Lawful Engagement. Linda O. Johnston
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as one of his wait staff spat into the food of a patron who’d criticized the service last time he’d eaten there. That was when Beau had finally promoted her out of the copy room to reporter. He’d hinted of further promotions, too.
Score one for our side, Cara had thought. Her idol, the legendary Shotgun Sally, had reputedly once worn flouncing skirts and gone undercover as a dance hall girl to write a story on how it felt to be a fallen woman. She, too, had trounced all over those who failed to take her seriously. At least for her first big story, Cara had only had to put on a lacy apron over a short dress. Oh, and glasses and a wig.
Since her experience with Jerry, though, Cara hated the idea of sharing information with anyone. She’d made it clear to Beau that she would follow her own leads, write her own stories.
Beau had stopped underestimating her, at least when it suited him, but others hadn’t. Maybe it was because she was a woman, maybe because she looked so young. Though she used it to her advantage, she detested it.
Almost as much as she hated anyone to interfere with her getting her story. She’d allowed it once, but never again.
And now, she had even more impetus to get the story. She sighed and glanced back toward Nancy’s house. Her friend had been murdered. Maybe even because she’d been on the way….
Cara swallowed hard as she forced her gaze back toward the dimly lit street.
Mitch turned and preceded the techs back up the walk toward Nancy’s house—and where Cara stood. She half expected him to brush by her. Instead he stopped.
So did her breathing, for an instant, while she tried to figure out what to say to fix things between them.
“So, Deputy, any more questions for me? I definitely want to cooperate so you can solve this murder.” Assuming the Sheriff’s Department did solve this one.
Was it her imagination, or did the blankness in his gaze soften just a bit? “I’m sure you do. And, yes, I’ll have more questions for you, though not right now.”
“Good. Then I’ll just follow these people and take pictures while they work.” She reached way down into her bag, past the notebook, cell phone and personal digital assistant, to extract her digital camera. “That way, when you catch the perpetrator, I’ll be able to describe the entire process.”
Mitch Steele was one handsome deputy even when he scowled. If Cara recalled his father’s story correctly, Mitch’s mother was Native American, which would help explain the blue-black richness of his hair, the strong slant to his nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones and other features. That scowl of his only emphasized the well-honed planes of his face.
But when he let the corner of his mouth curve up in a half grin that way, Cara was sure he drove every woman in her right mind wild with lust.
She was in her right mind….
“No,” he said, bringing that creative imagination of hers back to reality.
“Pardon?”
“Ms…. Cara, I appreciate your cooperation. But you do not have my permission to get in the way.”
“I’ll stay out of the way. I promise.”
“Mm-hmm.” Though his murmur sounded affirmative, she was sure she was losing his attention, for he had turned to talk to one of the techs.
“If you let me follow them, I’ll tell you something I don’t think you know about Nancy,” she blurted out.
Damn! When was she going to stop speaking before she’d thought things through? She wasn’t always so adept at sticking her foot in her mouth. Something about this deputy was spurring her to foolishness.
But she had definitely regained his attention, for suddenly those piercing golden eyes were staring hard into her face. “If you have some knowledge about Ms. Wilks that’s relevant to this case, Cara, you’d better spill it. Now.”
MITCH WATCHED as the lovely Ms. Cara Hamilton back-pedaled. It would have been amusing if he hadn’t been certain that whatever she was hiding could be of significance in solving the murder of Nancy Wilks.
“You misunderstood.” The wide-eyed innocence in her luminous gaze didn’t convince him one bit. “I meant I don’t think you know how rotten Nancy felt that her job was disappearing so fast. She’d liked working at Lambert & Church. You know, the law firm where Paul Lambert was a partner? The guy who killed himself in jail after his murder of a local rancher was exposed?”
“Of course I know of it.” But Mitch hadn’t been directly involved in the case, despite its high profile. Maybe because it was so high profile, for though he had the seniority and authority to supervise on the most critical cases, Sheriff Ben Wilson made sure Mitch had other responsibilities that kept him busy. Like reorganizing the deputies on patrol so those who worked hardest got more to say about choosing their shifts.
Just like he’d been swamped with putting together the latest program to keep kids off drugs during the investigation of the murder prior to the one involving Lambert, the first murder the town had seen in two years. Most people claimed it was even longer than that. High profile? Heck, that one had been the highest profile, since the mayor himself had turned out to be the killer. And the victim had been a lawyer at the same firm, Lambert & Church.
The same place where the latest victim had worked. Was there a connection among the three killings? Hell, yes. There had to be. Mustang Valley wasn’t exactly a hotbed of crime. And with that same law firm at the center of all three… Mitch would follow that connection and see where it led.
Unlike the other killings, solving this case was his. And once he put it all together, he’d insist on the recognition he deserved. For once. No matter how much it galled others.
Although, partial invisibility would help with his personal, highly frustrating, agenda. So would following Sheriff Wilson’s orders—more or less.
Still, good thing Ben Wilson hadn’t thought that putting Mitch on the night shift for a while would lead to something big. Like being the first at a murder scene. And that gave him the advantage in staying in charge.
This time, his self-imposed patience—so much against his driven nature—would pay off.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Deputy—” Cara Hamilton’s lilting voice interrupted his thoughts. In the shadowed light from the nearby streetlamp, she watched his face with what appeared to be total concentration. Almost as if she were trying to read his mind.
A disconcerting idea.
“Sorry, Cara. We’re not through. I still want to know exactly what you’re hiding.”
He had to hand it to her. The woman was good. Her innocent smile hardly wavered. “Not a thing. But if anything comes to me, I’ll be sure to let you know, Mitch. Okay?”
His mouth opened as he instinctively started to correct her. It might be all right for him to use her first name, but if she used his, he risked losing his appearance of authority. And distance. And everything that would give him an edge over this civilian.
No matter how much he’d liked the way she’d said it.
But before he could say anything, she’d turned and headed for the house. Again.
“Hey.” He hurried after her, swinging around so that she nearly walked straight into him. She looked up with that same guileless expression he was coming to recognize. The expression that lied as easily as her mouth. Guileless? Heck, the woman was an expert at deception. And nosy as all get-out. In his face, and in his way.
“Look, Ms. Hamilton. If you’re not willing to talk to me here, you’ll have to come to the station.”
His body blocked most of the light emanating from the porch behind him, so she stood in shadows. He could nevertheless see how her forehead crinkled as she mulled this over. He observed the arch to eyebrows, which, despite the dimness, seemed a similar shade of auburn