Detective On The Hunt. Marilyn Pappano

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СКАЧАТЬ If she told Douglas—and the handsome Officer Foster—that Chadwick had specifically told her to not touch base with them, she would seem petty or defensive. Besides, no cop bad-mouthed her chief to cops she’d just met. That would be a big step toward giving Dipstick the reason he needed to fire her.

      So she put on her best trust-me face—a smile that was neither over-nor underwhelming, her gaze clear and steady—and added a bit of sheepishness to it. “I really did intend to come by later today. I was just eager to get to work.”

      “Work,” Chief Douglas repeated. “What’s your interest in Maura Evans?”

      Had Chadwick told him the truth about that or tried to screw her there, too? Was she going to tell her story only to find his had been totally different and thereby look like an idiot—worse, an untrustworthy idiot—in front of these fellow officers?

      Nothing she could do but be honest herself. If the boss had muddied things between her and the local department, she would just have to make the best of it.

      “Maura’s a local girl. She left town a few years ago after her parents’ deaths. She’s twenty-five, single, still grieving…and very wealthy. She settled here in Cedar Creek about six months ago and, three months later, cut off contact with everyone back home—friends, relatives, the family attorney who also happens to be her godfather. He wants to know what’s going on with her.”

      She saw a flicker of expression—negative—cross Officer Foster’s face, making it easy to guess what he was thinking. Spoiled rich girl, selfish, entitled, the center of her own universe—her influential lawyer godfather taking advantage of the system, the chief giving in to political pressure to treat Maura as if she were special.

      It was harder to tell with his chief, though. Douglas’s expression gave away nothing, and neither did his tone. “Your department must be blessed with detectives—and funds—if they can send one halfway across the country to do a welfare check on one of our residents.” Then came a faint whiff of disapproval. “A check that we would have happily handled for you if you’d just called.”

      Her smile thinned. Hey, she wasn’t onboard with this, either. She had much more important cases she could be working on, cases where there was actually a police interest. “Did I mention that the town Maura Evans left is named Evanston? The Evans family have been rich and powerful since they founded the town in 1804. They donated land, set up charities, ran businesses, built schools and libraries and churches and hospitals. The men were war heroes, and the women were social workers ahead of their time. They are one ridiculously wealthy family that everyone in town respects and cares about.”

      She hesitated, then corrected herself. “They were. Maura has distant relatives, but she’s the last one in the direct line.” People would have treated her like their greatest, most fragile treasure if she hadn’t fled town after the funerals. But no one blamed her for that. How could she have stayed in that town with its all memories, in that house knowing…?

      With a suppressed shudder, JJ shifted her gaze to Officer Foster. Quint, the chief had called him. She liked the name. It was neither overly common nor trendy nor so unusual as to be unspellable, unpronounceable or unmemorable. “I really was just having a look around out there this morning.”

      His only response was the smallest of shrugs. The chief, on the other hand, raised one brow. “That’s what you call surveillance back in South Carolina? Having a look around?”

      “All right, yes, I parked down the street from her house this morning for fifteen minutes…maybe thirty…maybe an hour.” She couldn’t resist a rueful grin, the one her sisters called her mischief grin. Standard when she’d been caught with the cookie jar in her hands and chocolate chips smeared across her face, saying, Yes, I’m guilty, but I’m just so darn adorable, you have to forgive me for it. Dad always had. Mom usually had. She achieved varied success with others, and it looked like none whatsoever with Quint Foster.

      Aw, she’d really like for him to find her adorable. If not him… She remembered the other officers she’d seen when they’d come in. Good-looking, every last one of them. Hopefully, between work, she’d manage some play on this trip, too.

      “Along with a pair of binoculars, a map of the city, a camera, a large cup of coffee and an empty bag from Ted’s Doughnuts.”

      JJ was impressed that Quint had been so observant. With those dark glasses he’d had on, of course, she couldn’t see where his gaze was directed, but it had felt as if it was on her the whole time. Obviously not.

      “Didn’t take her long to figure out where the best doughnuts in town are, did it?” Douglas murmured.

      Though the comment wasn’t directed at her, she responded with a little shrug. “Cops and doughnuts. What can I say?”

      He smiled briefly at the stereotype, then opened the laptop and began clicking away. She’d never had a chief who was anywhere near her age, but she would bet Sam Douglas was even a few years younger. He didn’t wear a uniform—Chadwick always wore a uniform with four shiny gold stars on his collar to ensure everyone recognized him as the head honcho—but instead was dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. A soft-looking gray cowboy hat was on the file cabinet to the left of his desk, leading her to expect cowboy boots on his feet if she could get a peek.

       You’re definitely not in Carolina anymore, JJ.

      “Okay, Detective Logan—we don’t stand on ceremony much around here. All right if I call you JJ?”

      She nodded.

      “I’m Sam, and he’s Quint.”

      Wow. She’d never had a chief who was that casual, either. Even the last one, her mentor, had never invited her to use his first name. He’d believed in good work relations, but there was a line that should never be crossed.

      “You didn’t ask what we know, but we’ll tell you anyway. You have the address of the house Maura’s renting. You know she drives a little red car that cost more than a lot of people’s houses around here. I’ve never met her myself, but my officers have handled four disturbance calls at that address for loud parties and given her three—no, four citations for speeding.”

      Disturbance calls at that big house at the end of that lonely street. Those must have been some parties.

      “Quint gave her three of those tickets.”

      She shifted her gaze to Quint. He hadn’t changed position—he still leaned against the table—but his posture seemed fractionally more rigid, his expression harder. She was half surprised he could open that taut jaw to add, “I also answered one of the disturbance calls with Ben.”

      Sam frowned. “Why was Ben answering a disturbance call?”

      “He was in the office when it came in. Loud party, forty or so people, lot of booze.”

      JJ called to mind the area across the hall that served as reception, dispatch and detective squad, including a very tall, very broad-shouldered muscular man. “I’m going to guess Ben is the big guy out there at one of the desks.”

      Sam nodded. “Six foot four, solid muscle, can make you confess to anything just so he’ll go away and stop looking at you. No matter how drunk people are, they never want to take on Ben Little Bear.”

      She envied that. When she was in uniform, all the drunks had wanted СКАЧАТЬ