Detective on Call Page 8

  Except today, as she rolled to her back and stretched her arms overhead, her muscles were as soft as pulled taffy and she was warm all over. Oh, no. She’d dreamed of Emmanuel—Detective Iglesias—all night long. Even in bed alone, the ridiculous dreams of romance and tender intimacy mortified her. She covered her face with her pillow. This was not good. The man was a trained observer. How would she face him today? Ever?

  She leaped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, avoiding her reflection. A cold shower and a cup of coffee would clear her head and body. People had sex dreams all the time with inappropriate partners. It wasn’t as if she had to discuss it with anyone. Clearly it was a fragment in her subconscious linking her biggest stressors.

  The dream was an outlet. No need to make herself crazy about it. As soon as she saw him today, she’d remember the man was the opposition. He was the biggest enemy to her making the case, even if he had gone above and beyond to help her last night.

  The bracing shower helped, and drying off, she caught the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. Today was going to be so much better. Pausing at her closet, she quickly decided on dark cropped jeans and a more casual white tunic blouse since she’d be working from home between meetings with the adjuster and cleaning crew. And if she had to go to the police station?

  Emmanuel said he and his partner would come here.

  Dressed, her hair pinned up in a loose knot, she took her laptop into the kitchen, setting it on the counter. Once she filled a mug with fresh coffee, she added a spoonful of sugar and carried it back to the bathroom to apply her makeup.

  Feeling almost normal again, she went to work. The threat staining her living room startled her. It shouldn’t have. Though it would’ve been nice, she’d known it wouldn’t miraculously disappear. Determined not to let herself fall into another fearful paralysis, she deliberately turned her gaze to the desk and her thoughts to Emmanuel.

  She hadn’t expected him to help her clean up or see that her locks were changed. Was that all out of some obligation to Griffin or was that just his way?

  Watching her parents’ marriage fade into too much silence, diverging interests, and separate bedrooms had eroded Pippa’s faith in the institution of lifelong partnerships. She could count on her siblings, but she didn’t want to rely on anyone else. Didn’t want to need anyone else. Her insistence on handling life’s challenges on her own created some friction with her siblings, who only wanted to protect her. Between her stubborn streak and her tunnel vision when it came to a case, relationships didn’t stand a chance.

  The system had worked for her. Right up until tonight. Something about Emmanuel made her want to rest, to share theories on a case or the burdens of a bad day. He made her want to lower her guard.

  He couldn’t possibly take care of all the victims he met the way he’d cared for her. She had assessed his recent caseload. He worked like a man with no hobbies.

  Not unlike herself.

  She wanted to admire that despite his testimony sending the wrong person to prison. And now she knew beyond any doubt he held a grudge against her client.

  This obsession with him wasn’t healthy or practical; it was dangerous territory. She had to get the man out of her mind.

  Would he really look at the case with fresh eyes today? Was it even possible for him to remain truly objective?

  With her second cup of coffee in hand, she opened the curtains, just enough to let in some light without giving anyone outside a view of the nastiness on her wall. That just couldn’t come down fast enough.

  On the street she noticed an unfamiliar car. Nerves struck immediately, and she was reaching for her cell phone when the person in the driver’s seat moved. She recognized the jacket and the curl of hair around the man’s ear. Both belonged to Detective Iglesias.

  Had he spent the night out there? That was ridiculous. He’d left his business card; she could just call him. Concerned there had been more trouble, she decided to go down and talk to him. She wouldn’t know if she should be charmed or irritated by his presence until she had some answers. Whatever his reasons for being here at this hour, she would get further if she was nice.

  Filling a travel mug with hot coffee, she walked downstairs. Stepping out of the building, the first thing she noticed was the frown on his mouth as he spoke into his cell phone. Cautiously, she looked around for more law enforcement. If there was an immediate crisis, she couldn’t imagine he’d be here without backup.

  She crossed the street and tapped on his window, regretting the bold move when his head jerked up and around in surprise. She hadn’t meant to startle him. His brown eyes darted from her condo and back to her, as if he couldn’t make sense of her being in the wrong place.

  He rolled down the window, and she saw his eyes were red rimmed. She could almost feel the distress pouring out of the car.

  “What’s wrong, Detective?”

  “Just tired.” He smiled, but she wasn’t fooled. “Long night.”

  “Were you out here all night?”

  “It was the right place to be,” he replied.

  Everything about him was strung tight, from his smile to his white-knuckled fingers curled around the steering wheel. Something was terribly wrong. “You’re upset,” she said, stating the obvious.

  “No. Just tired.”

  That time she heard his voice crack. “I brought you a coffee, but maybe you should come upstairs and talk it out. This time I’ll fix breakfast.”

  “That’s...generous, Pippa,” he said. “I couldn’t possibly eat, but thanks all the same.”

  Why couldn’t men just share rather than waste time in denial? “Come upstairs anyway.”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  She hung on to the coffee she’d brought for him. “Maybe I’m out here because someone else is up there.”

  His gaze narrowed, and he reset his grip on the steering wheel. “That isn’t funny.”

  Probably not, but she wouldn’t let him sit out here alone with whatever was troubling him. She could analyze her reasons later, but seeing him so unhappy troubled her. “Ask anyone who knows me, I won’t give up.”

  Grumbling, he rolled up his window and got out of the car.

  She handed him the coffee she’d brought downstairs. “It’s black,” she warned. “I wasn’t sure how you take it, but—”

  “Caffeine is caffeine at this hour.”

  That’s exactly what she would’ve said. “Right.” She crossed the street, and he got the door half a step before she could, holding it open for her. “Thanks.”

  Upstairs at her condo, she did a double take when her lock wouldn’t open. Her palms went damp and her pulse skittered.

  “You changed the code,” he said, his voice rough.

  She paused, drying her palms on her jeans before she tried again. More than forgetting the new code, the flash of fear rattled her. This was her home, and until yesterday walking inside had been a comfort. She’d been gone only a few minutes, and she was afraid that she’d catch someone in the act when the door opened. What would happen when she came home again after being gone all day?

  “It’s just us,” Emmanuel said, as if he could read her mind.

  His certainty soothed her as much as it embarrassed her. She’d invited him up to talk about his troubles, not to rehash hers. The door opened and she stepped inside, studiously ignoring the damaged wall as she went straight to the kitchen.

  Behind her, Emmanuel closed and locked the door.

  Striving for a breezy hospitality, she said, “If you want to clean up or anything, go ahead. The guest bath is fully stocked.” He knew her place as well as she did after last night.

  “Seriously?” He took a drink of the coffee. “I’ll just be a minute. Thanks,” he said, excusing himself.

  He wasn’t the only one who knew how to be thoughtful. When he returned a few minutes late
r, she had bacon in the oven and water simmering for poached eggs.

  “What’s all this?” he asked.

  “Breakfast.” She grinned. It was basically the same thing he’d prepared for them last night. “Most important meal of the day.”

  “I’ve heard studies that contradict that,” he said. “And I really need to get going.”

  She wasn’t sure how to read his expression. His gaze was haunted, but since leaving his car, he seemed intent on being cheerful. She’d earned her reputation for being pushy, and right now she thought he needed a push to open up. Maybe even a shove. “You have time for coffee.”

  His expression turned mulish. She’d seen it plenty when her brothers were trying to avoid an uncomfortable topic.

  “I don’t give up,” she reminded him for the second time in five minutes. “Did something happen at home or with your family?” She dropped the eggs into the water, stirred gently and covered the pan.

  “Please don’t do this,” he said.

  “You don’t like eggs?”

  “Pippa. I don’t want to talk.”

  “You helped me last night,” she pointed out.

  “So pestering me today is how you say thanks?”

  She didn’t reply, just checked the bacon and dropped slices of bread into the toaster.

  With a sigh, he sat down on a counter stool and laced his fingers together, thumbs pressing back and forth. “I got some really bad news. An email landed in my inbox a few minutes ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She set down plates and silverware, napkins and condiments.

  He fiddled with the utensils. “Two more deaths have been linked to RevitaYou.”

  It took all of her self-control to hold back a tidal wave of questions. News had spread that the miracle vitamin was making some people ill, and one death had already been attributed to a toxic element in the proprietary formula. Yet people were still taking it, choosing to roll the dice for the sake of feeling and looking younger.

  “Do you know the victims?” she asked, plating the bacon, toast and eggs.

  He stared at the food for a long moment, then pinched his eyes closed before he looked up again. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Taking a seat at the end of the peninsula, she started to eat, but Emmanuel kept staring at his plate. She knew he wasn’t seeing the food, but rather someone who had been important to him.

  “I only know one victim directly. Ingrid Glucksburg.” His lips canted to one side and he sniffed. “She was a GRPD informant. The report listed her as fifty years old.”

  That sounded far too young to Pippa for someone to be buying antiaging supplements, but that was exactly why the market was huge. The sadness in his voice made her heart ache. Tempted her to reach out and soothe him. She kept her hands busy with her breakfast.

  “Before she became an informant, she was a petty thief.” A smile flitted across his lips. “I can’t tell you how many times she joked that all she needed was a good facial and a day at the spa to erase the years. She swore if she could look young enough to turn my head, she’d ask me out.”

  “She sounds like a real character,” Pippa said.

  “You have no idea.” Emmanuel sighed. “She was ornery and spry and smart as a whip, despite the bad choices she once made.”

  Nothing she’d read or heard in the trial transcripts prepared her for these facets of Emmanuel’s character. Last night’s generosity and his compassion today were a surprising counterpoint to the yawning grief that seemed to be threatening to swallow him whole.

  “I’m really going to miss her,” he said, pushing his eggs around his plate.

  Pippa wished he would eat his breakfast. He needed to keep up his strength. “How did you become friends?” she asked.

  “Catching Ingrid in the act was kind of a rite of passage in a way.” He tore his toast in two, and buttered one piece. “She would give new patrol officers a run for their money on the street. There were times when her interactions with officers gave us better insight than any formal training or evaluation.”

  “What do you mean?” she queried.

  “You know the Star Wars movies?”

  Not the question she was expecting. “I’m offended you have to ask.” When he only stared at her, she took a bite of her bacon, hoping to trigger a mimic effect. It worked. He took a bite of his bacon, as well. Hooray for those psychology classes she’d aced in college.

  He chewed and swallowed and his smile seemed a little stronger. “Remember when Yoda pesters Luke after he crashes in that swamp?”

  “Of course. It was an attitude test.” She ate a bit more, and he did the same.

  “The first of many,” Emmanuel agreed, chasing a bite of eggs with more coffee.

  “Ingrid was like Yoda,” he continued. “She often knew right away who would turn into a good cop and who would be problematic or quit at the first sign of adversity.”

  Fighting the strangest urge to pull him into a comforting hug, Pippa cradled her coffee cup in both hands. A dozen more questions zipped through her mind, but he was eating well now and she didn’t want to interrupt him.

  When he finished, he stared at the empty plate as if he wasn’t sure what had happened.

  “More coffee?” she offered. “There’s more bacon too.”

  “I’d better not.” He checked his watch. “Daniel’s expecting me any minute. Thanks for breakfast. And for listening.”

  “My pleasure.” And it had been. Most of the time when she remembered to eat, food was only functional. Feeding Emmanuel had felt far more personal and filled her with a new and delightful satisfaction. She enjoyed sharing meals with her siblings, even pitching in with the cooking or clean up. And she often found helping others energized her. This was different; it created a fluttering sensation around her heart. She couldn’t quite put a label on it. Wasn’t sure she wanted to. She hadn’t enjoyed the topic, but she had enjoyed his stories and insights about his friend. The man was dangerous territory, indeed.

  “I am sorry for your loss,” she said, walking him to the front door. “It’s all the more reason to put an end to this RevitaYou nonsense and the Capital X enablers issuing those impossible loans. I’m glad I’ll be part of the solution when I apply for a loan tonight.”

  She pulled the door open, but he shoved it closed, his face clouding over. But this wasn’t sorrow, it was anger.

  Chapter 6

  He couldn’t have heard her correctly. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her away from the door, held her firmly. “What did you say?”

  “Let me go.”

  Her green eyes blazed. She was angry. He understood that. “Answer me first.” She could not be entertaining the idea of deliberately putting herself in harm’s way. Griffin hadn’t mentioned how she would work on the Capital X case, only that she was determined to make a difference.

  He stepped back and rubbed at his gritty eyes. He hadn’t slept well. It wasn’t possible to truly rest in the car with his body braced for trouble and his mind preoccupied with the woman in front of him. And now Ingrid. He was overwhelmed, that’s all.

  Her death would take some time to get over. He pressed his fist to the ache deep in his chest.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Fine.” The coffee would kick in soon and all of this would make sense. “Repeat that last thing, please.”

  Her brow flexed, then cleared. “Oh. I’m going to apply for a Capital X loan tonight. Colton Investigations is putting the final touches on things today.” She bounced on her toes, and he noticed her feet were bare. “We’re all set to go at seven o’clock tonight.”

  “That’s crazy.” Couldn’t she hear how crazy that sounded? “Those people are dangerous. Why would you set yourself up?”

  “The loan isn’t for me,” she said. “They’ve been wor
king on an alias, complete with identification, a background, the works. I’m just the one filling in the details online.”

  “No.” He couldn’t let her do that. He turned away from her, his gaze slamming into the threat on the wall. What if that hadn’t been about Wentworth? And she’d implied there had been other threats too. “You can’t.”

  He’d shown up to help a friend, but something about her made him want to do more. A lot more. The idea of her in danger scraped at his frazzled nerves like a burr in a sock. “I’ll talk to Griffin. You’ll make a new plan.”

  Her gaze grew hard. “That’s not your place.”

  “It should be,” he shouted. “It’s too easy to trace IP addresses,” he said, forcing his voice to behave. “Capital X will come after you—”

  “That’s what we’re counting on. But not me, not here,” she added in a rush. “Relax, Detective.” She reached out, rested her hand on his arm. “We’re professionals at Colton Investigations. They did some masking thing to make it harder to find this laptop.”

  He did know CI’s good reputation. At the moment all of his attention had zeroed in on the place where her hand touched him. He could feel the heat of her through the layers of his shirt and jacket. He wanted to take that hand in both of his and—

  “Maybe you should go home and get some rest.”

  Great, now she thought he was inept. Or too grief stricken to work. But work was what got him through. “I’m not doubting the expertise. I’m pointing out that you’re planning to apply for a loan from a bank that doesn’t only charge late fees. This company,” he used air quotes, “is vicious. They break bones.”

  “I’m aware.” Stepping back, she folded her arms over her chest, taking away the sweet-hot contact. “We have a foster brother out there hiding from Capital X enforcers while his broken bones heal. We can end this. I’m not walking away because it’s risky.”

  Damn it. There was plenty of room between walking away and walking right into the line of fire. “I’m not asking you to walk away. Can you tell me what precautions you’re taking?”