.38 Caliber Cover-Up Page 7

  “So all you’re interested in is delivering a package of you-don’t-know-what to someone you’ve never met and returning to your life in San Antonio?”

  “I’ll be out of your hair and then you can make any notes you want.”

  He had to be joking. And what was wrong with taking notes? She was thorough, and documented what happened. So what? He said it like note-taking was a plague.

  “What-A-Burger or Mickey D’s?”

  He was completely and totally serious. So completely nonchalant about the entire encounter it seemed a part of his natural routine. Was working undercover so dramatically different from the day-to-day workings of the police department? Did they not uphold the same laws?

  “But what if he has…”

  “But what if he has what?” He stopped the truck on the side of the road, pulling halfway into the ditch and placing it in Park. “It’s time to stop toying with me, Darby. I need to know what’s in the package and where it’s located. What are you not saying?”

  He was no longer impersonating a military pilot, and the know-it-all drug dealer had been gone since he’d rinsed his hair. Her brother was right, the chameleon called Erren Rhodes changed yet again. His eyes became harder, like slow whiskey that carried a punch once it hit your gut.

  “Pike was shot in the parking lot of the police academy. I heard the shots and ran outside to find him. He struggled and told me someone would come asking for a package. His last words were, ‘Trust him.’ I couldn’t ask any questions. I couldn’t find any type of ‘package’ during the last week. I’d given up hope, until you came to my house last night.”

  His lack of reaction told her it wasn’t the story he expected. He angled his head forward and glared at her through the hair falling into his face. Other than the tilt, he didn’t move. She’d laid everything out for him. Well, everything except Michael being accused of Pike’s murder.

  “Unfreakin’ believable.” He slammed the truck into gear. “I need to think. Since I can’t do that on an empty stomach and no coffee, I’m taking you with me. Don’t bother talking or trying to plead your case. I’ve never really had a partner before, O’Malley, but I’m fairly certain they don’t lie to each other.”

  “YOU SAID WE WERE GOING to Lake Texoma? What part of the lake?” Darby asked.

  “This just gets better and better,” Erren mumbled and shook his head, almost ignoring her.

  Throughout their hour-long drive, he’d grunted or told her to be quiet. She ignored his sarcasm and watched him. Watching wasn’t hard to do. Even with his face turning different colors from the bruising, his features could be admired. Of course, her brother’s parting warning about not sleeping with her partner kept coming to her mind.

  Often.

  Rhodes was her partner. The attraction was just chemistry. A simple reaction to the adrenaline and the fact he was good-looking. Shoot…chemistry had been her only D in college. She sucked at chemistry.

  “I haven’t been up here in a long time. Not since Connor shipped overseas and Michael was excommunicated from the Sergeant Major’s family gatherings.” Her father had purchased lake property closer to home and was satisfied to see her and Sean for Cowboys games and balloon festivals.

  She watched several more miles of farmland, sprinkled with the occasional oil well. “My brothers and I used to count these pumps when we drove here to camp. We always took the same route and always came up with a different number. We could never understand how that was possible.”

  Erren shook his head some more.

  Each time he’d punched the radio on, she’d turned it off.

  When she’d asked where Erren was headed, he’d mumbled something about a cabin. One of the few words mumbled during their trek north. She had hoped they’d talk more after they’d had breakfast, but it didn’t happen.

  Just like a man to sulk.

  He didn’t look in her direction. She kept watching the landscape, wondering which section of the lake he was headed toward. She’d grown up with three brothers and knew how to keep quiet when necessary. She also knew that constant, mindless chatter annoyed the heck out of them.

  “Sergeant Major took up ballooning when I was about thirteen. Connor never really got into it, but Sean and Michael loved flying.”

  Erren’s teeth gnashed. His free hand rubbed his jaw or tapped his thigh. He poked the radio on again. She imitated his movement and poked it off. He growled.

  A few minutes later, they were somewhere on the north side of Pottsboro, pulling into an overgrown road where branches screeched against her brother’s paint job. They were close to the lake, but not on waterfront property, with a drive wide enough for only one car—or a bicycle and one oversized pickup.

  “The cabin’s up this road a bit. Stay in the truck,” he commanded in a broody, lone-wolf deep voice many women probably obeyed.

  “No.” She was poised and set to jump out as soon as he stopped the truck. She liked the anticipation building inside her. Something she didn’t understand but was ready to use.

  Erren rolled to a slow stop and before she could open the door, he had the handcuffs around her left wrist. When had he obtained those from her service belt?

  “What are you doing?” she asked, but knew the answer. He was forcing her to stay put. He didn’t trust her. The anticipation deflated like one of her father’s balloons.

  “I’m ensuring that you follow orders this time.” He clicked the other cuff to the steering wheel. He hit the windows button, leaving them halfway down. “Your orders are to stay put.”

  “You’re leaving me here?” He couldn’t be serious. Could he? “Don’t go in there alone.”

  “It shouldn’t take you long to pick the lock.” The look on his face specifically told her he knew she couldn’t. “You do know how to pick a lock, don’t you?”

  The man was too arrogant for anyone’s good. He’d get himself shot and she’d be a sitting duck. As he left the truck, the sun flashed off the dagger at his neck. She caught his reflection in the side mirror…the pirate grin was back.

  Sitting in the car like a naughty child wasn’t teaching her anything about field work. Erren turned ninja walking into the woods. He disappeared quickly and she couldn’t hear any sounds of him tromping around.

  Listen to yourself, O’Malley. You’re romanticizing the situation. Pirate, ninja, lone wolf, jet pilot… He’s just a guy. Just a regular guy. So stop thinking about him any other way.

  That was her problem. The man wouldn’t leave her head although her normal, clear-thinking brain certainly had.

  She didn’t need to pick the lock…she had the key. She twisted and tugged until she could get her free arm behind the seat to where Erren had dropped her police belt. A second later she was free of the cuff and the truck.

  The man couldn’t be that far ahead. A couple of minutes maybe, but he knew which direction to head to get to the cabin he mentioned. Tracking wasn’t her specialty. It was more a Connor type of thing. She could hear his hushed voice telling her to move slowly, to look for broken branches, indentations in the sand, anything unusual. No one could move through this amount of brush and not leave a trail.

  There it was…a rather large tennis-shoe indentation.

  A few feet down the trail—if anyone could actually call this rabbit path a trail—she found a second footprint. The man was light on his feet, but every so often, he’d left his mark. She carefully followed, breaking through the overgrowth to a well-groomed lawn inside a three-foot chain-link fence. Two slight shoe indentations were on the inside where Erren had hopped over.

  She was his partner, his backup. She retreated into the woods and walked the perimeter of the property. If there were someone here the agent didn’t know about, this time she’d save his butt.

  WALKING INTO THE CABIN after seven years, the memories rolled through his mind and couldn’t be stopped. Erren could almost smell hot grease. The last time he’d been here, burnt bacon had permeated the cabin for days. Walter P
ike had been a lousy cook, always talking instead of paying attention to the food.

  Wishful thinking. Walter was gone.

  The cabin was free of any disruption or bad cops. Erren circled back to the truck and of course, no Darby. He caught up and watched her round the fence, staying in the brush—and no telling how much poison ivy—while checking out the perimeter. At least she didn’t give up.

  It would be nice to retreat to Walter’s chair and take a nap. Coffee or no coffee—Darby or no Darby—the lack of sleep in the last week was starting to wear on him. But his partner was searching for trouble.

  He could give Darby a scare in the big, bad woods, but she might actually pull the trigger on that gun in her hand. She had rawness to her actions he didn’t want to confront.

  And one of the nicest behinds he’d watched for a while—even in a Dallas P.D. uniform. The rest of her curves were hidden under her windbreaker. Not completely hidden. Every now and then he got a peek at her creamy skin. No tan for that Irish girl. She’d burn in a couple of minutes, but he sort of liked the idea of limiting her exposure to the sun. To danger. To other men.

  Had he gone that soft after one day with the Dallas cop?

  No way. He was not seriously attracted to the woman who had lied and sent him on a snipe hunt, wasting a full day.

  Oh, hell, he was. Weird thing, he wasn’t worried about blowing his cover for once. This time, he could be himself. Did he even remember who that self was? Maybe it was time to find out.

  Scaring her wouldn’t accomplish anything. There was time for training and evaluation later. And other things.

  Just the thought of returning to their kiss put more life into his step on the return to the cabin. Officer O’Malley had a lot of explaining to do. They were in major trouble and it was time for the whole truth. Time to cool off and pry whatever secret Darby had from her delicious lips.

  He sank into the lounge chair his mentor had picked up at a garage sale a couple of miles away from his house. Walter had loved this chair. Marilyn had hated it. So the lounger found a home at the cabin.

  No one knew about this property, except those invited for a private “chat.” Even then they weren’t told it was Erren’s cabin. He hadn’t been here since Walter had proposed his plan and asked to utilize the place as a safe house.

  Seven years later and what did he have to show for it? A skill set any good crook would envy, a mystery unlikely to be solved and a murdered friend.

  I’m going to miss you, Walter. It was going to be hell continuing alone. Nothing and no one to anchor him. A lot of questions with no quick answers.

  “So, I’m assuming your cute little butt doesn’t need rescuing?”

  Darby stood in the doorway, gun drawn, barrel pointed in the air. She’d taken him by surprise, but he was careful not to let her see it.

  “Nice of you to join me. Leave the cuffs in the truck?”

  She gave the room a quick once-over and pushed the gun down the back of her department blues. Was that disappointment, dissatisfaction or a little of both he detected in the look she shot him?

  “I suppose you’re ready to talk,” he said.

  “Let’s start by you telling me why we’re here and who owns this place.” She didn’t enter the room.

  Not yet. She was holding something back. He could see it in the way she stood there—arms crossed, closed.

  “You think it’s time for some honesty, Darby?” He rose from the chair, already missing its worn-out leather and the moment of genuine peace. “Are you ready to venture into that territory?”

  As if he knew where the hell honesty’s boundaries were. His last honest dealings were probably with his grandmother. He hadn’t told her about Pike’s secret operation, only that she’d always be able to reach him. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. The phone call to rush to her side had never come.

  “I’ve told you everything I know,” she said. She held her breath.

  A lie. He moved his hand through his hair, and her relief visibly showed in the rise and fall of her chest. She wasn’t getting any better at lying and she didn’t realize it.

  “Pike used this cabin when he went fishing.” And for other things, like recruiting spies.

  “So you think the package is here?”

  “It’s a possibility, but neither of us knows what we’re looking for. Isn’t that right?” He took a step toward Darby and she countered with one backward step, straight into the open doorway. “Start explaining, partner.”

  “What do you mean? You’re the one who left me handcuffed to the steering wheel.”

  “And you’re the one who’s never set foot in this cabin before.”

  “So Pike never brought me here. What does that have to do with anything?”

  Incredible. Dumb. Wishful thinking.

  “For starters, it means I have the wrong O’Malley.”

  Chapter Six

  Erren turned his back to her and crossed to Pike’s wall of undercover agents. Not a red-haired kid in the bunch. And one thing about the O’Malleys…they all had red hair.

  “You aren’t on the wall.”

  “What are you talking about?” She closed the door and followed to look at the pictures.

  “Ten days ago, I received a message from Pike telling me I was needed in Dallas to meet O’Malley. I arrived the day after he was murdered. I start poking my nose around and the DEA gets wind of evidence that will clench the death penalty for the accused murderer.”

  “That can’t be true. Michael’s innocent.”

  “I thought so. My handler wouldn’t tell me the accused guy’s name. No details. I thought something was up when your family seemed to overreact to your brother’s name and situation. A situation they didn’t seem inclined to share in front of me.” He pulled the picture from his back pocket. “This is a map to your house.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Pike draw the map on the back sending me to you?”

  “I’m not certain.”

  She held her breath for a split second too long, trying not to give herself away, but she did. Shifting her feet, not meeting his eyes. Darby O’Malley was not telling the truth.

  “You’re still lying. I thought it was time for honesty.”

  “Then tell me what evidence you retrieved to incriminate Michael.”

  “Nothing. I told you, last night was a setup. Someone wanted me to stop looking for Pike’s information. What I found was this picture in Butthead’s pocket.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would he have a photograph of Pike?”

  The same question had bothered him to where he’d stopped thinking straight. Jumping in before having a plan. Involving a person who shouldn’t be involved. He was definitely responsible for her, pulling someone totally unqualified into an unauthorized situation.

  He decided to tell her what he knew. “First of all, I don’t think Beavis or Butthead were smart enough to ambush Pike. No one at any agency would tell me anything about his accused murderer or the crime scene. Before last night, I thought it was to prevent me from doing something they think I’ll regret.”

  There wouldn’t be any regret for his actions. Not from him.

  “And now?” She did that cute eyebrow lift again and pulled her hair to the back of her neck. She put her hands back on her hips, and as if it had a mind of its own, her hair fell back to frame her face.

  “The photograph was to entice me to the meeting or maybe they planned for it to be found on me after I killed your brother or killed you.” A kissable face. Concentrate. “They would have framed me for the murder. Either way, it was another step to muddy the waters and divert attention from the real killers.”

  “How do you know that Michael’s innocent? You certainly sound confident.”

  “He has to be one of Pike’s Guys.” He pointed to the wall. “It’s obvious you aren’t and Pike definitely said O’Malley.”

  “Michael is an academy washout. He’s been hanging around with losers for the past cou
ple of years. He’s far from one of the good guys.”

  “Then why do you think he’s innocent?” He was curious as to her reasons. He was willing to accept that Michael might not be the murderer. At least until he received undeniable truth that he was guilty. If O’Malley had betrayed their organization…Erren would deal with him.

  “It’s time you told me the entire truth.”

  “Pike was shot with a .38 caliber. Michael wouldn’t be caught dead with a revolver. The fancier the better.” Confident in her deduction, she tilted her chin, almost daring him to contradict her. “Michael’s blood type was found at the scene. They’re waiting on a DNA match. So, again, why are you certain my brother’s not Pike’s killer?”

  “Do you see the pictures on the wall?”

  “They’re difficult to miss.” She tapped a few with her finger nail. “Didn’t Pike like his picture taken anywhere else around the lake?”

  “These are Pike’s Guys.”

  “Wait.” She took her time looking at each picture, then took his photo from him and turned on a lamp. “This one is you, a much younger you. Your nose is straight and your hair is short. No wonder I didn’t recognize it was you in the photo.”

  He wasn’t that different.

  “I was recruited by Pike seven years ago, straight out of the academy.”

  “Recruited for what? Who?”

  “It’s my understanding that Walter used people in different types of businesses and law enforcement.” They could deal with who he collected the info for later. “When he needed information, we got it for him.”

  “Are you saying that Michael worked for Pike? That he’s undercover?” She searched the wall again. “See, you’re wrong. Michael isn’t in any of these pictures.”

  “He has to be one of Pike’s men. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Pike wouldn’t have sent me to O’Malley if we weren’t working together.” Or her brother turned on Pike. The possibility Michael was guilty couldn’t be marked off his list just because he liked the guy’s sister.

  “It’s not possible. Michael would have told me.”