Hidden Fire, Kobo (23 page)

No, I'm not.

This assignment was genuine and he knew
his job. The surroundings should
not
make a difference in the way he did
it.

He opened his briefcase and transferred
papers and files. An exploratory trip through the desk drawers gave him
notepads, markers and push pins. Somewhere, he assumed, the detectives had a
workroom or an office with whiteboards, but for now, he was content to lose
himself in the case alone.

He got out his legal tablets and made
lists. Highlighted. Prioritized. Made charts. He started pinning notes and
diagrams to his fabric-covered walls, along with a timeline. He studied the lab
reports, but they wouldn't be useful unless they had a suspect to match them to.
They went into a file folder on the corner of his desk. Then, with a sigh, he
reached for a message slip. Away from the familiarity of the Pine Hills
citizenry, he had no way to prioritize the calls. Starting at the top seemed to
be the best approach. He picked up the phone and hoped for the best.

He'd eliminated the first five when his
cell rang. Thoughts of Sarah added to the pleasure of the interruption. A
glance at the unfamiliar number on the display dashed those feelings. "Detweiler."

"Randy? It's Maggie Cooper. I just
saw a policeman take Sarah away in a police car."

* * * * *

Neville's attempts at a friendly smile
did nothing to reassure Sarah. He cleared his throat. "Understand you've
had a lot of problems with your little gift shop."

Her stomach twisted. "Until the
other night, they were in the past. Do you think this burglary has anything to
do with what happened before?"

"I wouldn't know, ma'am. I'm not a
detective."

The sneering emphasis he placed on
detective
let her know exactly who he was talking about. "Then what are we doing
here?" she asked.

"Doing my job, ma'am. We're a small
town, our duties overlap from time to time." His lips tilted upward. "I'm
helping out. I don't want to bother the detectives if it's not related to your
burglary."

More likely so you'll get the credit for
discovering an important clue if it is.

"You said you're missing some pots
from that fancy artist, right?" he continued.

Wondering if Neville could read her face
as well as Randy, she nodded warily. "Yes. There weren't any fragments of
his pottery. Someone stole them."

He reached into his shirt pocket for a
notebook. He uncapped a pen. "So you say. Why would they do that? And
break the other stuff. Why not take everything? Or break everything?"

She fixed her gaze on his eyes. They
flitted to his notebook and lingered there before meeting hers again. "Isn't
that the police's job, Officer Neville? I've already told this to Detective
Kovak and Detective Detweiler." This was getting too creepy. She should
have risked calling one of them.

"Please answer the question ma'am. Sometimes
repeating information jogs the memory. What was so special about that pottery?"

She forced herself to clear her mind. No
anger. Calm. Cooperative. "I don't know. It's high quality. One of a kind.
Hard to get while he's running an exclusive. People collect his pots. Maybe you
should check eBay."

He waggled his pen between his thumb and
forefinger but didn't make any notes. "That might be a good idea. You do a
lot of eBay shopping?"

"You actually think I took my own
merchandise and am selling it on eBay? That's ridiculous."

He leaned forward and the coffee on his
breath had gone sour. She stiffened, but refused to draw away as he spoke. "I
didn't say that, ma'am. But you could collect the insurance from the burglary
and sell the stuff again. Seems like a sweet scam."

Fury flooded her and she knew she must be
crimson. Would he think she was lying? She inhaled slowly, counted to ten and
exhaled even more slowly. "I don't like what you're implying, Officer."

"I'm not implying anything ma'am.
Just tossing ideas out there. Like, why did you go to your shop late at night?
And what did you and Detective Detweiler do after I left? Seems the two of you
would have had plenty of time to make those fancy pots disappear. Can't be bad
having a police detective for a boyfriend, if you know what I mean."

"Are you calling Randy—Detective
Detweiler—a thief? That's even more ridiculous than selling my pottery on eBay."

"Don't know, ma'am. It seems he hung
around an awful long time after I left. Plenty of time to pack up and hide
those pots."

She twisted the strap on her purse until
she thought she might break it. "How would you know? Were you
watching
us?" She couldn't stop the shudder of revulsion.

Before Officer Neville could respond, the
door flew open. Sarah turned to see Randy commandeering the room.

"Don't say another word, Sarah."

"But I'm—"

"Not a word. I mean it." His
lips were a flat, white line.

She swallowed her indignation at the way
he spoke to her. A few minutes ago, she'd wanted him to be here. Now that he was,
why did she wish he wasn't? She'd been handling things in an adult and calm
manner. She didn't need a white knight.

Randy leaned on the table, dwarfing
Officer Neville. Randy's hands were clenched into fists and Sarah was afraid he
was going to punch the officer.

She reached for him, but withdrew her
hands before she made contact. "Randy, it's—"

He glared at her, his eyes cold and dark
in his anger-flushed face. "Later." He addressed Officer Neville. "Did
you Mirandize her?"

"Hey, chill, Detective." Officer
Neville's words dripped with scorn. "She's not under arrest. I just wanted
to ask her some questions."

"Did you tell her she was free to
go, or that she didn't have to answer your questions?" He looked at her. "Did
he?"

She shook her head. "He …" Her
voice quavered. Hating the show of fear, she swallowed. Regrouped. "He
told me I had to come down here with him."

"That's not how it works, Neville
and you know it. What the hell are you trying to pull?"

"You shouldn't even be here,
Detective
.
There's something fishy going on and you've got no business working a case when
your girlfriend is involved."

"Fishy? What's he talking about?"
Sarah asked. Incredulity replaced any fear and her voice was steady.

Randy chest expanded, then contracted, as
if he'd sucked in half the air in the room before exhaling. "I have no
idea. And for your information,
Officer
Neville, I'm not on this case.
It's Kovak's. However, that has absolutely no bearing on the fact that you're
crossing lines you have no business crossing. You think something's fishy, you
go to Kovak."

"Yeah, tell me the two of you aren't
like this." Officer Neville sneered and crossed his first two fingers into
an X.

"Then go to your commanding officer.
Or hell, take it to Laughlin. But you
never
—I repeat—
never
violate
a person's rights. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good. Now get out of here before I
do something I might not regret."

Sarah clutched the strap of her purse,
trying not to stare as Officer Neville drew himself to his full height and
marched out of the room.

Randy paced the small room, clawing his
fingers through his hair. After five circuits, he crouched beside her chair,
his eyes level with hers. The anger was gone from his gaze, replaced by warm
pools with hazel flecks like autumn sunlight on a mountain pond. Worry suffused
his face. "Are you all right?" The huskiness in his voice dissolved
any remaining shreds of irritation into nothingness.

"I'm fine. You didn't have to come
thundering in here like a bellowing Neanderthal, you know."

"Neanderthal?" His lips
twitched. "Neanderthals were
short
. And I most certainly don't
bellow."

She dovetailed her fingers with his. "Can
we get out of here and talk about this? Or do you have to get to work?"

"Right now, I think you
are
my work." He lifted her sweater from the back of the chair and held it
open for her. She draped it over her shoulders.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Maggie called. Said some cop had
come for you. She described Neville to a T and I—"

"Got on your charger and rode to
rescue the damsel in distress."

"I thought I was a Neanderthal."

"So sue me. I mix metaphors when I'm
stressed."

He winged his eyebrows. "Oh, so you
admit to being stressed."

"Look at this place." She
turned and swooped an arc with her arm. "It's enough to stress anyone,
innocent or guilty."

"Which is what it's designed for, so
good to know we got it right." He spun her around so she faced him and
rested his hands on her shoulders. "May I hug you, my independent Sarah
Tucker?"

"I think I could use that, yes."
She melted into him, let his heartbeat resonate through her. Slowly, like
summer waves on the beach, each one coming a little farther ashore, her
thoughts grew clearer. He'd come because he was worried about her. Not because
he didn't think she could handle herself. Not because he wanted to be in
charge. Because he wanted to help. Helping wasn't bad.

"Is there a hidden camera in here?"
she whispered. "Or a microphone?"

"No. We use the
hand-held-by-a-real-human varieties when we need to tape someone."

"Then will you kiss me? At least if
I'm going to have dreams about this room, there will be something good in them."
She tilted her head upward.

His hands swept from her shoulders to her
buttocks, cupped them and he lifted her to his waist. She wrapped her legs
around him, her sweater falling to the floor. Up close, Randy's scent masked
all others. His shampoo, his spicy aftershave. A faint trace of sweat. For a
fleeting instant, she wondered if he smelled the fear-induced sweat on her.
Then his lips pressed hers, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. His arms
cradled her against him. She reached behind his head, threading her fingers
through his tousled hair, tipping her head so their mouths joined.

Gently, he nibbled her lower lip. She
parted her lips, ran her tongue along his teeth. He tasted like spearmint. With
the quiet buzz of the lights and the soft sounds of gentle kisses in her ears,
she deepened the kiss. Plunging, seeking, demanding. Erasing all memories of
Officer Neville. Obliterating doubts. When they were together, she felt whole.
For now, that was enough.

He returned her kisses, his tongue
delving for her soul. Quiet moans dominated her hearing. Hers, his, or both? It
didn't matter. She gripped his head tighter, drew him closer. His hands, big
and strong shifted her so she felt his arousal. She tightened her legs around
him, wriggled so her breasts rubbed his chest, flooding her core with desire.

He staggered backward, knocking over the
chair with a resounding thud. His grip on her loosened and she broke the kiss.
It took a moment to catch her breath. She ran her fingers along the back of his
ear, enjoying the velvety smooth feeling. "I think that should do it,"
she said, still breathing hard.

"Do what?"

"Change my associations with this
room."

"Right. That's what we were doing.
Yeah." He grinned. "Kind of a reconditioning."

"Pavlov would be proud."

"Woof," he said. "Can we
have dinner now?"

"Sounds good to me." She bent
to pick up her sweater and purse.

"I'll carry that," he said,
reaching for her sweater.

"It's not a problem."

"Not for you, maybe. But I've got
one and there's no way I'm walking out of here carrying your purse."

Randy swung his truck into the parking
lot behind Saint Michael's. Taking Sarah's hand as they walked around the
building to the main entrance, she gave him a gentle squeeze. She hadn't had to
do much arm-twisting to get him here, especially when she'd told him Kovak
would be here, too. Randy had faced his demons and nursing homes no longer
covered him in a blanket of memories of his grandmother or guilt that she might
be alive if he'd made it home sooner after her stroke. But he knew Sarah
worried. And that filled him with a warm glow. He squeezed back.

"I wish you'd let me go home and
change," she said. "I feel so … dirty … after being in that room with
that … creep. And everyone's dressed up."

"Only the residents," he said. "You're
fine."

"Sarah!" He looked across the
room at the sound of Maggie's worry-filled voice. He spied her crimson curls
bobbing among the people gathered in the reception area. She bustled over and
gripped Sarah's hands. "I didn't know you were coming."

"I promised to help out and I'm
here," Sarah said. "I suppose I should find out what they want me to
do."