Colton's Secret Investigation Page 8

  “Professional except for this?” Stefan asked. She nodded. He gave her an even wider smile. “He’s lucky he has you to count on to keep things going when he’s gone. So if you could get us those schedules, we’ll let you get back to it.”

  The woman truly blushed this time.

  “Well, you flustered her right into hurrying that through,” Daria said with a smirk as the woman instantly went to do as he’d asked.

  “And you had the presence of mind to not make it look like we were zeroing in on Shruggs.” He seemed to be looking at her rather intently when he said, “We make a good team.”

  They did, investigatively. Together, they were able to bounce ideas off each other without fear that the other would find them without merit or even stupid. He saw things she hadn’t, and vice versa. And they were in tune; he was quick to pick up on where she was going, and she often got to what he was thinking before he had to tell her.

  They were a good team.

  And professionally was all he meant, she told herself sternly.

  Chapter 11

  Stefan saw it immediately, but he didn’t say anything. He wanted to be sure, and so he silently let Daria go over the data provided by Ms. Bates as he drove them back to the office. She was interrupted only by a text, which she read and frowned over, before putting her phone away again.

  “Still nothing on the newest missing girl,” she said. “I asked them to keep us updated.”

  He nodded. “What’s your feel on that? When does she become ours?”

  “Hopefully never. But as for a time element, since she’d already been missing a week, I’d say not much longer.”

  “Agreed.”

  They were pulling into the secured parking lot behind the sheriff’s office when she released a long sigh.

  “Do those dates he was away match as closely as I think they do?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes.” She gave a shake of her head. “And those that don’t match are the ones where we aren’t sure exactly when those girls vanished.”

  “Under these circumstances,” he said flatly, “that should be enough to buy us a warrant to search his place.”

  “I’ll call Trey. Just for the judge on call’s name. I need to update him anyway.” She pulled out her phone again, and he saw her notice the time on the lock screen. “We need to go get Sam and head to Fiona’s.”

  “I...yes.”

  “He’ll do fine, Stefan. Her boys are great, and they’ll welcome him. And some good rough-and-tumble time might be just what he needs to get some of that anger and uncertainty out of his system.”

  “If it accomplishes that, it’ll be a miracle,” he deadpanned.

  “If it does, maybe that means you need to keep him too worn-out physically to have the energy to stay mad.”

  “Maybe I’ll start him running marathons.”

  When Daria’s gaze narrowed, he had to suppress a teasing smile. He didn’t quite succeed. “Will you be running with him?” she asked, just a shade too innocently.

  He went suddenly still, the bit of humor vanishing as the ugly memories connected. “I’ve run one,” he said quietly.

  “Oh?”

  “Boston, 2014.”

  He saw the change in her, in her demeanor and in those golden eyes as she understood immediately the significance of the date: the year after the bombing.

  “A good choice,” she said softly.

  He nodded, acknowledging her understanding. “Yes. It was.”

  For a moment they just looked at each other, not as agent and deputy, not even as man and woman, but as warriors in a battle that never seemed to end. They were part of that wall between the innocent and the ugliness, and he knew instinctively that Daria Bloom would stand, as would he. No matter the insanity from the outside, or even from within, they at least would stand.

  She called Trey up on her contact list. And smiled as she said, “He told me he assigned me a unique ring on his phone, but he won’t tell me what it is.”

  He smiled back at that, and her lightening of the mood. He thought of suggesting it was probably something sexy, but that seemed wrong after the moment they’d just shared.

  “He said it’s so he won’t inadvertently dodge me when he’s avoiding the media. They’re hounding him more and more as the election gets closer. Even the governor’s on his case about it, because it makes the whole state look bad.”

  “Sucks,” Stefan said succinctly.

  “Yes. I feel so bad for him—he’s such a good man.”

  “Seems he’s taking most of the heat for what’s happening, even though Roaring Springs itself isn’t his responsibility,” he said.

  “Exactly. But civilians don’t care about jurisdiction—they just want this over. Not that I blame them, but still, it doesn’t seem fair when the rest of the county that is his responsibility is calm, quiet and peaceful, with the lowest crime rate it’s had in years.”

  “You should do an ad for him,” Stefan said. “Except I’m not sure anybody who saw it and didn’t know you would believe you were a deputy.”

  “And why not?” she demanded.

  “They’d think you were some actress they hired because of your looks.” When she stared at him as if she wasn’t sure what he’d meant by the compliment, he tried to save face. “Not their fault. They’d only see the surface—they wouldn’t know how good a cop you are.”

  “Oh.” He thought he saw a tinge of pink in her cheeks, but he wasn’t sure. And then she was making the call, putting it on speakerphone.

  Trey Colton answered almost immediately. And was obviously relieved to hear that they had a lead, at least. He didn’t ask for anything more; when he’d turned this case over to Daria, he’d meant it. Because he was an honest man, Stefan thought. This was one vote—maybe the only one in recent memory—he would cast without qualm.

  When Daria asked about the judge for a possible search warrant, Trey answered quickly. “Judge Cruz is on call this weekend. He’s been following the case, so he won’t slow you down. I can get you his number—”

  “No, I’ll find it,” she told him. “We haven’t started on the affidavits yet. Besides, I want to be able to swear all you gave me was a name.”

  “Copy that,” Trey said, sourly enough that even Stefan noticed. “And now, lucky me, I have a meeting with Mayor Dylan.”

  Stefan raised a brow at her when she ended the call. “It’s wearing on him. The case, the election...”

  “It’s amazing he’s still upright. Says a lot about him.” She sighed. “I’m so glad he has Aisha now. She helps him stay level.”

  By the time they reached The Lodge gates, she had the judge’s number, but there was no point in making the call until they had the paperwork done, or at least their reasoning outlined.

  “How fast do we need to move on this, do you think?” he asked.

  “My instinct is to jump instantly, because it’s the first small break in a long time, but in reality I don’t know.”

  “I don’t think we tipped Shruggs—you took care of that nicely. But...”

  “But it might be easier to search his premises without him there,” she countered.

  “True.”

  “Let’s get Sam over to Fiona’s,” she suggested. “And after we get him settled, we can drive by Shruggs’s place for a building description, then we can go to the office and get going on the paperwork while we call the judge.”

  “Agreed. We can have a plain clothes meet us at Shruggs’s place, watch for him and sit on it until we get back with the warrant.”

  Daria nodded. “Good idea. And have them stay either way, keep an eye on him. And if he is there, we’ll want more backup. If he’s our guy...”

  “He’s not going to come quietly,” Stefan concurred. “Not with all this hanging over his head.”

  They made the n
ecessary arrangements, then headed back to Stefan’s car. On the way, he made a call to the sitter to tell her they were coming and to make sure Sam was ready.

  He grimaced as he ended the call.

  “Problem?” Daria asked.

  “No. She just said Sam didn’t want to get ready.”

  “I thought he was excited about going,” she said.

  “He was. Is. She said he didn’t want to get ready because he thought we weren’t coming. That he holed up in his room after he told her I hated him.” He sighed. “I swear, sometimes I think he’s actually scared of me.”

  “Of course he is. You’re so much bigger than he is, and he doesn’t really know you. Maybe try getting down on his level a bit more.”

  Something clicked almost audibly in his brain, a memory of days back in training when they’d covered how to deal with children. He hadn’t had to use that often in his career, and so it had never occurred to him to use the techniques—such as what Daria had suggested, crouching down to their level—on his own son. That alone told him how thrown he’d been by this whole thing.

  He shook his head, as much at himself as at his son. “Where’d he get the idea we weren’t coming?”

  “That sounds like a kid who’s been let down too often.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to make sure you don’t let him down,” she said softly. “And if you ever have to, then you’d better make it up to him.”

  “And just how do I do that?”

  She gave him a sideways look and a teasing smile that did weird things to his pulse. Which was crazy—it was just a smile. “I know someone who has a cabin, out of the reach of cell and internet.”

  “I’m afraid he’d consider that cruel and unusual punishment.”

  “To actually have to talk to and get to know his father? Perhaps. But it might be worth it.”

  She might have a point. Although he had to admit when he thought of retreating to a remote, private cabin with no interruptions, it was Daria who immediately came to mind as a companion. Which in turn made him feel guilty, because he needed to get to know his son as much as the other way around.

  Damn, things had gotten deep and murky in a hurry. One day he was cruising along thinking life was pretty good, and the next he was in the middle of dealing with a serial killer and a five-year-old, and he wasn’t sure the kid wasn’t the worst of it. He knew how to go after a killer, but his son too often had him at an utter loss.

  As for Daria, he wasn’t at a loss there. He knew exactly what he wanted.

  He also knew he couldn’t have it.

  Chapter 12

  “Daria!”

  Sam’s happy cry did things to her insides. And as he ran across Stefan’s sleek, rather cold living room, clunking a bit in snow boots, she could see his father in the shape of his face, his nose, even the way he tilted his head to look at her. She was willing to bet that in about ten years, the resemblance would be even more obvious, as Sam proceeded on the journey from boy to man.

  “Hey, kiddo, you ready for this?” she asked as he skidded to a stop before her. “It’s cold out there.”

  “Aw, there’s not that much snow here.”

  “Not enough to build a snowman?”

  “Maybe a snow head.”

  She laughed, and he grinned, looking delighted. “Well, you might find a bit more at the Alvarezes’,” she said. “They’ve got a yard almost as big as mine, so you’ve got a lot more room to gather it from.”

  Sam gave her another of those head-tilted looks. “You have a big yard?”

  “Huge. Too huge sometimes.” She leaned down and whispered conspiratorially, “You could get lost out there and have to climb up to my tree house to see your way back.”

  Sam’s eyes widened to huge, dark saucers. “You have a tree house?”

  “Sort of. It doesn’t have walls or a roof, so it’s not the best when it’s snowing, but when it’s nice you can sit up there.”

  “You should put walls and a roof on!”

  “I’m not sure the tree’s big enough for that. But I can guarantee you’ll have a full-on fort to play in today. Oh, and I understand there’ll be sledding.”

  Sam lit up. “Really?”

  “They’ve got a little hill in back, just steep enough to really get going. Their dad cleared a nice path for them, too, so no crashes.” Sam looked almost disappointed and Daria barely managed not to laugh. “Cool boots, by the way,” she added. The boy grinned and stuck a foot out. “Do you have a change of clothes, for when you get all wet in the snow? Especially warm socks?”

  Sam’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Got something to stuff stuff in?” she asked, and he grinned yet again at her words.

  “I’ve got my backpack,” he said and whirled to run and get it.

  Stefan had been quiet throughout their exchange, just watching. “What?” she asked, when he just looked at her.

  “I didn’t think of extra clothes, either,” he said. Then, with a shake of his head, “You’re amazing with him.”

  “I just talk to him.”

  His mouth quirked. “Then maybe it’s just that I’m so bad with him.”

  “You’re probably just feeling awkward, still. It hasn’t been that long, and you haven’t had time with him, with this case.”

  “Still making excuses for me?” he asked.

  “Maybe. You certainly don’t seem inclined to.”

  “My family wasn’t big on excuses for not doing what you needed to do.”

  “And you had to do it right the first time, every time? And fast?”

  His brow furrowed. “No. You just had to keep honestly trying.”

  She said nothing, just looked at him with raised brows. And after a moment he let out a wry chuckle. “All right, all right. Point taken.”

  “Have you always been good at everything you’ve ever tried?”

  He laughed. “Hardly. You don’t ever want to hear me try and play music.”

  “Sports?”

  “Lousy at football, good at baseball, liked tennis.”

  She leaned back a little, registering again his considerable height. “I’ll bet you have a smashing serve.”

  “Pretty rusty now,” he admitted, and she liked that he didn’t deny it.

  “The Chateau has some good tennis courts. Maybe you should sharpen that up when the weather’s better.”

  He gave her an assessing look. “Know anyone who could help me get that rust off?”

  “I might,” she said rather airily as Sam ran back, carrying his school backpack by one strap. She could see the sleeve of a shirt hanging out where it wasn’t zipped all the way closed.

  “Where’s your school stuff?” Stefan asked.

  “I’ll put it back later,” Sam said, sounding a bit defensive.

  “I wasn’t criticizing, son,” Stefan said mildly, “just wondering if that big bed was actually helpful for once.”

  Sam looked surprised. “Yeah, maybe. That’s where I dumped it.”

  “Get your jacket on, then, and let’s get this adventure started.”

  Sam stared at his father. “Adventure?”

  “Sure,” Stefan said. “What’s an adventure except something exciting you’ve never done before?”

  Pleasure dawned on Sam’s young face. “Yeah!” The boy ran to grab up the heavy jacket that lay across the back of the tailored gray couch.

  “You’re getting the hang of it,” Daria said softly.

  He looked at her. “I’ve been watching an expert.”

  They heard a slight thump and looked to see Sam wrestling with trying to get his jacket on without putting down the backpack. Stefan started to take a step toward him, but Daria stopped him.

  “Let him figure it out,” she whisp
ered. “Aren’t you curious to see how he does it?”

  He didn’t speak but stayed put as they watched Sam stop, appear to be thinking for a moment. Then the boy set down the backpack, untangled his jacket from it, put it on and then picked up the pack again.

  “Thanks,” Stefan whispered back to her as his son turned around.

  “Acknowledgment might be in order,” she suggested.

  Stefan nodded and shot her an appreciative grin that gave her an entirely new feeling inside. “Nice job,” he called out to Sam.

  Again the boy look surprised, but he did smile.

  “Ready?” Daria asked.

  Sam nodded enthusiastically, and they were off. And as the child scrambled into the back seat of the car, Stefan startled her by reaching out to take her hand and squeeze it.

  “Thank you,” he said again, rather fervently.

  “My pleasure,” she returned without thinking. Then had to look away to hide the evidence of what had slammed into her mind at the words.

  * * *

  Stefan would give anything to know what had just gone through Daria’s mind, but he didn’t dwell on it. He didn’t dare; his own mind was already skittering far too often into that dangerous territory.

  Besides, for the first time he felt...hopeful that he and Sam would reach some kind of accord. It seemed so simple when Daria did it, so obvious, yet he couldn’t deny it worked. He’d even gotten a smile out of the boy with the simple praise she’d suggested.

  “So, living here might not be so bad after all, huh?” she said to the boy in back.

  “Maybe.”

  “Not the best way to come here, though.”

  “You mean ’cause my mom sent me away.”

  It wasn’t a question, and the flat, carefully emotionless tone his son said it in dug at his gut. He was going to have words with Leah one of these days, but not until he thought he had at least a chance of doing it calmly.

  “My mother gave me up, too,” Daria said softly.

  “She did?” Sam sounded astonished. “Why?”

  “She was sick and couldn’t take care of me.”