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“I watch that one, too,” Rick replied. “It’s not bad.”
“You could record it,” Sims suggested. “Don’t you have a DVR?”
She shook her head. “I’m poor. I can’t afford one.”
Rick glared at her. “We work for one of the best-paying departments in the southwest,” he rattled off. “We have a benefits package, expense accounts, access to excellent vehicles…”
“I have a monthly rent bill, a monthly insurance bill, a car payment, utilities payments and I have to buy bullets for my gun,” she muttered. “Who can afford luxuries?” She glared at him. “I haven’t had a new suit in six months. This one looks like moths have nested in it already.”
Rick’s eyebrows arched up. “Surely, you’ve got more than one suit, Cassaway.”
“Two suits, twelve blouses, six pair of shoes and assorted…other things,” she said. “Mix and match and I’m sick of all of it. I want haute couture!”
“Good luck with that,” Rick remarked.
“Luck won’t do it.”
“Hey, is this the guy we’re looking for?” Sims asked suddenly, looking through the telescope.
Chapter 3
Rick and Gwen joined him at the window. Rick snapped a photo of the man across the street, using the telephoto feature, plugged it into his small computer and, using a new face recognition software component, compared it to the man he’d photographed.
“Positive ID. That’s him,” Rick said. “Let’s go get him.”
They ran down the steps, deploying quickly to the designations planned earlier by Rick.
The man, yawning and oblivious, stepped out onto the sidewalk next to a bus stop sign.
“Now,” Rick yelled.
Three people came running toward the stunned man, who started to run, but it was far too late. Rick tackled him and took him down. He cuffed his hands behind his back and chuckled as the man started cursing.
“I ain’t done nothin’!” he wailed.
“Then you don’t have a thing to worry about.”
The man only groaned.
“That was a nice takedown,” Gwen said as they cleared their equipment out of the rented apartment, after the man had been taken away by the patrol officer.
“Thanks. I try to keep in shape.”
She didn’t dare look at him. She was having a hard enough time not noticing how very attractive he was.
“You know,” he mused, “that was some fine shooting down at HQ.”
She beamed. “Thanks.” She glanced up. “At least I do have one saving grace.”
“Probably more than one, Cassaway.”
She shouldered her purse. “Are we done for the night?”
“Yes. I’ll input the report and you can sign it tomorrow. I snapped at my mother. I have to go home and try to make it up to her.”
“She’s very nice.”
He turned, frowning. “How do you know?”
“I came through Jacobsville when I had to interview a witness in that last murder trial,” she reminded him. “I had lunch at the café. It’s the only one in town, except for the Chinese restaurant, and I like her apple pie.” She added that last bit to make sure he knew she wasn’t frequenting his mother’s café just because she was his mother.
“Oh.”
“Has she owned the restaurant a long time?”
He nodded. “She opened it a couple of years before I was orphaned. My mother worked for her as a cook just briefly.”
Gwen nodded, trying to be low-key. “Is your mother still alive? Your biological mother?” she asked while looking through her purse for her car keys.
“She and my stepfather died in a wreck when I was almost in my teens. Barbara had just lost her husband and had a miscarriage the month before it happened. She was grieving and so was I. Since I had no other family, and she knew me, she adopted me.”
She flushed. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious.”
He shrugged. “Most everybody knows,” he said easily. “I was born in Mexico, in Sonora, but my mother and stepfather came to this country when I was a toddler and lived in Jacobsville. My stepfather worked at one of the local ranches.”
“What did he do?”
“Broke horses.” The way he said it was cold and short, as if he didn’t like being reminded of the man.
“I had an uncle who worked ranches in Wyoming,” she confided. “He’s dead now.”
He studied her through narrowed eyes. “Wyoming. But you’re from Atlanta?”
“Not originally.”
He waited.
She cleared her throat. “My people are from Montana, originally.”
“You’re a long way from home.”
“Yes, well, my parents moved to Maryland when I was small.”
“I guess you miss the ocean.”
She nodded. “A lot. It wasn’t a long drive from our house. But I go where they send me. I’ve worked a lot of places—” She stopped dead, and could have bitten her tongue.
His eyebrows were arching already. “The Atlanta P.D. moves you around the country?”
“I mean, I’ve worked a lot of places around Atlanta.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I didn’t always work for Atlanta P.D.,” she muttered, trying to backpedal. “I worked for a risk organization for a year or two, in the insurance business, and they sent me around the country on jobs.”
“A risk organization? What sort of work did you do?”
“I was a sort of security consultant.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t quite a lie, either. She glanced at her watch as a diversion. “Oh, goodness, I’ll miss my television show!”
“God forbid,” he said dryly. “Okay. We’re done here.”
“It didn’t take as long as I expected,” she commented on the way out. “Usually stakeouts last for hours if not days.”
“Tell me about it,” he said drolly. “Is your car close by?”
She turned at the foot of the steps. “It’s across the street, thanks,” she said, because she knew he was offering to walk her to it. He was a gentleman, in the nicest sort of way.
He nodded. “I’ll see you Monday, then.”
She smiled. “Yes, sir.”
She turned and walked away. Her heart was pounding and she was cursing herself mentally. She’d almost blown the whole thing sky-high!
Barbara was her usual, smiling self, but her eyes were sad when Rick showed up at the door the night before he was due home.
“You said tomorrow?” she murmured.
He stepped into the house and hugged her, hard, rocking her in his arms. He heard a muffled sob. “I felt bad,” he said at her ear. “I upset you.”
“Hey,” she murmured, drawing away to dab at her eyes, “that’s what kids are supposed to do.”
He smiled. “No, it’s not.”
“Want some coffee?”
“Yes!” he said at once, pulling off his suit coat and loosening his tie as he followed her to the kitchen. He swung the coat around one of the high-back kitchen chairs at the table and sat down. “I’ve been on stakeout, with convenience-store coffee.” He made a face. “I think they keep it in the pot all day to make sure it doesn’t pass for hot brown water.”
She laughed as she made a fresh pot. “There’s that profit margin to consider,” she mused.
“I guess.”
“Did you catch a crook?”
“We did, actually. That new face recognition software we use is awesome. Pegged the guy almost immediately.”
“New technology.” She shook her head. “Cameras everywhere, face recognition software, pat downs at the airport…” She turned and looked at him. “Isn’t all that supposed to make us feel safer?”
“No, it’s supposed to actually make you safer,” he corrected. “It makes it harder for the bad guys to hide from the law.”
“I guess so.” She got out cups and saucers. “I made apple pie.”
“You don’t even need to ask. I had a hamburger earlier.”
“You live on fast food.”
“I work at a fast job,” he replied. “No time for proper meals, now that I’m in a position of responsibility.”
She turned and smiled at him. “I was so proud of you for that promotion. You studied hard.”
“I might have studied less if I’d realized how much paperwork would be involved,” he quipped. “I have eight detectives under me, and I’m responsible for all the major decisions that involve them. Plus I have to coordinate them with other services, work around court dates and emergency assignments… Life was a lot easier when I was just a plain detective.”
“You love your job, though. That’s a bonus.”
“It is,” he had to agree.
She cut the pie, topped it with a scoop of homemade ice cream and served it to him with his black coffee. She sat down across from him and watched him eat it with real enjoyment, her hands propping up her chin, elbows on the tablecloth.
“You love to cook,” he responded.
She nodded. “It isn’t an independent woman thing, I know,” she said. “I should be designing buildings or running a corporation and yelling at subordinates.”
“You should be doing what you want to do,” he replied.
“In that case, I am.”
“Good cooks are thin on the ground.” He finished the pie and leaned back with his coffee cup in his hand, smiling. “Wonderful food!”
“Thanks.”
He sipped coffee. “And the best coffee anywhere.”
“Flattery will get you another slice of pie.”
He chuckled. “No more tonight. I’m fine.”
“Are you ever going to take a vacation?” she asked.
“Sure,” he replied. “I’ve already arranged to have Christmas Eve off.”
She glared at him. “A vacation is longer than one night long.”
He frowned. “It is? Are you sure?”
“There’s more to life than just work.”
“I’ll think about that, when I have time.”
“Have you watched the news today?” she asked.
