Starting with June. Emilie Rose

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      “Back up. You wanted me to get a feel for June without bias?” Roth’s words and matter-of-fact tone rolled around in Sam’s head until the answer sifted through. This wasn’t about getting Sam laid. “You think she’s a dirty cop?”

      “What do you think?”

      Sam considered her bright eyes and straightforward conversation, the flowers littering every surface of her porch, the toy box, her goody basket, ruffled bikini and ridiculous sandals. Crooked? No. Too sweet and naive for her own good? Definitely. Sexy—

       Do not go there.

      “No.”

      “Good.” Roth rubbed the back of his neck. “I hope you’re right because of her connection to my wife, but I don’t trust anyone at this point. Keep your eyes open. Again, I apologize for the deception, but I didn’t see any other way.”

      “How old is Jones?”

      “Twenty-seven.”

      “I would have guessed twenty-one at the most. How long has she been with the department?”

      “Four years, almost five. Less time than the corruption has been going on.”

      “Where was she before that?”

      “She trained and worked with Raleigh PD before moving into the rental house on Madison’s farm—a farm that June inherited from her grandfather, then sold to Madison. She applied for a job with Quincey PD, and Piper’s dad, the former chief, hired her on the spot, cutting through the usual red tape like a hot knife through butter. That caused a little friction in the department, I’ve heard, and it raised a lot of questions for me as to the presence of corruption in this department.”

      “Is she qualified?”

      “I wouldn’t jeopardize your safety by partnering you with an incompetent.”

      “An incompetent under investigation.” Everything in Sam wanted to retreat. Roth must have read it on his face.

      “Jones graduated in the top five percent of her class. C’mon, Sam, you’ve had women in your platoon before. You’re no sexist pig like the other two out there.”

      That raised his hackles again, but only because he didn’t like to think of his sisters being treated unfairly. “This isn’t about her being a woman, Roth. How am I supposed to investigate her when we live twenty feet apart and she brings me food?”

      “You’re not a hostage dependent on her. A few brownies won’t give you Stockholm syndrome. And don’t feel too special. June feeds all of us. How else do you think I knew she could cook? The close quarters puts you in a perfect position to see who comes and goes at her place. I’m not asking you to date her. Just keep your eyes open.”

      “You’re a native, too. Why can’t you show me around?”

      “I’ve been away too long, and, of course, I arrested one of their own. Never mind he was caught red-handed moving moonshine. I pissed off a lot of people by calling in the ATF instead of handling the situation discreetly in-house and giving him a gentle tap on the wrist. Locals don’t trust me yet.

      “Aycock and Morris worked with that deputy for more than a decade. That makes their conduct the most suspect. The Feds questioned them and don’t think they were directly involved, but I need your help deciding whether they looked the other way, if they’re good liars or not smart enough to see what was right under their noses.”

      “Your father-in-law wasn’t.”

      “That’s different. Lou and the dirty deputy were buddies. Lou trusted too much and ignored the obvious—something Butch White used to his advantage.”

      Sam shook his head. “It’s strange hearing you defend a man you once cursed, the same man who ran you out of Quincey and threatened to lock you up if you ever returned or contacted his daughter again. But pairing me with June—not a good idea. She’s my neighbor...”

      “You’ll deal with it. As a female, June is less likely to be part of the good-ol’-boy network. But she’s lived in Quincey long enough to know how this town operates and to possibly have been contaminated by all the I’ll-scratch-your-back-if-you-scratch-mine crap.”

      Sam still wanted no part of being strapped to his pretty neighbor. “Let me recon solo. It’s what I do best.”

      “You should have realized by now that Quincey’s like a fishbowl. Our fine citizens have been watching your every move since you drove into town. You don’t fit our typical tourist stereotype. That’s one reason we didn’t get together before this morning. Here, solo, you’d be suspect. But June is Quincey’s sweetheart. With her by your side, folks will let down their guard. Give it a month, Sam. Then you’ll have your own car or you’ll be finished with the assignment. Can’t you handle four weeks—less if you provide evidence to who’s dirty and who isn’t sooner?”

      Sam gritted his teeth. What choice did he have? He’d made a promise. “Affirmative.”

      “Good. Then let’s get you sworn in. Our esteemed mayor has arrived.”

      The sarcastic bite to the word esteemed caught Sam’s attention. “Not a fan?”

      “He’s a big fish in a little puddle. Likes to throw his weight around. What do you think?”

      They’d both had their share of abuse of power—usually the short officers with big mouths and bigger egos. “Roger. Trust him?”

      “He’s a butt-kissing politician.”

      Negative. “’Nuff said.”

      Roth yanked open his office door. “Jones, bring Rivers’s gear. We need a witness. You’re it. Let’s get this show on the road. We have work to do.”

      * * *

      THIRTY MINUTES LATER June closed her cruiser door and turned to face the man riding shotgun. Her goal was to make the loop around town, introduce Mr. Bad Attitude to as many people as possible, then dump him back at the station.

      “Why didn’t you tell me you were the new deputy?” she demanded.

      “I didn’t know you were with Quincey PD.”

      “How long have you known the chief?”

      “What makes you think I do?”

      Anger and exasperation vied for supremacy. “Can’t you just answer the question? Your evasions are really irritating.”

      “What makes you think I’m dodging?”

      She battled an urge to bash her head on the steering wheel. “You answer every question with a question. But the answer you’re seeking is—when you’re with the chief, your body language isn’t that of two men who just met.”

      “You’re a body-language expert?”

      Cocky bastard. “Let’s just say it’s a hobby. Where did you train?”

      “Marine СКАЧАТЬ