Edge of the Heat (Westwood Harbor Corruption) (9 page)

Craig was glad Emma was with him. They had met for their hiking date and hiked 2.5 miles before finding a young woman sitting with her mother on a log, crying. The young woman had broken her right ankle in a short fall down the side of the small mountain they were hiking on. Emma had splinted it with strips torn from Craig's shirt and some sticks and then Craig had carried her out of there. They had just put the ladies in their car and sent them off to the hospital.

As they watched the car drive off Craig looked at Emma and said "boy things are never dull with you around. I'll just have to call you Trouble."

Emma laughed. "
You're
trouble, not me."

"Hey, I think I owe yo
u dinner." Craig said. "Want to get cleaned up and go somewhere to eat?"

"I have a better idea. Why don't I cook for you? I have steak marinating in my fridge right now."

"You're on."

Now, in the lingering shadows of late afternoon, Craig was glad he had a
change of clothes in his truck. He followed Emma to her house, thinking of how amazing she was. Of course she was a paramedic, so she was trained for it, but her splint had looked like something out of a book. And it was completely improvised. He was seriously impressed with her. And he so liked to watch her work. Her laser focus and sweet bedside manner was admirable. She could have been a doctor. Ah, but he knew her type - she was smart as a whip but also an adrenaline junkie - inside was probably too boring for her. He
should
know her type, he was the same way.

Pulling into her driveway behind her, he noticed a blue sedan sitting a few houses down with someone in the driver's seat. He thought he remembered that same blocky sedan in that same spot with so
meone in the driver's seat the other night when he had picked her up and again when he had dropped her off. Maybe it was a neighbor.
A neighbor sitting inside their car for hours?

He met her at her door, and asked about the sedan. She didn't know. She thou
ght it must belong to a neighbor because it was there a lot.

"Is there usually somebody sitting inside it?"

"Um I don't know. I never noticed. This is a quiet street. There's no crime here"

Craig followed her inside and she set him up with a shower while s
he prepped the meat. He could not stop thinking about the sedan. Why would anyone watch Emma's house? It's possible he never would have given it a second thought if he hadn't heard the story about how Norman Foster scared away all her prior dates. Norman Foster was a serious jerk, and a dangerous jerk at that. Craig bet himself a dollar that if he walked down there he would find Norman Foster in that car.

When Emma took her shower she told him to just relax and have a beer. He opened a beer but left it on t
he counter without taking a drink, deciding to do some quick area recon.

Craig walked out the back door and scaled the fence behind her house, cutting through two neighbor's yards to come up behind the vehicle. He rounded the far block corner and walked on
the sidewalk right next to the car, watching inside. The man was not Norman. He was just sitting there looking down the road and smoking a cigarette. Craig let out a shaky sigh. He was very glad that Norman was not out here watching Emma's house. That would have been bad news for Emma.

He walked past the car and cut in front of it, looking both ways, noting both the pile of cigarette butts outside the driver's window, and the small curled antenna in front of the driver signifying this was probably a police
car. Damn! This might be bad news after all. He noted the license plate in an instant and looked back the other way. He walked past Emma's house, turned left at the next block, and scaled backyard fences again to get back to Emma's.

He entered the sliding
door and found Emma, her back to him, in the kitchen smelling like vanilla and strawberries. She was wearing a simple black tank top and red yoga pants that hugged every curve she had. He wanted to walk over to her and put his arms around her waist and drink her like a smoothie. He hadn't been this attracted to a woman in a long time. Sure, tons of women could turn his head and get him to imagine taking them in the sack, but Emma was different. She was fun, she was smart, she was a hard worker, she was someone that he could happily hang out with and talk to after the sex was over. Sex. He needed to not start thinking about that. It was hard enough walking away last night without initiating anything. And today he was in the house. Problem was, she gave off mixed signals. He could tell she wanted him too, but her body and her eyes also said stay away sometimes too. She'd been hurt too badly in the past.

Emma was saying something. Craig mentally shook his head and focused on her.

"There you are. Are you any good with a grill?" she asked.

"I am a grill master, first class."

Emma laughed, "Ok get mine fired up on the back patio. I have some meat for you to cook and I'm making some salad."

***

Craig couldn't remember when he'd had a finer meal or a better night. Steak, salad, beer, and pleasant flirting conversation with a lovely woman as dusk turned to dark.

Emma interrupted their discussion about why she preferred paramedic work over firefighter work to use the bathroom, giving Craig some alone time to think about
what the cop on the street meant. Maybe it meant nothing, and another house on this street was being watched. Or maybe it meant something as bad as Craig was afraid it did. He really liked Emma, and hated the thought of a crooked cop watching her and ruining her dates for 7 years. He didn't even want to think about what it probably meant. But he was thinking about it. Every thought boiled his blood.  Obviously Norman didn't think their relationship was over. Maybe Norman needed a little visit.

He was glad
they were out on the back porch - the guy in the cop car couldn't see them, and unless the porch was bugged no one could hear them either.

Bugged! Damn!

He wondered if perhaps her house
was
bugged. If someone

(
Norman
)

was watching her, why not listen to
her too?

Emma slipped quietly through the open back door. When she saw Craig, her eyebrows drew together worriedly. He wiped his thoughts and smiled with effort. He'd heard from other women

(Lucy)

that negative thoughts in his head transformed his looks f
rom clean-cut to mean and dangerous in seconds. He didn't want Emma to see him that way.

Her face cleared. She walked to the couch and sat down, a little closer to him than she had been, curling her legs under her like a cat.

"Emma, I wanted to ask you something. Do you think there's any chance that Norman could be watching you?"

She looked startled at this sudden turn of conversation.

"What? Why? You think he is in that car down the street?"

"No, I don't, but he could be. Did you ever wonder how he alway
s knew you were dating?"

"Well yeah, but I just figured that because he's a cop he hears a lot of things. He probably put the word out that he wanted to hear stuff about me and the other cops told him stuff."

She had a point, it certainly could have been as easy as that. But Craig wasn't convinced.

"Would you mind if I looked for bugs in your house?"

She looked confused.

"Electronic bugs - listening devices - I want to see if he's planted any in your house. He probably hasn't, but I sure would like to know
for sure."

Understanding, and horror crept over her face in equal measure.

"Yes, please do," she whispered.

Craig pulled her to him. He hoped he didn't find anything. This woman was too sweet to have to live with the implications of what bugs would mean.
He caressed her long hair, hoping to calm and soothe her, but instead found himself fanning flames of desire he had been trying to keep under control. His body stiffened, and he pulled back a bit, hoping not to give Emma physical evidence of his desire. She wouldn't be interested in this right now. It wasn't appropriate. He chided himself relentlessly and turned his mind to desire-withering things: football, Norman Foster, doddering old men with big ears and noses. The images were swiftly pushed aside by the clean, feminine scent of Emma, and the feel of her silky hair in his hands, and her soft body pressed against his. He had to break this contact.

Craig gave her a soft kiss on her forehead and stood up, swiftly crossing the porch to the door. "I'll be rig
ht back," he said over his shoulder.

He went to his truck to retrieve his RF detector, peeking at the sedan down the street when it seemed safe. A faint glow, possibly from a cigarette, lit up the inside. He gave the RF a once-over to make sure it didn't s
ay FBI on it, and then he took it in the house.

Emma was watching him from the front door. She opened her mouth, probably to ask what he was doing with a bug detector in his car, but he held a finger to his lips.

He didn't just want to head off that question though, he also didn't want anyone who might be listening to know they were going to look for bugs. If the bugs were turned off, they couldn't be found. He turned on the RF detector, but kept the sound very low. Starting in a clockwise pattern, he swept the room. Near the far wall, the lights on the detector started flashing. The faint tick-tick-tick sound could barely be heard, but he didn't need it.

I knew it! That bastard!
Craig's blood pressure climbed and his jaw tightened. If he ever got his hands on Norman Foster there was going to be hell to pay.

He felt behind the large picture of a waterfall on the wall. His fingers found the bug behind the lower left corner. He held it up and turned around so Emma could see it.

Her eyes were wide and her hands were over her mouth. The blood drained from her face.

Craig put the bug down gently on a pillow on the couch and kept sweeping. In the kitchen he found another small bug, and in the bathroom, one more.  None were on the porch.

He headed into the bedroom with Emma following behind. Her mouth was a grim line, but she hadn't made a sound during the search. He intended to be very thorough in here.

He found the bug he knew he would find behind the picture over the bed. He kept sweeping though, just in case. A
s he got closer to the smoke detector over the door, the RF detector started sounding again. His heart sank.
That monster
. He pulled the smoke detector down from the wall and gently took it apart. What he was looking for was behind the grate designed to let smoke in. He pocketed it and pulled Emma out to the hallway.

He gathered all the bugs and dropped them in a glass of water on the kitchen counter, then he pulled Emma out on the porch.

"See this?" he said, showing her the device in his pocket, but keeping his thumb over the lens.

She nodded yes.

"It's a hidden camera."

Emma's lip twisted into a snarl. "That bastard!" she choked out through gritted teeth.

Craig had already thought that exact thought several times, and he was glad Emma knew the stakes right away. He inspected the camera for any identifying marks. Finding none, he dropped it to the deck and ground it under his heel.

Emma turned on her heel and ran through the house. Craig followed, worried. She ran straight out the front door towards the blu
e sedan. It was no longer parked on the street. Emma whirled around, fists clenched, eyes wild and searching.

"He's gone! He knows we were on to him!"

"Could be, or could be the man in that car just was done for the night."

"Norman, I know it was Norman!"

"It didn't look like Norman to me, Emma. Could he be having anyone else watch you?"

"Of course he could! He's got a whole department to command!"

Craig slipped an arm around Emma's shoulders. Her breathing was rapid. Craig purposely took long, deep breaths, hoping to calm her. He felt her relax against him and take her own deep breaths.

"But would they do it? I can't imagine most cops being willing to watch an ex-wife's house for hours a day, even if it is for an of
ficer in their chain of command," Craig wondered.

"True," Emma said. "I just don't know! And I don't know why he is watching me anyway!" She tore loose from his grip and took long strides down the sidewalk, away from her house.

Craig caught up, and grasped her hand, walking with her. "Could he want to get back together with you?"

Emma looked horrified at the idea. "No!" She went silent for a few moments, thinking. "I don't think so. He's never said anything."

"But he could - maybe he wants to get back together with you someday, but not now. That would also explain why he has chased off all your past dates."

Emma's face fell. "I don't want to believe it. For him to still want to get back together with me 7 years later scares me."