One Good Man. Julie Miller
Читать онлайн книгу.
his work was a mighty cold companion when he lay in bed at night. It didn’t laugh with him over his mistakes, nor rally him when his faith faltered. It wouldn’t grow old with him.
Ignoring the debilitating influence of his own thoughts, Mitch unbuttoned the cuffs on his broadcloth shirt, rolled up the sleeves and sat down to do some of that work. He noticed the full mailbox on his computer screen and brought up the messages.
He scrolled through work-related contacts, but stopped when he came across an all too familiar name.
Captain Taylor
A convict named Emmett Raines escaped from Jefferson City. If you wish to alleviate your guilt from last night, you can tell me what KCPD knows about this.
Casey Maynard
“Guilt?” Mitch berated the computer screen. “She thinks I feel guilty?”
He ignored the fact that guilt had plagued him since learning he had used force against a handicapped assault victim, no matter how deadly her right hook might be. But her smoky eyes and proud little mouth had teased his dreams last night. Today Miss High-and-Mighty’s note aggravated that awareness into a full-blown distraction. He switched screens and typed in his response. “She’s got a hell of a nerve.”
The message he left was equally concise.
Look, princess, that kind of information is confidential. The state patrol and area enforcement officers will handle the case. Questions by vicarious thrill-seekers would only interfere. BTW, the number of forms I had to fill out last night more than makes up for any guilt I might have felt.
Your ever faithful civil servant,
Mitch Taylor
There. He clicked the send button and enjoyed a buoy of satisfaction that he had reminded her arrogant highness of her place in his life.
After that, Mitch dug into the paperwork on his desk. He worked steadily, ignoring the faint tickle at his nape. It was probably just his hormones working overtime. Casey Maynard had really gotten under his skin. He hadn’t quite felt sorry for her, but he’d felt for her.
Her grace. The delicate scent of her. That memorable shade of strawberry-gold hair. He might have found all of those things attractive. But she’d been so cold, so haughty.
So scared.
Mitch paused in his work. He leaned back and pressed his fist to his mouth. Is that what this was all about? She had needed him. For a few moments, anyway. When she’d been too weak to struggle. And later, when the blue-suits had walked in.
For a brief time, he’d gotten caught up in her need. He’d deluded himself into thinking she needed him.
He slammed his fist down on the desk, stirring papers and sloshing the dregs of his coffee. You’d think he’d learn. Hell. Jackie had needed him. She’d wanted someone solid and reliable to get her through those last days after her boyfriend had dumped her. A lot of people needed him because of his job. To protect and serve the citizens of the community. He was good at that.
But it could have been any decent guy. It could be any cop.
That’s why the princess was such an irritation. Wounded pride. He almost laughed. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel that in a long time. It was because of the bad day he’d been having, he rationalized. Casey Maynard had caught him at a weak moment.
Well, it wouldn’t happen again.
Mitch pulled out a handful of tissues and blotted at the coffee spots he had splashed across a memo. A blinking light out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. An incoming message on his e-mail.
Great. Just when he’d talked himself out of messing with her.
Mitch,
What kind of forms are you talking about? Police reports? I think it would be best to draw as little attention to me as possible. Please leave my name out of anything you file.
Casey
How about that? She’d deigned to move to a first name basis. He turned to the keyboard and answered her.
Princess,
Of course police reports. I discharged my weapon and investigated what I thought was a suspicious situation. It’s standard procedure. And your name is already on the dotted line.
Mitch
He pressed the send button and waited, almost relishing the anticipation of what she’d say in response. She didn’t disappoint.
“I didn’t ask you to come last night.” Several moments passed, and then another message appeared.
“What if I talk to Jimmy for you? Maybe we can forget the whole thing.”
Just what kind of pull did she think she had? Every officer, no matter what his rank, had to file reports whenever he used his weapon, whether it be against a perp or a door lock. Why did she think he’d change the rules for her?
Rules are rules. Talk to “Uncle Jimmy.” I think he’ll support me on this.
Mitch.
There was no pause this time.
“No! Don’t use my name. He’ll find me.”
“He’ll find you?” Mitch questioned aloud. He sent a brief message. “Who?”
He waited.
“Emmett Raines.”
“Who is Emmett Raines to you?” Mitch typed. “Did you think I was him?”
“Please!!!” she answered.
Mitch ran the name through his head and drew a blank. Maybe Emmett was an old boyfriend. She said he’d escaped. Maybe she saw enemies where none existed.
But the itch along his neck had him thinking otherwise. Real or not, her obvious fear dissipated the remnants of his anger. Reminding himself that it wasn’t his help she was seeking, he typed in a response.
“I’ll have one of my men look into it.”
He could almost feel her answer leap off the screen, as if he were talking to her in person and could read the expression in her eyes again.
No! Forget it! Just forget it! Don’t send anyone else to the house. Don’t come here again. And don’t call me princess!
What? The message ended abruptly, and he knew she’d signed off. Mitch stared mutely at the screen, wishing his own frustration could be transported across the modem links. He didn’t know what irritated him more, the idea that she thought she could dictate his actions and go over his head to his superior, or the discovery that she might be a little human like the rest of the world.
She didn’t like the nickname. She had gotten personal.
Their little e-mail interlude had left him as heated as last night’s face-to-face encounter. He could picture her eyes darkening along with her emotions. He could imagine that stubborn little chin pointing upward as she vented her fury on him.
He could see the fear in her posture as she stiffened her shoulders and tried not to let it show.
“Joe!” He bellowed for his lieutenant.
“Boss.”
“Sorry.” Mitch looked up guiltily, finding Joe waiting in the open doorway with his usual forgiving smile. “Emmett Raines. Check the wires. He just walked away from Jeff City. I want to know everything there is to know about him.”
“Anything in particular I should look for?” asked Joe.
“A connection to Jack or Casey Maynard. Something isn’t right.” He glanced at his computer screen. “I need to figure it out.”
Joe jotted the name on his notepad. He pointed to Mitch’s phone. “The commissioner’s on line two. I’ll get right on this.”