Above the Law (16 page)

“Say no more. Give it to me.”

Dale read off the plate number.

“Got it. Call you right back.”

Dale had only driven a few more miles when her phone rang. “Nelson.”

“I got the info,” Andrea said, “but it’s not real helpful. It’s a rental car. Registered to Enterprise. I can run it down further if you have a little time.”

Dale considered taking advantage of the request, but the tone of Andrea’s voice signaled she might be sending the wrong message if she asked for more favors. “No, that’s okay. It’s probably nothing. Thanks for your help.”

“I’m here anytime you need me.
Anytime
.”

Dale winced at the not so subtle emphasis in Andrea’s tone, but she kept her voice calm and got off the phone as quickly as possible. She was probably just being paranoid, about the car, about Andrea’s flirting, about everything. She’d been on edge all week and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, her moods had started shifting with the appearance of Lindsey Ryan. Swinging from excited to annoyed and back again, she didn’t understand how this woman could hold such a strong sway over her feelings. Just a few more days and Lindsey would be gone, and then she wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. Even that revelation gave her mixed feelings, and she needed something to distract her. The plan to lure Sergio out of hiding couldn’t have come at a better time.

*

“Do you think she spotted us?” Alice asked.

Lindsey looked back and watched the taillights of Dale’s truck fade into the distance. “She probably saw the car for sure, but I doubt she realizes it’s us. Why would she? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

After she’d left Elaina’s room, Lindsey had phoned a contact the network used to dig up background information who was known for his discretion. She’d asked him to prepare a dossier on Dale. If Dale was going to be the hook for this story, she wanted to know everything: her family, her friends—past and present, what she did for fun. Within an hour, she had her hands on some preliminary information, but the rest would take some time. On a whim, she’d told Alice to grab her equipment and they drove to the address the investigator had given her for Dale’s home.

Dale’s apartment building was older and nondescript, but it was clean and it appeared to be well maintained. The individual units were only accessible through two locked security doors, and one of those doors was located in a tenant only parking garage. They’d circled the building a couple of times to get a feel for the place when Lindsey had spotted Dale’s truck parked on the street. “I bet she plans to go out again.”

“What do you want to do?” Alice asked.

Following Dale around town felt like borderline stalking, but Lindsey was compelled to know more about her, although she wasn’t entirely convinced she was only digging for the sake of the story.

Maybe they should go back to the hotel. She could wait for the file from the investigator and learn what she needed from the paperwork. She had been about to tell Alice that when she saw Dale walk out the door of the building and head to her truck. She ducked down in her seat and made a snap decision. “Let’s see where she goes.”

Following Dale’s truck out to the country might have been a stupid move, but she’d managed to gather a lot of information during the trip. An Internet search of county records revealed her destination was a piece of property called the Circle Six Ranch, owned by Raymond and Helen Davis. When she dug a little deeper, she discovered Raymond and Helen had a daughter named Peyton who was an assistant United States Attorney, working in the Northern District. She also discovered Peyton was engaged in a lawsuit against her brother Neil and Gantry Oil—a temporary injunction having to do with drilling rights at the ranch.

On its own, what she’d learned wasn’t much, but on a hunch she had her contact run the plate of the car that had turned into the ranch right after Dale. The sportster belonged to Bianca Cruz, the AUSA they’d met that morning, and she didn’t think it was a coincidence that a DEA agent was meeting with two AUSAs outside of the office. When she’d shared her hunch with Alice, she’d suggested they wait for a while.

Now it was an hour later, and Lindsey was certain Dale had spotted their car. As they raced down the road, she could only hope the dark night hid their identity.

“What now?” Alice asked.

“Good question.” Lindsey considered her options. She wanted to find out everything she could about Bianca Cruz and Peyton Davis, but it was pretty unlikely they would be able to mine resources until the next day. Which left Dale as the only subject of her curiosity left to explore. She made a split-second decision. “I need you to drop me off on your way back to the hotel.”

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

Dale unlocked her apartment and walked the few feet to the kitchen where she fished in the fridge for a beer. She’d have one and then try to sleep since she’d have to be up early the next day to put the plan they’d hatched into motion. She was halfway through the bottle when she heard a knock on the door. The clock on the stove read nine p.m.—late for an unexpected visitor. When she peered out the viewfinder and saw Lindsey Ryan, unexpected was an understatement.

It was late and she was tired, but she couldn’t deny the surge of anticipation at the sight of Lindsey standing outside her door. She’d changed out of the suit she’d worn earlier and was dressed in dark jeans and a rich looking burgundy V-neck sweater. Probably cashmere, probably designer. She shook her head. Her law enforcement training meant she was acutely aware of descriptive details, but lately it seemed she was obsessed with every facet of Lindsey’s appearance, and it had nothing to do with her work. She schooled her features into what she hoped was a nonchalant expression.

Lindsey’s hand was raised to knock again, and she looked startled when Dale opened the door. “What’s the matter?” Dale asked. “Some late night filming emergency?”

“If I said yes, would you invite me in to talk about it?”

She was definitely quick on her feet, and Dale made a mental note to be careful. Lindsey’s ability to improvise might be admirable on screen but could pose a problem if she decided to turn her investigating skills to something other than the story her network had assigned. She glanced back inside her apartment. Except for the day she’d been released from the hospital, she hadn’t spent much time here during the past few weeks, so the place was relatively clean and uncluttered, but the real reason for her hesitation was not knowing the true reason for Lindsey’s visit. Curiosity won out and she swung the door wide. “I’m having a beer. Join me?”

“A beer would be great. Thanks.”

Dale pulled another bottle from the fridge and twisted the cap off before handing it over. She watched, transfixed, as Lindsey took a long pull and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The simple act was so unassuming and so completely sexy, and she couldn’t help but like her more. “Thirsty?”

“Actually yes. PR is hard work.”

Lindsey’s tone carried a slight edge of sarcasm, and Dale figured she was trying to provoke a reaction. Since she had no idea where Lindsey was headed or why she was here, she kept her response even. “I imagine it is. Especially if it means you have to make night visits to your contact. I assume you’re here about the story, right?”

Now it was Lindsey’s turn to maintain composure. Dale could almost see her mind ticking through the options: tell the truth, make up a story, or settle for something in between. When Lindsey’s features finally settled, Dale was convinced she was going to dissemble.

“Yes, it’s the story.”

“And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I suppose it could, but I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want to take a chance on catching you off guard tomorrow.”

Dale’s antennae went up and she struggled to keep the edge out of her voice as she asked, “Any particular reason I should have my guard up?”

Lindsey cocked her head like she was trying to assess hidden meaning behind Dale’s question, but Dale gave her nothing. Lindsey had shown up here, at her home, for no real reason she could discern. The very fact Lindsey knew where she lived was disturbing enough, but now she was implying there was some reason she should be worried about the story. All her training dictated she should be on alert, but her instincts also told her she would get more information by letting her guard down. She settled on diversion as a way to get the most out of this encounter. “Would you like to have a seat?”

“Sure. Lead the way.”

Dale led Lindsey the few steps from the kitchen to the living room where a plain tan couch and matching chair comprised the only real furniture in the place. Her television was mounted on the wall and two folding TV tables were the only other accessories in the room. She watched Lindsey’s eyes sweep the room, certain she was noting every detail of her ascetic lifestyle, and she tried not to care what Lindsey thought even as she felt the need to explain. “I have a lot of stuff in storage. Not sure how long I’m staying here.”

“I get it. I put all my stuff in storage and sublet my place when I went overseas. Now I’m home, but I don’t have a home.”

She got that Lindsey was only making small talk, but it wasn’t the same. Lindsey going to Afghanistan was a choice. When she’d left the home that had turned into a crime scene, it had been a necessity. The crime scene techs had spent several days after the shooting combing through every inch of the house and yard, looking for clues about Maria’s killers. Dale had spent those nights at Mary’s house. Mary was the only one she’d trusted to witness her breakdown that had occurred in spurts, in between answering questions about Maria’s enemies and planning her funeral.

Five days later, when the cops were done and Maria was buried, Dale had returned to the house and packed the bare minimum she would need to start her new life as a widow, devoted to her work and nothing else. Having visitors, especially ones as inquisitive and unsettling as Lindsey Ryan, had never figured into her planning, and she felt agitated. “Are you going to tell me why you’re really here or are we going to dance around the subject until you can no longer pretend you were just in the neighborhood?”

If Lindsey was put off by the abrupt question, she didn’t show it. She took her time with another long pull of her beer before saying, “I can’t tell if it’s me you don’t like or if it’s my occupation.”

“I don’t have a problem with reporters.” She didn’t. Even the ones who’d swarmed her when she’d left her house the day of Maria’s murder.

“So, it’s just me.”

It was just her, but Dale didn’t want to admit that it wasn’t about like or dislike. It was the way her body went on high alert every time Lindsey walked into the room. The way her heart raced and her mind pulsed. When she was with Lindsey, she felt like she was coming out of her skin. Even when Lindsey had been grilling her about how she’d handled the confrontation with the bounty hunter, she’d been electrified.

And that was it. Lindsey sparked something. Something she hadn’t felt since Maria died. Alive.

The questions she asked, the buttons she pushed—as antagonizing as Lindsey was, she penetrated the wall of disinterest that she’d hidden behind over the past year, and the realization was both enlightening and frightening at the same time. She stepped carefully around the pitfalls of Lindsey’s question, deflecting as best she could. “I work with reporters all the time. It’s part of the job. Tell me what you need and I’ll tell you anything I can.”

Lindsey finished her beer and set the bottle on the TV tray beside the couch. Earlier, she’d considered Elaina’s interference a favor, a way to draw a distinction between Dale, the liaison whose role constituted a gray area of conflict, and Dale, the subject who was clearly off limits, but now that the lines should be clear, they were anything but.

Coming here tonight had been a mistake. She leaned forward, balancing her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands together as she steeled herself for Dale’s reaction to what she was about to say. “So, here’s the deal. We’re tweaking things a bit and we’re going to make you the centerpiece of the story. Special Agent works hard to put away drug lords. Suffers the ultimate sacrifice.” She delivered the message clearly and concisely and waited for Dale’s reaction. She expected anger, but she was prepared for anything. Or so she thought.

“You’re kidding, right?” The crack of inflection in Dale’s voice signaled she was truly incredulous.

“No.”

“Not going to happen.”

“It’s a done deal. I got word from my producer tonight. She talked to your boss about it today.” She watched and waited for Dale to stand, hit something, yell, but she was met with stony silence. She waited it out for a few long minutes. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“No.”

“I guess it’s going to be a short interview.” Lindsey smiled to soften the mood, but Dale offered nothing in return. “Seriously, there’re no cameras rolling now. You can talk to me.”

Her plea was met with silence. She should give up. She’d been misreading signals from Dale since the moment they met, and now that Dale was the subject of her piece, she was acting like a child who wanted what she couldn’t have. She’d never had to beg for an interview before. Cajole, promise, but never beg, and she wouldn’t be reduced to begging now. She stood up, intending to leave, but Dale’s words stopped her before she could take a step.

“Don’t you already have everything you need?”

Dale’s voice held a slight edge of accusation, but there was something else there as well. Resignation, maybe? Lindsey sat back down. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“The first morning, when I picked you up at your hotel room. You’d already found out everything you could about me. My entire life was splashed across your computer screen.”

Damn. She thought she’d been so clever, hiding the evidence of her intrusion, but Dale had known all along that she’d been digging into her past. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Really? What did you expect me to say? Hey, did you hear about how my wife was gunned down on our front lawn while she was picking up the paper?” Dale sprang out of her seat and began pacing. “Maybe you’re so used to rummaging through the pain of other people’s lives, you’re immune to it, but…”