Playing With Fire (20 page)

Four years of high school ball, plus a full-boat athletic
and academic scholarship to the Chief’s alma mater, were steps along the way.
While he tried to talk Nate out of it, the Chief was proud when he became a
cop, prouder still when he joined the Army and ended up an Army Ranger.

Six years later, Nate had enough. He could have gone
anywhere in the country, had job offers from all fifty states. But something
stronger than blood brought him back to the North woods. He spent the last
three years building a six room log cabin next to a small lake, on land the
Chief gave him as a college graduation present. Nate hunted and fished
throughout the year and spent hours on his boat. Oh yeah: and fucked his way
through every available woman in the tri-state area. But he never brought one
of them to his cabin sanctuary. It was his and his alone.

Nate huffed a grateful sigh and accepted the glass the Chief
handed him. He closed his eyes for a moment. It had been a hell of a couple
days — make that weeks. When he opened his eyes, he saw the Chief staring at
him, a frown marring his strong brow, the only sign of concern he ever showed
Nate. In his late fifties, the Chief was as imposing as ever. His short cropped
grey hair, slate blue eyes, and military bearing could reduce a hard-nosed cop
to blubbering idiocy. He didn’t suffer fools gladly. Nate had learned that the
hard way. The only time he ever got away with anything was when the older man
let him, as part of a larger lesson.

“I’ve been expecting you, Nate.”

He held up the bottle of Jameson’s. At Nate’s nod, he filled
both their glasses and settled into the armchair across from Nate. For several
minutes they were silent watching the flames dance in the fireplace.

Nate broke the comfortable silence with a low chuckle.

“Getting more complaints about that outrageous detective you
harbor, the scourge of the department?”

A slight smile played across Chief Roberts’ stern face.

“Not any more than usual.”

“Has that prissy little prick Blake Richards started filing
his ‘reports?’”

“He’s been doing that for three days now. You’ve really put
a bug up that guy’s ass, Nate. You’d think you boys were fighting over
something bigger than a case.”

Nate glanced at him and didn’t miss the twinkle in the older
man’s eyes. Nate groaned silently wondering if his mentor ever missed anything,
from a perp’s smallest tic to his protégé’s emotional tug-of-war. The Chief
saved him from further introspection.

“Actually I’ve been expecting you for a couple of other
reasons. I’ve had reports coming from people I’m not accustomed to hearing
from.”

“Like who?”

From the way the Chief was studying him, Nate had a moment
of uneasiness; then remembering the long ago meeting from this morning, he
understood the Chief’s veiled reference. Knowing the Chief wouldn’t break a
confidence, he made it easy for him.

“Don’t tell me. You old guys have to stick together. Someone
to discuss your rheumatism with.”

Chief Roberts chuckled.

“Hell, Bud Halloran and I go way back. We were together
before you and Luke and Connor were born. We’re as close as you and Luke are.
Only we sealed our bond in Nam, the way you two did in Iraq.”

Nate sipped on his whiskey, giving the Chief time to deal
with the issue in his own way.

“Bud’s worried about you, Nate. Personally.”

Nate shrugged, not hiding his irritation at the other man’s
interference.

“Bud says he participated in a scene today between you and
Connor that made him uneasy.”

Nate sucked in a breath remembering Connor’s fury and
sighed.

“Tell Bud he doesn’t need to worry. Everything’s copasetic
between me and that meddling Lang menace, CFF.”

“Who’s CFF?”

“That s my new name for Connor. I’m gonna call him that from
now on. ConnorfuckingFreud.”

The Chief laughed, a loud infectious laugh that made Nate
smile. The older man visibly relaxed.

“Glad to hear it. That young guy is almost as impressive as
you are, Nate. I got to give it to him. Sounds like he’s got your number.
That’s good. I shouldn’t be the only one jerking a knot in your tail.”

They settled back into their comfortable silence when the
Chief spoke. Any thought Nate may have had that his mentor didn’t know what was
going on was quickly eliminated, reminding him that he’d never been able to
hide a thing from John Roberts. Be it a failing grade in Spanish or his
agonized fury over his wife’s betrayal.

“From what I hear that young woman, Erin McFadden, is
something else. Bud can’t say enough good things about her. Says if he was
thirty years younger and not madly in love with Jennie Sue, he’d snap her up.
From what’s coming out in this murder investigation, seems she’s had a hell of
a past. Would have broken most people. Bud’s pretty torn up about what’s
happening to her. Wants to be sure no one takes advantage of her.”

Nate glared at him.

“Such as me, Chief?”

The Chief shrugged. “If the foo shits….”

When Nate didn’t answer, the Chief took a thoughtful sip on
his drink.

“I saw her the other day when you brought her in. She looked
like a ghost.”

At Nate’s continuing silence, the Chief asked, “Tell me
about the case, Nate. It’s obviously consuming you. And for good reason.
Biggest case this department has ever been involved in. Has far reaching
implications as I’m sure you know.”

Nate snorted.

“Yeah, Chief, you can say that. If you don’t mind I’ll go
into details later. You know how I feel about going over things before I’ve got
everything in place.”

The Chief gave an exaggerated mock groan.

“Like some other closed-mouthed bastard I know. I taught you
all my bad traits as well as my good ones, Nate.”

“Nah, you don’t have any bad traits, Chief. Except for that
hook shot of yours. That should have been outlawed a long time ago.”

The Chief shot him an appreciative smile; but it quickly
turned to a frown, telegraphing they were now on police business.

“From what I understand, Nate, you think that this girl,
this firefighter woman, might have something to do with the murders.”

Nate grimaced.

“You know better than to believe everything you hear.”

The Chief held his gaze for a long moment and then nodded
his understanding — not attempting to mask his relief.

“Hmm, so that’s how it rolls? You’ve convinced a lot of
people, Nate. Including some close to us both.”

“Then you might say I’ve done a good job?”

“You might say that, indeed.”

After a moment of silent understanding, Roberts weighed in.

“Given that’s the case, I won’t tell you how to do your job
but a protective perimeter might not be a bad idea. No telling who’s out
there.”

Nate grunted. “Already in place, Chief. Has been for the
last ten days. Four guys, 24/7.” The Chief reared up.

“Dammit, Nate. Was I ever gonna see a requisition?”

Nate grinned.

“Sure. Someday. Maybe, say, when you have to defend your
budget overages before the Mayor and City Council.”

The Chief chortled, his eyes lighting up at the thought of
the annual skirmishes Nate knew Roberts anticipated all year long. The Chief
once told him it was “better entertainment than shooting squirrels from your
back porch.”

“Can I ask you a personal question, Chief?”

“Shoot.”

“How do you feel about me taking down a Police Chief?”

“What do you mean, ‘taking down?’”

“Screwing his ass to the wall.”

Roberts scratched his chin. “You got proof?”

“Not yet. Hope to. Maybe as early as tomorrow.”

Nate let the silence sit between them. He shouldn’t have
been surprised at the Chief’s answer.

“Would that Police Chief’s name be Bradley W. Warner?”

Nate almost laughed.

“Damn, Chief, I keep thinking you’re an old man — past your
prime. Hell, you’re probably ten steps ahead of me.”

The Chief returned his grin, a look of boyish glee
flickering over his face.

“Well, let me tell you. If it happens to be Bradley W.
Warner you are talking about, I have one request. When you nail his ass to the
wall you let me take a few swings with the hammer.”

As Nate loped down the sidewalk to his Z, the Chief stood in
the doorway and hollered after him.

“And, Stryker? Get your damned hair cut!”

Nate shook his head. In his best teenage blow-off honed by
years of practice, he muttered loud enough for the Chief to hear, “Yeah, yeah,
yeah.”

It took the eight miles between the police station and the
turn-off to Charlotte Prairie for Nate’s heart to stop hammering a hole in his
chest. Seeing Mrs. J.’s number on his caller ID, he was in his car before he’d
heard all of her message. He’d been so caught up in the fallout from his two
days in CA turning over rocks covered with years of lies and deceit, he’d
barely had time to think about Erin. Except to groan every time Dan told him
she’d refused another ‘invitation’ to come to the station. It didn’t matter how
simple the task, how straightforward — identifying Simon’s photograph for
instance, or confirming the details on her marriage license. Erin refused “on
the advice of her attorney” that scurrilous bastard, Blake Richards. Even when
Dan told them both that Nate was out of town and wouldn’t be there, Richards
had refused to let her come. Nate didn’t know which made him angrier: the fact
that the little prick was giving her advice, or that Blake could talk to Erin
when Nate couldn’t.

Nate had respected her demand that he not call her or see
her. Until Mrs. J.’s call. He rounded the corner determined to whip the little
spitfire into shape. The scene at her front door promised that he would have
his hands full trying.

Erin saw the sleek black and silver Z turn the corner and
turned to Mrs. J., sputtering with rage.

“You are a traitor! You know that, don’t you? I thought
women were supposed to stick together? Support each other?”

Mrs. J’s eye s widened in pretend innocence.

“How could I have known that detective would hears about
this? But then you know them cops, specially them like the detective. They got
eyes in the backs of their heads.”

Erin sniffed.

“Especially if some of those ‘eyes’ belong to the spies they
have planted.”

Erin scowled, seeing her nosy neighbor duck her head to hide
her smile. Why should she be surprised even someone as street smart as Mrs. J.
had fallen for Nate’s charms? But, then, they were two of a kind. Bossy,
protective, and intent on interfering in her life.

She pretended not to hear Mrs. J.’s mumbling admonition,
“Honey, don’t forget pride is the mother of all sins, don’t let it keep you
from getting things you need.”

Erin huffed and didn’t answer. She should have known better
than to give Mrs. J. a set of her house keys ‘just in case.’ Only to find out
later that the detective had suggested it. Damn him.

Erin was stunned when she ran up to her house and saw the
van with
Martinez’s Furniture Solutions
emblazoned on the side. Mrs. J.
was on the porch directing movers as though she owned the place.

Erin ran up the steps shouting, “Stop! Stop now! What’s
going on?”

Mrs. J. looked as startled as the three men lugging the
furniture.

“What is this? Ettie Mae, what’s going on?”

“Why honey, I jest thoughts it was some stuff you ordered.
You said you was going to get some new things. I jest thoughts….”

Erin threw her a furious glare. Ettie Mae knew very well
that Erin barely had the money to buy food, much less furniture. The only thing
she could think of was that Blake had bought this for her. He had been telling
her repeatedly that she couldn’t live in a place like this —especially with no
furniture. He’d begun suggesting that she move in with him. He promised that
there no strings attached. His third bedroom and bath would be all hers. Erin
was tempted. The idea of living in a new condominium overlooking Lake Pleasant
was enticing. But the idea of living with Blake was not. She couldn’t give him
any false hope. He’d been nice enough not to pressure her but it was clear he
was falling for her. And she had to admit, the flowers, the sweet notes,
leisurely breakfasts after a long run were beginning to wear down her resistance.
He was after all an attractive man. But she owed him too much. She didn’t know
how she’d repay him now. She couldn’t accept this. It was too generous a gift.

Blake’s voice was crisp.

“No, Erin. I didn’t order any furniture. I know you think I
interfere in your life, but I would never be that presumptuous. Besides, I keep
hoping you’ll change your mind and move in with me.”

Listening to Blake’s adamant denial, Erin considered other
options. She was certain that neither Connor nor the Chief would have done this
without asking her permission, but perhaps Connor’s parents? Even as she
considered the possibilities, an icy conviction slithered over her. There was
only one person she knew who was arrogant enough to interfere in her life to
this extent.

She whirled on the hapless movers, seeking out the one she’d
heard speaking in English to Ettie Mae.

“Do you know who ordered this furniture? Because I didn’t!”

The young man’s blank stare confirmed what she was up
against.

“Who can I talk to at your store? Do you have a telephone
number?”

By this time a small crowd of neighbors had gathered to see
what the fuss was about.

Erin dialed. The perplexed man on the other end of the line
confirmed her worst fears.

“No, Miss. I am very sure. I handled this matter personally.
Detective Stryker’s assistant, Naomi, picked out the pieces herself. Nate told
us both not to worry about the price, just to choose good things. I’m sorry if
you don’t like the items we sent. They are the very best I have and Naomi was
certain you would be pleased.”