Marked for Murder. Lauren Nichols
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why can’t we talk about this?”
“Because it’s against department policy. Please don’t put me on the spot.” And please don’t tell me you’re not surprised that I said no yet again.
There was no missing the frustration in his eyes, but after a moment, he nodded.
They didn’t speak for a while, just sat there listening to the sounds of night approaching. Crickets chirped beneath the deck. A slight breeze lifted the pine boughs and ruffled the maples. Peepers in the creek below sang backup to Carrie Underwood as that Louisville Slugger song drifted through the kitchen screen.
The song was nearly over when Cole eased forward, stirred a half teaspoon of sugar into her tea, then slid it toward her. “I can help you with this case, Margo. Bring me in on a consulting basis.”
As much as she hated to do it, she had to shake her head. “You know what our budget’s like. We’re smaller than small potatoes. There’s no money. Even if there were a few dollars earmarked for consultant fees, I’d have to clear it with the mayor and town council.”
His expression cooled as he asked about the man who’d officially dismissed him. “Is Hank Keller still the mayor?”
Margo shook her head again. “No, Bernice Marshall is.”
“Good, then we have a shot. Tell her I’ll do it for nothing. That should make her decision a lot easier.”
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached across the table and laced his fingers through hers. Margo felt the gentle contact all the way to that place in her heart and mind where treasured memories were stored.
His low voice pulled at her emotions. “This case cost both of us in ways I’ll never forget, Margo. I need to be a part of it so I can finally close the door on that chapter of my life and move on.”
He could do that? How fortunate for him. She’d never be able to close that door completely.
“Maybe you could remind Bernice that you’re undermanned. With Wilcox gone, besides yourself you only have two full-time guys and two part-timers, one of whom is retirement age. We both know that some of the day-to-day work—important work—will be back-burnered while they’re chasing down leads.” His voice dropped a little more. “I can help, Margo.”
He was right. Everything he’d said made perfect sense. He had more experience than any other officer on the force, her included, and his instincts were spot-on. If he hadn’t lost his temper with John and been dismissed, he’d be leading this investigation. She’d be taking her orders from him.
“Will you do it?”
She nodded reluctantly. Including him was a perfect solution to a lot of their problems. But there was no way the butterflies beating the walls of her stomach would agree. If this was approved, and she had no reason to think it wouldn’t, they’d be working together again. Side by side. Day and night.
Cole’s smile of appreciation faltered as he seemed to sense her doubts. “It’ll be okay,” he vowed. “We’re both professionals. What we had is over. There’s no reason why it has to get in the way of the work.” He squeezed her hand, then withdrew his. “We got through dinner without a nuclear meltdown, didn’t we?”
Yes, they had—on the surface, anyway. But they’d both steered clear of anything that could become inflammatory. That could change if emotions ran high and they started in on each other again. The answer came from a tiny voice in the back of her mind. Then you’ll have to see that that doesn’t happen, won’t you?
“Okay,” she said after drawing a deep breath. “I’ll call the mayor first thing in the morning, and ask her to contact the council members. Considering the gravity of the situation, I doubt they’ll have to meet formally. A few phone calls should do it.”
Determination lined his face. “Good. I’d like to look at the Hudson file as soon as I can. The old files, too.” He checked his wristwatch. “Thirty minutes. My time’s up.” Rising, he stacked their plates and flatware on the tray she’d left on the seat beside him, and put their condiments and napkins back in the woven-straw basket.
“Leave them. You’ve done enough tonight.” Had he ever.
“At least let me do the dishes. You need to sleep.”
“Yes, I do. That’s why you’re leaving, and why I’ll clean up in the morning.” She nodded toward the steps leading to her driveway. “Go. I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. It’s not a done deal.” But she was ninety-percent sure that it would be.
“Good night, Margo. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Good night.”
Tears welled in her eyes as Margo watched him leave. Then she finished clearing the table, blew out the candle and looked toward Jenna’s B&B. In the fall, when the maples and oaks lost their leaves, she had a clear view of the Blackberry’s steep roofs and pretty turret. Now, with the trees fully leafed, she could barely see a few tiny lights on the second floor. That’s where all the rooms were.
That’s where Cole’s room would be.
Suddenly, the fear that working with him again would send her running for a good counselor and a bottle of antacids froze her to the deck boards. She was positively certifiable. What on earth had she been thinking when she agreed to this?
You know, that tiny voice in her head whispered. You know, and you don’t want to admit it.
She was still upset twenty minutes later when the cordless phone on her nightstand shrilled. Margo bolted upright in bed.
Quickly clicking on her lamp, she grabbed the phone and hoped with all her heart that it wasn’t more bad news. Then she checked the caller ID and stilled. It wasn’t Steve O’Dell at the station. Cole’s cell phone number glowed in the display window.
Taking a deep breath, then clearing her throat, she said hello.
“It’s me,” he said.
“I know. Caller ID. Did you forget something?”
“Yes and no. I’ve been thinking about that interview of yours. You threw down the gauntlet today—practically issued a challenge to the killer. I just want to remind you to be more aware of your surroundings. I was standing outside your car for at least ten seconds before I rapped at your window, but you didn’t know I was there.”
What did she say to that? It was your fault because I was thinking about you? That wouldn’t be wise. “I was distracted.”
“I could see that. But from now on, you can’t afford to be.” He hesitated again. “Be careful, okay?”
“I will. Thanks for calling.”
He waited on the line through the uncomfortable pause, then said, “Well…good night again.”
“Good night,” she returned quietly.
Margo replaced the handset in its cradle, then, after a longing look at the Bible beside the phone, flopped back on her pillow. Tomorrow would be another difficult day, and she needed to be clearheaded to deal with it. She needed to sleep. More than that, she needed to forget about the tall, tanned, dark-haired man who’d suddenly dropped back into her life. As if that was an option.
She started to turn off her bedside lamp again, then paused to look at the clock. She knew Bernice Marshall, knew she generally stayed up to watch the late news. Sighing, she picked up the phone again.
“Bernice?” she said when the woman answered. “It’s Margo. Are you wearing your mayor’s hat? I need a favor.”
He squatted in the ferns and pine needles, breathing in the fecund scents of pine,