,” I barked into the phone.

“I found her.”

“Thank God.”

Julia stirred in the passenger seat. “Is that David? Did he find her? Where was she? Is she okay?”

Rather than relay all of her questions, I handed my phone to Julia.

“David? Hi, yes. It’s Julia. Mmhm,” she hummed as she listened. “You did? She was? Good lord.”

I could hear David’s voice on the other end of the phone call, but I couldn’t make out specific words.

“Alright. I’ll be right there,” Julia continued on the phone. “Thank you, David. I really can’t express how grateful I am.”

She hung up and handed the phone back to me. “David found her walking along the road near the elementary school. She used to be a teacher’s aide when I was younger. She must have gone there because it was familiar.”

“And she’s okay? She didn’t hurt herself?”

“He said she looked a little dirty and confused, but otherwise she seems okay. He’s bringing her to the clinic right now. I said I’d meet them there.”

I turned the police car down another road in the direction of the hospital. It wasn’t much more than a walk-in clinic, but it was staffed twenty-four hours a day.

“I should send David something as a thank you,” Julia said, thinking out loud as we drove to the hospital. “What might he like?”

“Besides a date with the city attorney?” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from crawling into my tone. I sat stupidly in the drivers’ seat actually feeling disappointed that I hadn’t been the one to find Julia’s mother. I wasn’t the hero.

“That’s not funny.”

“I know it’s not,” I bit off. “How do you think I like working with a guy that’s my competition?”

“Competition?” Her face pinched in confusion. “You know I’m not … there’s no competition, Cassidy.”

“Yeah?” My breath hitched. It was the closest thing we’d come, outside of an elevator, to acknowledging our “arrangement.”

She tucked a lock of dark hair behind one ear, a nervous habit perhaps, but I’d never seen this woman anxious about anything.  “David’s not the only police officer I should be thanking.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I was just doing my job.”

“I’ve been…” She sucked in a deep breath, “pretty horrible to you since you got into town. And there’s no excuse for that. My actions have been selfish and self-serving. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

“You don’t see me complaining, do you?” I rubbed the back of my neck. Her disassembling had me uncomfortable. I was used to Julia Desjardin being bossy and in charge. This vulnerable, yoga pants-wearing version of herself was like a stranger.

The in-car radio shrieked and we both winced at its volume.

“E-Three, this is Central. Come in, E-Three.”

I grabbed the handset. “This is E-Three, Central. Go ahead.”

“E-Three, I’ve got 10-14 at 87 Maple Ave.”

“Central, be advised, E-Three is en route.” I returned the radio to its holster. “I wish I could come inside with you,” I sighed, “but I have to take this call.”

“What’s a 10-14?” she asked.

“Prowler.”

Her eyes widened.

“It’s probably an animal eating out of a garbage can,” I dismissed.

Her mouth formed a half-smile. “Well once again, Detective, thank you for your assistance tonight.” She unfastened her seatbelt and opened the passenger door. “I hope the rest of your shift is uneventful.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I heard the sharp, punctuated click-clack of high heels on cheap linoleum. I dragged my eyes away from a pile of paperwork to see Julia in the doorway, arms crossed and smirking.

“I had a feeling I’d find you down here.” Her eyes scanned the modest police station. “I haven’t been down here in years,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “And now I remember why.”

The two of us were alone. Lori had gone home earlier in the day, and the only noise in the station was the ticking of an old wall clock and the occasional squawk of the police radio.

I wiped my palms against the tops of my jeans. “What brings you down to the dungeon?”

“You. I was going to my car, and I saw lights on down here.”

“And you assumed it would be me?”

“Only because you seem to be the most dedicated police officer in the history of the profession,” she countered.

“What makes you say that?”

“This isn’t your shift is it?”

“No. David’s patrolling.”

“Then why are you here?”

I felt a little like I was standing trial with all the rapid questions. “There’s no air conditioning in my apartment,” I shrugged. “And I have paperwork to catch up on.”

“Paperwork?”

She stalked dangerously closer, each stiletto step sounding like a gunshot. When she bent to inspect the evidence on the desk, it was all I could do to keep from admiring the view down her dress shirt, unbuttoned to the third button.

She flipped through the documents on the desk while I held my breath and tried to maintain eye contact when all I wanted to do was lose myself in her cleavage. She had an amazing ability to render me a prepubescent teen.

“This doesn’t look like your typical small-town crime paperwork.” She righted herself along with my stack of papers.

I scrambled to my feet and uselessly reached for the paperwork. “Please don’t mix those up. I need them in the right order.” The pages were unnumbered, and I’d have no idea which documents went together if she jumbled them up.

Her unlined forehead furrowed, and she swept a defiant raven lock out of her face. “What is all this?”

I eased the papers from her hands. “Grant applications.”

She rested her hand on a canted hip. “And what would you want with those? Are you applying for something?”

“No. It’s for that case David and I are working on.”

Julia arched an eyebrow, obviously waiting for more.

I let out a loud sigh and fell back into my chair. “Fine. But you might as well have a seat. This is a long story.”

I gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk. The black leather upholstery was split in places, revealing an aged, yellow stuffing that might have been asbestos. Julia’s facial expression indicated she had no intention of sitting in that chair.

“When does your shift start?” she asked.

“Ten. Just like every other night.”

“Come out to the house; I’ll be waiting for your story.” She didn’t wait for my response. She turned sharply on her red shiny heels and clacked her way out of the office.

+ + +

Julia opened the door after the first knock as if she’d been waiting in the entryway for my arrival. She knew I’d show up, there wasn’t a question about that. She pressed a glass into my hands, grabbed the front of my v-neck shirt, and pulled me through the doorway. Her lips were on mine, and I was pushed hard against the back of the door. She buried her teeth in my bottom lip and listened to the whimper that followed. She tasted like bourbon and lipstick. Before I could react, her mouth was gone and so was she.

The kiss left me vibrating. I drank down whatever was in the glass without thinking. I expected the fiery burn of alcohol, but it was plain juice. With a bewildered shake of my head, I followed her into the den.

The curtains were pulled open and moonlight shone in through the grand windows. It was too warm out for a fire, so the fireplace remained cold and dark. Only a few lamps illuminated the formal room. Julia took a seat on a red leather couch with a tumbler glass in her hand. She crossed one leg over the other and patted the space beside her, sparing me the mental anguish of deciding where to sit. Her work clothes had been abandoned for cotton sleep pants and a camisole, but her signature red lipstick remained.

“How’s your mother?” I asked, taking a seat in the empty space beside her.

“Good. Safe. I insisted my father get an alarm on the doors and windows so he’ll know if she wanders off again like that.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” I couldn’t imagine what that would be like—to watch a parent deteriorate.

“How was your 10-14?” she asked.

“It was a bear. Eunice Brown didn’t have her glasses on, and she thought it was a prowler,” I laughed.

Her fingers stretched out, and she rubbed the pad of her thumb along the side of my mouth. “You’ve got some of my lipstick on you.”

God, I wanted to kiss her. I wished I was bold enough to lean across the couch and pull her in for a kiss that she’d feel down to her painted toenails.

“So tell me about this case.”

I shook my empty glass. “I might need a refill.”

Her lips pursed and then broadened into a smile. “More apple juice, Detective? I know you’re on the clock; I wouldn’t want you to over-do it.”

“You’re right.” I gave her a cheeky grin, sure to bring out my dimples. “Anymore juice and it wouldn’t be responsible for me to drive.”

“And then I’d have to insist that you stay the night.” Short nails scratched down the length of my arm. “It would be irresponsible of me to let you get behind the wheel.”

The intensity of emotions in that dimly lit room had my head swimming. I didn’t need alcohol; Julia’s presence was intoxicating enough.

“But back to your case,” she smiled serenely.

The words roused me from the latest round of seduction chicken.

“You know how I’ve been looking into grant money and city improvement projects?”

She pulled her legs up on the couch, pulling them tight against her chest. “Like the roof on the new library,” she nodded, remembering.
And your hypothetical city park.”

“David thinks someone’s been fudging on paperwork and pocketing grant money that should going to city projects.”

She frowned. “But I already told you that most grants are reimbursements. The project gets built or the equipment gets bought, and then the Feds reimburse the city.”

I nodded. We’d already gone over this the other day in her office. “But David’s convinced someone’s been able to cheat the system—a loophole or something.”

“And what do you think?” Julia asked. She brought her glass to her lips and took a sip.

“I’m just helping out a co-worker,” I said. “I don’t have an opinion one way or the other.”

“And yet you seem to be putting an awful lot of time into this— extra hours on the clock—which I’m sure you’re not getting paid overtime for.”

I fiddled with my empty glass, rolling it back and forth in my clasped hands. I wanted something stronger, but it was going to be a long night on duty. “It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do with my days,” I defended myself.

“You could be spending time with friends. Find yourself a hobby perhaps? Or a significant other.”

I looked up at her sharply. I wasn’t going to have this conversation with her. Not when she refused to go on a simple date with me, yet found it perfectly acceptable to kiss me senseless whenever she felt like it. I knew I was just as culpable, however, in this game she played; I could easily put a stop to this charade. It would be hard to avoid her altogether in a tiny town like Embarrass, but I could start by not showing up at her front door whenever she commanded it.

My look seemed to get my point across, so she continued our original conversation. “What proof does David have? I know he can be a little reckless at times, but this is unusual even for him.”

“He found a receipt for forty police radios billed to the city.”

Julia immediately made the connection. “And there’s only three of you.”

I nodded. “And he thinks it’s just the tip of the iceberg. He’s been hunting down paperwork on all kinds of capital projects through the City Clerk’s office.”

Julia’s features creased in thought. “Believe what you will, but that money had to be spent on forty radios. The purchase order could be faked, I suppose, but it’s all reimbursement. Money gets spent and a reimbursement check is issued by whatever agency awarded the grant. That’s how these things work.”