To Trust a Cop Read online

  Merlene didn’t smile at the familiar story. “After a while, I learned to hide my piggy bank. If I hadn’t, Donny and I wouldn’t have had lunch money.”

  “The booze ruined your mom, Merl,” he said softly. “She was a good girl.”

  Merlene shrugged. Good girl? Maybe once, in distant fading memories, those two words might have fit her mother. Had that really been her mom who had held her in church, smoothed her hair and whispered softly not to be afraid of the loud singing? That memory didn’t jibe with ones of a bleary-eyed, frightened thief who spent every dime on cheap whiskey. If her father hadn’t started slipping her cash from his paycheck, no one would have eaten by the end of the week.

  “Have you heard from Tallahassee and the licensing board?” she asked, needing a change of subjects.

  “Merl, please don’t worry about that nonsense. I can handle matters just fine.”

  “I know, I know. Are you feeling okay, D.J.?”

  “Fit as a fiddle,” he said in his most chipper tone.

  “You’re using the inhalers the doctor gave you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” But she didn’t like the grayish tint of his skin. Or how frequently he coughed. She suspected his chronic bronchitis caused by years of smoking had flared up again, but he hated it when she inquired about his health.

  When D.J. turned on Granada Avenue, Merlene saw police units still in the Johnsons’ driveway. Yellow tape still hung at the perimeter of the yard marking the crime scene. She looked around for Cody’s unmarked car but didn’t spot it.

  D.J. pulled in next to Merlene’s Toyota.

  “Keep me informed, Merl.”

  “Will do, D.J. Thanks for the ride.”

  Seated behind the wheel, Merlene shoved aside her jacket and glared at her surveillance notes and binoculars. Guilt ate at her stomach like acid. When had she become such a big, fat liar?

  She picked up the notebook and flipped to the last page where she’d jotted the time of her last recording—11:54 p.m., just as the sedan arrived. She’d recorded the license number, which would be corroborating evidence to her video. She stared at the front of the Johnson house, remembering the two men walking to the front door, reliving the terrible sound of gunshots.

  As soon as she got home she’d call Cody and tell him about the video. She’d have to act all sorry and embarrassed, which shouldn’t be too hard to manage since she was embarrassed by what she’d done. She felt rotten about her little white lie, especially since he’d been such a gentleman last night. And maybe the fib wasn’t exactly so little. Would he be able to tell she was hiding something? Probably. Those piercing blue eyes didn’t miss a thing.

  But if she had turned the recording over to the police last night without making a copy, she’d never have seen it again. She wouldn’t be able to play it for her client, and really the evidence was her client’s property, wasn’t it? Pat had paid her to conduct the surveillance.

  No, she could never explain to Cody that she didn’t trust the police, that she feared they might lose her evidence and proof of what had happened last night. Would he think she was being greedy and maybe wanted a payoff for the video? She didn’t want anything. The authorities should have the evidence. She planned to hand it over freely, if a little late.

  She sighed, wishing her life, this case, hadn’t become so complicated. Who knew what was right or wrong anymore? All she knew was she felt like dirt for keeping the truth from Cody. She wanted to be honest with him. She now believed he was different than other cops. Or anyway, he sure didn’t behave like the other cops she’d run into. Even if he got D.J. into trouble, she knew he was basically an honest man who always did what he thought was right.

  She didn’t have to always agree with those actions.

  * * *

  “YOU’RE TELLING ME that you just—what—forgot?” Cody stared at Merlene. She perched on the edge of her couch, plucking at the hem of her shorts. “A video of a murder somehow slipped your mind?”

  “Don’t take that tone of voice with me, Detective. I’d never seen a man with huge holes blown in his chest before.”

  Expressive gray eyes dominated her fragile face, and he wondered if she’d gotten any sleep last night. He sure as hell hadn’t. He’d been disappointed by the message that she didn’t need a ride to retrieve her car, then mystified when she’d called back and said she had something important to show him.

  He hadn’t needed an excuse to hurry over to see her.

  Damn. A digital recording. He should have asked her about one last night. Suspicion edged into his thoughts. How could she have forgotten? He scrutinized her face, searching for deception. Could she be hiding something? She was excited. That much was certain. The pink color in her usually pale cheeks told him that.

  He sat on the couch beside her. “Have you reviewed it?”

  She nodded and picked up a remote control device. “I downloaded the file to a DVD. It’s set up for you to view.”

  “Any good?”

  She shrugged. “See for yourself.” She aimed the remote at her TV, turning it on with a quick click. “I always expose a few minutes of tape every hour on the hour to prove I’m doing my job. This begins with the sequence I shot around midnight. I was about to go home.”

  Cody placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward when a surprisingly clear image of the Johnsons’ house appeared on the small television, the house numbers and front door clearly visible. Merlene had good equipment. The date and time flashed in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen.

  Her voice repeated the date and time and that nothing had occurred in the past hour.

  After a quick blip, a dark-colored late-model Buick Regal pulled into the Johnsons’ driveway. Merlene zoomed in on the license plate, speaking on the tape about rude late-night visitors. With backs to the camera, two men exited the vehicle and moved to the front of the house. No way to ID either one of them.

  The next image that flashed on the screen jerked crazily, and labored breathing had been recorded by the camcorder. The same two men reappeared in the frame, rushing back to the Buick.

  Cody gripped the arm of the couch and swore softly under his breath, recognizing the tall, heavyset driver: Neville Feldman, Sean Feldman’s brother. Just as he climbed into the vehicle, Neville glanced toward the street and directly into the camera. Merlene had captured him perfectly.

  Brother Neville’s role in the con was to solicit people involved in car accidents and steer them to Dr. Johnson. Johnson diagnosed major injuries, promptly billing insurance for unnecessary treatment. And then came the lawsuits filed by brother Sean Feldman for pain and suffering. Insurance companies usually settled out of court because, in the long run, that was cheaper than paying legal fees.

  Merlene had a tough time keeping the camera steady as the escaping car swerved out of the driveway and raced north on Granada. But she’d done good. Damn good.

  “Back it up,” he ordered.

  Merlene fumbled with the remote and rewound to the image of Neville Feldman exiting the house.

  “Freeze that frame,” Cody said.

  Neville’s round face stared directly into the camera, shadowy but easily identifiable. His right hand clutched a Glock semiautomatic.

  “Gotcha,” Cody said.

  “Do you recognize him?” Merlene asked.

  “Damn right, I do.” Cody stood and grinned at Merlene. “Sweetheart, you’re amazing.”

  As dimples deepened in her cheeks, he let this bit of good luck sink in. He wondered what kind of deal Sean Feldman would try to cut to worm his brother out of this surefire conviction. Who cared if he couldn’t get these scumbags for fraud? First-degree murder would do just fine.

  When her moist lips spread into a pleased grin, Cody’s heart lurched at his double good fortune. M
erlene might not smile often, but when she did, she set his world on a major tilt.

  Pulling her from the couch, he wrapped his arms around her slim waist and squeezed. He lifted and twirled her around the center of the room, breathing in her feminine, lemony fragrance while he lightly kissed, then nuzzled the delicious warmth behind her left ear. Man, she felt good.

  “Put me down.” She didn’t sound convincing, but he replaced her feet on the tile floor. She swayed against him, and he didn’t release her.

  “Dizzy?” he murmured into her hair.

  “Yes...I guess.”

  She clutched his shoulders tightly, pressing her fingers into his back, and he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were soft and parted easily. She tasted of strong, sweet Cuban coffee. A welcoming, husky noise escaped her throat, sending a wave of heat through him. He moved his body into her softness.

  She ducked her head and stepped away as if she’d been burned.

  He held on to her. “Hey, Merl...”

  “Cody, please.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “Whether we like it or not, we’re now working together on this case. Let’s not complicate things.”

  He tipped her chin and confronted eyes as gray as a battleship. “This isn’t very complicated.”

  “It is for me.”

  “Then how about if I explain what’s going on?” he said.

  “That’s all right.” She stepped away. “I think I understand.”

  He sucked air deep into his lungs. At least she understood. He wasn’t even sure what they were talking about anymore. Reluctantly, he let her go.

  “So,” he said.

  “What?” She turned back to him.

  “So I’m not your type?”

  She gave him a disbelieving sideways glance that told him all he needed to know. He was definitely her type. He reached for her again but stopped himself.

  The problem was he didn’t have a big enough bank account.

  Merlene would never let herself get involved with a poor working slob, especially not a cop. She’d made that perfectly clear, believing his profession to be full of—what was the term he’d heard her use?—pond scum. She liked huge diamonds and hefty divorce settlements. He’d looked up her divorce record in the county clerk’s office. Interesting file. Her neat home contained modern furnishings but nothing ostentatious or flashy. She might like money but was careful what she spent it on.

  He suppressed a stab of disappointment knowing he’d see plenty more of Merlene Saunders. As the pretty lady said, they were working together on the case.

  “Okay, then. So...thank you,” he said.

  She eyed him questioningly. “For what?”

  “For the recording, of course. Thanks to you, a very bad man is looking at a first-degree murder rap and no way to beat it.”

  Her eyes widened. “You think so?”

  “Not with this video.” He ejected the DVD. “But you know the D.A. will need you to authenticate the evidence at trial.”

  “Yeah, I understand. But that should be months away.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  Brows knit together, Merlene stepped farther away from him. She rubbed her left hand up and down her right arm, worry etched all over her now-pale face. He let her retreat. Too bad. Having her in his arms had been the nicest thing to happen to him in a long time. But this evidence changed the whole case. Hell, it changed everything. He’d need to put out an APB, notify the Coral Gables department, get an arrest warrant started on Neville Feldman. They needed to identify the second suspect traveling with Neville.

  He’d check in with Merlene later. They had plenty of unfinished business to... He hesitated, catching the nervous way she nibbled her lower lip.

  Truth was she had reason to be worried. Neville Feldman had been convicted of second-degree murder at the age twenty-three and served ten years in Raiford Penitentiary. If this scumbag caught wind of the video, he’d try to find its maker. He’d want to get rid of the evidence, and that meant getting rid of the videographer. Neville might not be crazy enough to think he could get away with two murders, but at this point what did he have to lose?

  Merlene needed to be careful.

  Cody dropped the disk in an evidence envelope. “Remember, Merlene, without your testimony, this recording is useless.”

  * * *

  “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?” Her thoughts rushing in a thousand directions, Merlene stared at Cody. Too much was happening. She felt as if she were floating around the room again, a wild ride in Cody’s strong arms. She needed to get her bearings.

  “It means I want you to be careful.”

  “Why?”

  Cody moved closer. “The guy in the video, the driver?”

  She nodded, wondering if she could stop Cody from kissing her a second time. She’d been right. Kissing him was addictive.

  She took a deep breath to focus. “Neville Feldman, you called him?”

  Cody nodded. “He’s a convicted murderer—not someone to take lightly.”

  “Why isn’t he in jail?”

  “He served his time. Listen, I’m not trying to scare you. Your name won’t be released to the public, so Neville won’t be able to find you.”

  “Good,” she said, wondering how Cody had switched from kissing her to police business so quickly. Pushing him away had been harder than she cared to admit. She’d been seconds away from dragging him into her bedroom. Not that he gave any signs of resistance.

  “I just don’t want you to take any foolish chances,” he continued.

  “I won’t. What will happen next?” she asked, at a loss for anything else to say.

  “I’ll log your recording in at the evidence vault,” he said.

  She slid her hands up and down her arms to keep them busy, closing her eyes against the memory of his erection pushing into her belly. She’d never experienced anything half as erotic in her life.

  What was it about Cody that caused her hormones to go into double overdrive? And how could she respond so strongly to him? She should still be furious with him for calling the authorities down on D.J.

  Well, if he could be all business, so could she.

  “I want to go with you to log in the disk,” she said.

  “Why?” he asked, turning away.

  She gulped for air. A rush of oxygen ought to clear her head. Damn Cody. Why did she need to go with him?

  “Chain of custody,” she explained. “Lawyers love to attack technical stuff like that. If I’m with you when you check in the DVD, no one can say the recording was tampered with.”

  Cody swiveled to stare at her, blue eyes cold. “Why don’t you come right out and say you don’t trust me?”

  She blinked at the harsh edge to his voice. “What?”

  “Is it just me, Merlene, or law enforcement in general?”

  She watched a muscle contract in his jaw and realized she’d offended him. Offering what she hoped looked like an apologetic smile, she said, “I trust you, Cody, even if you did release the wrath of Tallahassee on my agency. I don’t know why, but I do. I have a cautious nature. D.J. says it’s the Missouri Mule in me.”

  When he didn’t reply, she deepened her smile. “Besides, I like D.J., and he used to be a cop.”

  He focused on her face for a long time, not answering. Finally, he shook his head. “You drive me nuts.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “Not intentional, I assure you.”

  He winced. “That only makes it worse.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  AT FIVE O’CLOCK that evening Merlene settled herself on the sofa to watch the evening news, anxious to learn what the media reported about the Johnson murder. Cody had broadcast the license number of the murderer’s sedan in a police bulletin, so the police
were searching everywhere.

  She was dying to know what was going on. Had the car been located? If so, Cody hadn’t called, and she wondered if he’d bother to keep her informed on the latest developments. Probably not. When she’d last seen him, some internal switch had been turned on and he’d become all cop.

  She’d followed him to the station in her own car. Inside, he’d been aloof. Polite, but his mind obviously elsewhere. They’d registered the video with a snarky clerk, and Cody had pocketed the receipt.

  “Satisfied?” he’d asked, eyebrows raised, in a hurry to move on to other business.

  “Can I have a copy of the receipt?” she’d asked.

  “Why do you need one?” the clerk asked.

  “For my records.”

  “I haven’t got time,” the clerk said, turning away.

  “No biggie,” Cody said with a glare at the clerk. “I’ll make you a copy,” He’d taken her to a huge photocopier, keyed in a code and handed her a copy. Then he’d showed her the way out and disappeared behind a locked door with a quick wave. Some goodbye.

  Merlene raised the remote to turn on the television. No question Cody could be nice when he tried. He’d definitely been pleased by her recording. Fortunately, he hadn’t focused on her delay, but she had seen a shadow of doubt cross his face.

  The phone rang as the early version of the evening news began. Merlene paused the broadcast so she could resume watching later, and checked caller ID, hoping to see Cody’s number.

  Pat Johnson. Finally. She’d been trying to reach her client all day.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Merlene told Pat.

  “Thank you,” Pat said in a choked voice.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Yes, Merlene, there is.” Pat sounded exhausted and drained. “I’ve taken the liberty of couriering you a key to our ranch in Ocala. I want you to drive up and make sure it’s safe for the kids.”

  “Safe? What do you mean?”

  “We need to move in up there for a while until the police give me back the Gables house. They say it’s still a crime scene, so we can’t get in.”