To Trust a Cop. Sharon Hartley

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      CHAPTER TWO

      “HEY!” CODY SHOUTED as the car lurched forward.

      “I’ve been hired to watch her, remember?” Merlene shot a sideways glance at the detective as she accelerated and found him staring at her, mouth open. Yeah, maybe she shouldn’t have taken off with him in the car, but if she’d waited to get rid of him, she’d have lost her subject. No way was she losing her subject. Linda Cole could be on her way to meet Dr. Johnson.

      “You are unbelievable,” he said, fumbling the seat belt across his lap.

      “Just cooperating with your investigation.”

      “Then don’t follow so closely,” he said.

      “Thank you, Detective, for your professional advice, but I’ve never been made on a tail.” She kept her gaze fixed on the road, but the heat of his scrutiny made her squirm. At least the car’s movement created a rush of cooling air.

      “And how many tails have you been on?”

      “Probably less than you,” she admitted as she stepped harder on the gas. “So Nurse Cole is involved with whatever the doc’s into?”

      “You know I can’t answer that.” Cody peered at the speedometer.

      “What happened to trading information?”

      “Don’t speed,” he said.

      “I’m not speeding.” Okay. So she was—but only a little.

      Merlene stayed well behind the BMW as she followed the nurse toward Miller Drive, holding out her right hand to test the blessedly cold air blasting from AC vents.

      “She’s probably just going to the grocery store,” Merlene muttered. “Won’t even have time to cool the car down.”

      Warren loosened his tie. “Glamorous work.”

      Suppressing a laugh, she thought of the khaki shorts and sleeveless cotton blouse she wore, her usual surveillance uniform. Some glamour. In case she needed to follow a subject to a more formal atmosphere, she always kept a skirt and jacket hanging in the backseat. A good investigator was always prepared.

      “I hope she is going to meet Johnson,” Warren said.

      With both vehicles caught by a red light, Merlene scribbled the time and mileage in her notebook. “Why?”

      “Because he didn’t show up at his office today.”

      She raised her head. “Are you saying you don’t know where he is?”

      He rubbed a hand over his chin. “Not at the moment.”

      “Why don’t you have him under surveillance?”

      “Good question,” Warren said.

      “Well, well. I guess you should have let me stay last night,” she said, not even trying to keep satisfied amusement out of her voice. She couldn’t help but enjoy this turn of events. “I’d know his location if you hadn’t run me off.”

      Warren answered with a strangled noise.

      The BMW turned south on Galloway Road, and Merlene stayed with it.

      “How long have you been a private investigator?” he asked.

      “Two years. I work with D. J. Cooke Investigations.”

      Warren nodded as if he knew where she worked, which she didn’t like one bit. But of course he’d probably verified her license was current and she’d paid all her fees. Fortunately her boss was a stickler for those kinds of details.

      “I didn’t know D.J. was still around,” the detective said. “Tell him I said hello.”

      Was that a note of respect in Warren’s usually overbearing tone? “You know D.J.?”

      “He’s a good man.”

      “He is, isn’t he?” She adored her boss, a distant relative from Missouri. He’d taught her how to follow a subject and not get nailed. D.J. was semiretired now, bothered by too many medical problems, but she’d heard tall tales of his exciting career, first as a cop and then a P.I. “Did you ever work together?” She’d love to hear another war story about D.J.’s time on the job.

      “My dad knew him,” Warren said in a flat voice.

      She threw him a look, but he stared out the windshield, his eyes fixed on the vehicle in front of them.

      “Linda is turning into Norman Brothers,” he said.

      “Shoot.” СКАЧАТЬ