To Trust a Cop

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Cody placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Hey, take it easy.”

Her chest rose as she inhaled deeply. “You didn’t hear that loud crack. You didn’t see those men run away.”

He released her and opened the car door. “I’ll check it out. Wait here.”

Exiting the car, he wondered why the hell he was bending the rules for Merlene. He’d known her...what? Less than a week and he was about to peer in the front window of Dr. Richard Johnson’s house, a man that two days ago was the subject of an investigation he’d been abruptly ordered to terminate. He’d played it strictly by the book for years and now—

A car door closed behind him. Cody whirled around.

“I told you to wait in the car,” he growled as Merlene moved close. A flicker of distrust flashed through her eyes, an expression he’d analyze later.

“I’ll make a better witness if I see what’s going on. Besides, you might need me.” She clutched her cell phone as if it were a lifeline.

He stared into her stubborn face and couldn’t think of how to dissuade her.

“This is my client’s house. I have her permission,” Merlene insisted. She dug in her pocket and held up a key. “I’ve never used it, but Pat gave me this just in case.”

“You have a key to this house?”

“So it’s not trespassing, is it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

He turned and moved through the front yard. Merlene stayed with him.

“Do you think we’ll be able to see anything through the front window?” she whispered near his ear. “There’s a light on in the foyer.”

He held up his hand to slow her down, then edged forward. “We won’t need your key. The door is wide-open.”

CHAPTER FIVE

MERLENE ENTERED THE DOOR behind Cody but slammed into his chest when he turned to block her view.

Too late. She’d already seen a pool of dark blood spreading from a body sprawled in the white marble foyer—a grisly image reflected endlessly in the mirrored walls on either side of the chilly room.

Dr. Johnson’s body. She shivered. This couldn’t be happening.

Cody swore. “Go outside,” he ordered. “You don’t need to see this.” Then he knelt to feel for a pulse.

But she didn’t move, couldn’t move. She felt frozen, as if the cold had seeped into every cell of her body.

She knew the doctor was dead even before Cody performed his grim ritual. The amount of blood left no question.

“Oh, God,” Merlene breathed.

Cody gently pried the phone from her hand and led her to a porch step. “Wait here while I call this in. We can’t disturb the scene any more than we already have.”

* * *

TWO HOURS LATER, still sitting on a narrow step of the Johnsons’ front porch, Merlene found herself in the center of an active crime scene. At least twenty cop cars—most of them marked and with their blue lights flashing—surrounded her. Some of the vehicles were from the Coral Gables Police, some from Miami-Dade County. Even a Florida Highway Patrol cruiser had come for some strange reason.

An hour ago the medical examiner’s van had arrived. Two men had entered the house pushing a gurney draped with a white sheet. They hadn’t come out yet, but she knew they’d eventually remove Dr. Johnson’s body. She guessed they were still processing evidence, likely taking photos, making drawings.

Yellow crime-scene tape flapped in a light breeze around the Johnson premises. She knew they’d placed the barrier to keep out nonpolice personnel. Scores of curious neighbors huddled on the other side, speaking to each other, staring at the house, at her, no doubt speculating about what had happened. Trucks from all the local television stations had already shown up, too. Vultures come to pick on the bones of the dead.

Merlene closed her eyes, wishing she could block out the chaotic scene. How had this happened?

“Here you go, Mrs. Saunders.”

She opened her eyes. Officer Garcia had brought her the coffee he’d promised. Finally. She lifted a plastic lid to find black, thick liquid swirling in a white take-out cup. Steam wafted into the night air. No cream, but that was the least of her worries.

“Thanks, Officer Garcia.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” the heavyset officer said.

He’d been with her since the police vehicles began arriving. Maybe he was her handler, assigned to keep an eye on her. She’d been over the chain of events three times with various detectives. She knew they were looking for inconsistencies, hoping to trip her up.

Merlene took a sip of the bitter brew and felt warmth slide into her empty stomach, but knew nothing could fill the cold, empty space created by the horrible image of Dr. Johnson’s lifeless body.

“We won’t keep you much longer, Mrs. Saunders,” Garcia said.

She glanced at Cody. Jaw locked into a grim scowl, he stood on the other side of the yard surrounded by five or six uniformed men. No doubt he’d told his story several times, as well. But while Coral Gables’ finest treated her like a suspect, they afforded Cody endless respect.

Of course the video would prove the arrival and hasty departure of the murderers, but she hadn’t yet mentioned its existence. No way would she turn over the recording before she’d reviewed it first. Evidence could get lost, and she needed to make a copy for her client. And to protect herself. Merlene took a hesitant sip of dreadful coffee, her mind racing. She needed to figure out the best way to handle a tricky situation.

Cody had been pulled from this case for a reason. What if one of the cops here was involved? She couldn’t take the chance.

Garcia flipped back a few pages of his small spiral-bound notebook. “Detective Warren vouched for you, Mrs. Saunders, but we still have to confirm your story with Mrs. Johnson. We’ve been unable to reach her.”

Merlene hated the idea that anyone would call Pat at three-thirty in the morning. Poor Pat. What a way to find out your husband had been murdered.

“You’re not planning on leaving town, are you, Mrs. Saunders?”

“Hey, lay off, Tito.” Cody stepped to her side. “Mrs. Saunders has done nothing wrong. She called me immediately. The body was still warm.”

Still warm. She covered her face with her hands. Still warm. “I can’t believe this.”

“If you’re through here, I’m going to drive Mrs. Saunders home,” Cody said, reaching to help her up. “Come on, Merlene.”

She started to object as she pushed herself up but bit back her comment. Cody was right. She shouldn’t drive right now. She was too shaky.

“What about my car?” she asked.

“It’ll be safe until tomorrow.” Cody took her arm and guided her toward his vehicle.

Her thoughts churned as they crossed the dark yard in silence. They ducked under the yellow ribbon, and continued toward his car, blue lights flashing in disorienting circles around them. Since there were police cars everywhere and likely would be for a while, her car should be fine. Still, she couldn’t leave without her camera or at least a dupe of the video.

She needed to think. Why couldn’t she come up with a plan? Because she was so very tired. Her feet felt like fifty-pound weights as she trudged toward Cody’s car.

Cody opened the passenger door of his unmarked vehicle, and she collapsed into the seat, undeniably glad to be with him on this awful night no matter what. She’d worry about why later.

He slid behind the wheel, slammed his door, then turned to her. Their gazes locked, and she couldn’t look away.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a quiet, steady voice.

She forced a smile. “Am I acting that scared?”

“It’s only natural you’d be shook up.”

“You probably see scenes like that all the time,” she said, glancing back to the house, wondering if Cody could be in trouble for being at the murder scene of a man he’d once investigated.

“More often than I like.” He shrugged and also looked toward the Johnson residence.

She hadn’t considered how phoning him could drag him into problems, create a difficult situation for him at work. But she saw it now.

“Right now I hardly know my name,” she said. That at least was the truth.

He squeezed her shoulder as if to encourage her. “I’ll drive you back tomorrow to get your vehicle,” he said.

She nodded. “I’m too drained to argue. I can’t remember ever being this tired.”

Cody almost said something, then shrugged and started his car. She closed her eyes and settled into her seat. Before the car moved, she sat up straight.

“Wait,” she said. “Please.”

“What?”

“I need to get my purse out of my car.”

Before he could stop her, she ran toward her Toyota. She knew she had to work fast or arouse Cody’s suspicions. The video camera lay on the passenger seat floorboard. She opened her purse and jammed the camera inside. Thank goodness the compact equipment fit. She covered her binoculars with her jacket, grabbed the textbook for her education class and moved toward Cody’s car with the items cradled in her arms.

“In case I can’t sleep tonight,” she told him when she’d climbed back inside, indicating the book.

Relief flooded her when Cody nodded and accelerated onto Granada Avenue. Thank goodness, he didn’t notice anything amiss.

After a moment she asked, “The murder has something to do with your investigation, doesn’t it?”

When he didn’t answer, Merlene swiveled to look at him. A muscle worked in the side of his jaw. He focused on the road, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

So Cody wasn’t going to tell her what was going on.

That figured. She’d watched a murder practically happen under her nose, but from now on she’d be kept in the dark. Always that one-way street.

“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Not yet.”

“Damn you,” she muttered. But she shifted in the seat and tamped down her frustration. She wasn’t telling him everything, either. And Cody had been a big help on this terrible night, getting to her quicker than she could have imagined. Had she even thanked him?

Cody ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, I don’t know what’s going on yet.”

They remained silent for a few miles. Merlene broke the silence with, “Who’ll call Pat?”

“We have a protocol to follow in cases like this. Officers will break it to her as gently as possible.”

Yeah, right, she thought, remembering the cops who had broken it to her that her parents had been killed in a head-on collision. Streetlights flowed by Cody’s car in a blurred streak as she recalled the uniformed officers on her front step, sunglasses blocking their eyes so she couldn’t tell if they held any sympathy.

Both her mom and dad had been dead drunk, though, so probably hadn’t felt a thing. But she’d been fifteen years old, trying to take care of a twelve-year-old brother. She’d felt plenty. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. None of that was Cody’s fault.