Don't Call Me Hero (25 page)

Her lip curled up. “It’s just a story from my childhood, Detective. It’s no great secret.”

“We’re naked in bed together, Julia,” I deadpanned. “I think you can drop the formalities.”

A playful grin appeared on her beautiful mouth, and it warmed me like a beam of sunshine. “You say that as if I could forget you’re naked.”

The mattress dipped beneath me as she moved, and her fingers tugged on a sensitive nipple. I reflexively slapped her hands away, causing her eyes to narrow. This was a woman who did not like to be denied what she wanted, and it made my heart pound a little heavier to know that, at least in this moment, it was me that she wanted.

+ + +

I woke up in an empty bed. I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow. I shut my eyes and breathed in. I thought it smelled like Julia’s perfume, but I was probably imagining it.

“For a cop, your taste in coffee is appalling.”

My head jerked up when I heard her voice. I thought she’d left before I’d woken up.

I turned my head as far as it could go. The end of the mattress sank as Julia sat down with a cup of coffee in her hands.

“It’s probably appalling
because
I’m a cop,” I retorted. “You should drink the mud they tried to pass as coffee in the military.”

Her hair was slightly mussed from sleep and her naturally beautiful face was makeup-free. My T-shirt was gone, folded carefully on the chair I called my living room; she’d changed back into her clothes from the previous day. The cream-colored blouse was slightly wrinkled, but her walk of shame would be far classier than anyone else’s. She always looked so polished in her immaculately tailored suits, but I think I liked her best like this, visibly disheveled, but only just so.

She passed me her mug, and I sat up in bed to take a sip. I inhaled and let the rich scent warm me.

“You should go back to sleep. You’ve barely had the equivalent of a nap.”

I hadn’t had any nightmares. Maybe that was the secret—long, sporadic naps. Or maybe it had more to do with the woman who had slept beside me.

“I want to make you breakfast.”

“Your refrigerator is practically empty, dear.”

“I know. But what about breakfast at Stan’s? I’m sure he could make you an egg-white omelet if you’re worried about calories.”

“I should really be going. I have to go home and shower.”

“I’ve got a shower. Hot water and everything.”

She smiled mildly. “I’m sure you do. But I certainly can’t go into work in the clothes I wore yesterday.”

“You really think anyone would notice?”

“
I
would notice, Miss Miller. And when I’m in a meeting with the District Attorney later today, I’d like to feel at my best, not like I just stumbled out of your bed.”

I held up my hands. “Okay, you win. You present a very persuasive argument, Madam Prosecutor.”

She leaned forward and I did the same until our lips met. I swabbed my tongue against her lower lip, but she sighed and pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” I covered my mouth with one hand. “Do I have morning breath?”

She stood up and tugged at the bottom hemline of her knee-length skirt to straighten the lines of the garment. “No. But you’re quickly becoming an indulgence, Miss Miller. And I don’t know how to feel about that.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“I brought donuts.”

A collective cheer erupted between Lori and David when I walked into the police department later that day. Chief Hart’s office door was closed, so I suspected he was either in a meeting or was out on a complaint.

I set the pink cardboard box down on an open desk, and David attacked the container like a scavenger after roadkill.

“Free donuts. What’s the special occasion?” he asked around a mouthful of pastry. “Did you get laid last night?”

“It was just dinner,” I blushed.

He sat on the edge of the desk and folded his arms across his bullet-protected chest. “Is there any funny business going on between you and the city prosecutor that I should know about?” he smirked. “Don’t get shy on me, Miller.”

My eyes fell to the floor. “We’re working on a grant together.” That part wasn’t a lie. “She’s helping get some free equipment for the department.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“It’s for a portable fingerprint reader,” I said. “Like if we pull someone over who doesn’t have their ID, we can scan their prints to verify they’re the person they say they are and check it against any outstanding warrants.”

“Awesome,” he grinned. “You wouldn’t believe how many townies don’t carry their licenses on them. I’d write them all tickets, but I’ve probably get sued again.”

“And I’m sure Julia would love you for that,” I laughed.

David wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “When you put it like that, maybe it would be worth it.”

My nostrils flared. “Uh huh.”

“Mind if I take a look?” He licked the sugar from a bear claw off of his fingers.

I handed David the unfinished grant application and continued to silently stew. It wasn’t fair. I wanted to announce on the local radio station that Julia Desjardin was spoken for. But I’d be facing her wrath if I ever did that, and I had no idea how receptive the people of Embarrass would be.

David made a noise.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just …” His forehead scrunched in thought. “Julia said these fingerprint scanners were free?”

“Yeah. Cool, right? It’s part of some Homeland Security communications program—non-disaster preparedness stuff.”

His lips silently moved as he continued to read.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

The concern remained cemented to his face. “I don’t know. I could be totally wrong, but this looks like the same grant application we used to get those police radios from the OEC.”

“It shouldn’t be. The radios weren’t free,” I reminded him. “That was a fifty/fifty match program.”

“Was it?” David looked up from the paperwork and caught my gaze. “We were
told
it was a match program, but did you actually look at the original grant application?”

My eyebrows crunched together and I bit my lower lip. “Only to see which other agencies participated so I could confirm they got their radios.”

“Do you still have a copy of that application?”

I nodded. “Back at my apartment with all the other paperwork from that case.” I hadn’t gotten around to shredding or recycling any of the files after the investigation had reached a dead end. It was another one of those depressing chores like grocery shopping that I had been avoiding.

“Are you busy right now? Can we go look?” David’s face had taken on an eager, almost manic look. “This could be huge.”

“Yeah, sure,” I shrugged. “Just don’t mind the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink. I’m not a very good housekeeper.”

David arched an eyebrow at me. “I’m a dude who lives alone. I think I can handle a little clutter.”

I unlocked the front door of my apartment and did a quick visual scan to make sure there was nothing embarrassing or incriminating out in the open before I opened the door wider to let David in. I picked up a wet towel from the floor and flung it over the back of a chair.

“I thought chicks were supposed to be neat freaks,” David remarked.

“You’ve clearly never lived with a girl,” I shot back.

To be fair, I wasn’t a total slob, but my bed was unmade and the remnants of dinner with Julia were still visible in the kitchen area. I might not have religiously vacuumed, but I did have a habit for keeping meticulous files. I had stored the paperwork from our joint investigation in one of my empty moving boxes. There was a neat stack of boxes, some still with packed-up belongings, near the foot of the bed. I crouched down and separated the box labeled “Summer Stuff” from the rest of my things.

I removed the top from the box and sifted through the folders to find the file for the radio information. I thumbed over the documents, but the longer I searched, the deeper the crease between my eyes became. “Where is it?” I mumbled.

My murmuring drew David’s attention. “What’s up?”

“I can’t find it.” I sat on the floor and began looking inside each individual file folder. Maybe I’d accidentally put the police radio grant application inside of another file. “It should be in this box.”

David’s duty belt creaked as he crouched beside me to peer into the box. “Here, let me have a look.”

“I’m not overlooking it,” I snapped. “It should be in here, but it’s not.”

“Did you bring it to the office? Maybe you left it on a desk?”

I shook my head. “No. I always remembered to put it back. And I haven’t had to look at the radio file since I went to Babbitt.”

“Is that the last time you saw it?”

“I’m not a little kid who misplaced her backpack, David.” My irritation continued to build. Why couldn’t I find it?

David held up his hands in retreat. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help.”

I ran my fingers roughly through my hair. “I know,” I grunted.

“Who else knows about these files? Who’s been in your apartment that might have seen this box?”

“You, my friend Rich, Grace Kelly.” I ticked off the few names. “Julia.” I shot him a warning look. “And don’t even think it. Julia didn’t touch these files.”

“Can you be sure?”

“It’s not her, so drop it.”

“Do you have a crush on the city prosecutor, Miller?”

“No.” Yes. Obviously. But I wasn’t letting that color my judgment.

“Okay, okay,” he conceded. “I won’t keep trying to implicate her. It’s not really a big deal anyway. I can go over to the City Clerk’s office and get another copy of the grant. They keep the originals on file.”

We returned to City Hall with renewed energy. I knew we should both be exhausted: I hadn’t slept much that week and David was working his normal shift after taking my night hours. David took a detour into the City Clerk’s office on the first floor while I descended the stairs to the police station to wait.

A few minutes later, David returned to the basement looking wounded. “I think I’m getting rusty. The ladies in the City Clerk’s office wouldn’t let me see the file. They told me to get a warrant.”

“That’s weird. You didn’t have any problems getting copies of those files before, right?”

David winced. “Yeah, but last time I might have suggested I’d buy the Assistant City Clerk dinner if she got me those files.”

“Let me guess—you didn’t follow up with her and now she’s pissed.”

His sheepish grin was my answer.

I pushed out a deep breath. “Okay, so that resource is no longer reliable, what else?”

“We could see if the Office of Emergency Communications has record of the original application?” David proposed.

“That’s smart. Do you want to call or should I?”

“If a dude answers, I’ll give you the phone,” he said. “If it’s a chick, then I’ll do the talking.”

I pulled up the appropriate number on the computer screen. Referencing it one more time, I dialed the number. “You really like using sexual persuasion to get what you want, don’t you?” The phone began to ring, and I handed him the receiver.

“It’s served me well so far,” he noted with a grim grin.

“What if a girl answers, but she’s gay?” I pragmatically pointed out. “Your wile charms aren’t going to work then.”

“I’ll just try to make myself sound really butch.”

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. “Charming.”

David switched over to what I’d describe as his Cop Voice when someone answered the phone. It was deeper and more authoritative. “Uh, yes. This is Sergeant David Addams of the Embarrass Police Department in Embarrass, Minnesota. I’m calling in regards to a grant we received a few months ago for the purchase of new police radios. I’m curious about the nature of the grant.”

His call was redirected a few times until we’d been transferred to the appropriate office. Each time he repeated his story and questions.