The Good Daughter (8 page)

He was still pondering what to say when he found her car.

She reached for her purse and grasped the door handle. He reached past her and jammed down the lock.

“If you try to stop me from leaving, Detective, I’ll be forced to report you.” Beneath her brave words, her voice quivered with nerves.

“You can do that,” he admitted. “But I don’t imagine you want to be revealing where you were this evening.”

If anything, her frame stiffened more.

Vince dropped his head for a second and struggled to contain the temper that had always been his Waterloo. “Look, Chloe—”

“I don’t think first names are appropriate.”

“You really don’t want to be called a pampered princess, I suggest you take that snotty tone out of your voice.”

Her head whipped around and he saw not icy control but blazing fury.

And the glistening sheen of tears held back by the barest margin.

It leached the anger right out of him. “I’m sorry, Doc.” He exhaled loudly. “My damn temper will be the death of me. And my big mouth.” He held her gaze, willing her to listen. “Look, I had a great time with you back there.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “You’re my client. We can’t do this.”

Then cut me loose,
he wanted to say.
I’ve got to get back to work.
But he reined in his disastrous way with words. “How much longer do I need to be your client? You don’t really believe I have a death wish, do you? Sarge worries too much.”

He thought he saw a trace of amusement before she turned her head away and discreetly wiped at her eyes. “No,” she admitted. Then her gaze met his. “But
I do think that there’s a lot more going on than you’re admitting. We should discuss that.”

Vince wanted to groan. Wanted to howl. “The bad guys don’t stop working just because I’m on leave, Chloe.”

“I know.” Her voice was whisper quiet. “Call Wanda in the morning and work out a time, even if I have to stay late.”

His head whipped around and he stared at her. “You’re going to cut me loose.”

Sorrow and wisdom and rue swirled in her gaze. “Maybe. But first we have to talk.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She held the cards. “Tomorrow, then.”

She grasped the handle. “Good night, Detective.” With a whisk of hosiery across the seat cushions, she was gone.

“Good night, Doc.” Despite the urge to burn rubber on the concrete, he forced himself to drive away slowly. He would prove to her that he was fit for duty if it killed him.

And it very well might.

F
OR THE FIRST TIME
she could ever remember, Chloe didn’t want to go home. Didn’t want to be alone. Maybe she would go back to her office. Catch up on paperwork.

Doc, I need back on duty.

None of it had been real; that was what hurt. Not the laughter or the teasing. Not the way he stood so
close to her, nearly touching…the heat of his big strong body…

I had a great time.

For most of the evening, those words had appeared to be true. He’d shed the tension that hadn’t left his frame since that first night at the crime scene. The intensity that was his trademark had been banked; for long moments, he’d seemed younger, more carefree, the way he might have been had life granted him a normal childhood. He was a fierce competitor, yes, and she appreciated it that he hadn’t let her win. She’d had to battle for every point.

He even fought dirty. Chloe smiled. No one in her perfect, ordered life had ever done that to her.

At the memory of his hand lifting one lock of her hair from her neck…the feel of his breath upon her nape and how shockingly much she’d wanted him to press his lips just there—

Headlights entered the parking lot. Footsteps sounded, coming up the stairwell.

Chloe shook her head. None of that mattered. She had no reason to feel hurt. Vince Coronado was simply acting in his own self-interest, trying whatever methods would allow him to get back to the work at which he was so good. If he didn’t care so much about being a cop, he wouldn’t be so effective.

She was the one who’d studied the human psyche in such detail; none of what had happened should be a surprise.

Turning the key in the ignition, Chloe reminded herself that she had a job to do, and that was all that was
important. She’d gambled that she could make inroads on understanding Vince by accompanying him into his world.

She wasn’t a gambler by nature, and this only reminded her of why.

If you didn’t risk, you didn’t lose. She left the parking lot and headed home to resume her normal routine. To bed at a sensible hour so she’d be fresh for the next day’s demands.

Even though one of them would be seeing Vince Coronado again.

V
INCE ENTERED
the Crystal Pistol, loud country music and cigarette smoke assaulting his senses. The cavernous interior would be tough to search if Mike didn’t insist on claiming his own particular table every time. Vince veered to the right side of the room, spotting Mike’s blond head easily.

The redhead on his friend’s lap made it even simpler.

Vince watched as Mike pulled her head down for a long kiss, and wondered how many other women he’d charmed in the dark corners of this place. Dark corners, hell—Mike seduced them on the dance floor, at the bar, probably in the parking lot, too. A fair number he took home. Vince had had his share of women, but he preferred them one at a time. Mike went for quantity; he loved women easily, at the drop of a hat, the wink of an eye.

The redhead pulled back from Mike slowly, her ex
pression dazed. Her squirming glance at Vince grabbed his buddy’s attention, and Mike turned.

“Hey, man, decided to have a little fun for a change?” Mike’s easy grin showed no embarrassment. The redhead tried to stand up, but Mike held her still with one arm across her thighs. “Come on, take a load off. Let’s get you a beer.”

His head already pounding from the noise, Vince shook his head. “Can I talk to you outside?”

Mike’s gaze grew immediately serious. He spoke to the redhead. “Will you excuse me for a minute, Joanie darlin’?”

“Jo Nell,” she corrected.

“Ah, but sugar, you look just like that cute Joanie from
Happy Days.
”

She pouted prettily. “Joanie had dark hair.”

“I mean those dimples of yours, sweet darlin’.” He set her on her feet and stood. “And these luscious lips.” Leaning down, he planted one more slow kiss. “You won’t let any ol’ shitkicker wander off with you while I’m gone, will you?”

Shoulders moving in a coquette’s shrug, she showed some mettle. “Maybe…if you take too much time.”

“Oh, my buddy here knows how to get to the point, don’t you, Vince?”

Her gaze moved to him. Vince nodded. “I won’t keep him long, Jo Nell.”

Her smile revealed the deep dimples. “Thanks, Vince. Then you two come back—I’ve got a friend.”

Mike slung an arm around Vince’s neck. “Oh, sugar,
that’s the pity of it. Vince here suffered a war wound, and he can’t—”

Vince’s elbow connected with Mike’s midsection, and air expelled in a sharp gust. “Maybe another time, Jo Nell. But thank you.”

Eyes soft with sympathy, the redhead smiled. “It didn’t affect your dancing, did it, Vince?” Mike guffawed.

“Go to hell, Mike,” Vince muttered, stifling the urge to laugh himself. “My dancing’s all right, thank goodness,” he answered Jo Nell. “If you’ll excuse us…” He all but dragged Mike to the door. Outside, the music still carried, but at least he could hear.

“What’s up, buddy?” Mike wiped tears of amusement from his eyes.

Vince shot him a glare. “Real funny, man. She’s too sweet for you.”

“Yeah, but she hasn’t figured it out yet.” Mike sobered. “How are you?”

“More than ready to get back in the hunt.”

“So what’s the word? Doc signed off on you yet?”

Vince uttered one quick curse. “No.”

“Don’t tell me, you’re being your usual sunny self.”

“Bite me,” Vince replied. “But that’s not why I came.”

Mike merely nodded for him to continue.

“I’ve got a new snitch, but he’s nervous about his girlfriend and son taking heat if things go south. I told him I’d take care of them, but he’s worried about what if something happens to me.”

“What could happen—” Mike stopped in midsentence.
“He’s heard about your threats to Moreno. But that was months ago.”

Vince hesitated. He wasn’t prepared to saddle Mike with the knowledge that he was still actively working to build a case against Moreno. If things went bad, he didn’t want Mike taking any heat for being his friend. He shrugged. “He worries too much—not the hero type. He’ll be a good source on the Eastsiders if I can get him to loosen up, but I had to promise him that someone else would help if there came a time when I couldn’t.”

“Sure, man, whatever,” Mike said. “What’s his name?”

“Tino Garza.”

“Got it.” Mike paused. “Any news on your other informant, the one who turned around on you?”

Vince grimaced. “Not yet.”

“You know I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Yeah. I do.” Vince clapped him on the shoulder and forced a grin. “Get on back in there with that little honey.”

“You sure?” Mike’s forehead wrinkled. “We could go grab a beer or something.”

“Nah, been a long day. I’m headed for the sack.”

“Okay, man. Call me if you need me.”

“I will. You still owe me for that war-wound remark.”

Laughing, Mike waved goodbye over his shoulder.

S
TARING OUT
into the darkness, heat still rising off ground baked to a crisp, Vince rolled the brown beer bottle across his forehead, beads of cool moisture
transferring to his skin. Stripped to shorts and sandals, he’d cleaned the last paper off the kitchen walls, hoping that physical labor would help as it had in the past, letting his mind sift through details to come up with an answer.

But nothing was clearer. He’d spent hours chasing down snitches, searching through bits and pieces of garbage, trying to find one piece of solid information. Junkies and hookers were the most unreliable people on earth. He’d learned long ago that out of the information he gathered, he’d have to winnow through bushels of chaff to get to one useful grain.

Only chaff today. No one seemed to know what had happened to Gloria. She’d apparently vanished as though she’d never existed.

His gate creaked, and Vince tensed. His off-duty weapon was in the house. He peered through the darkness.

“Vince? Are you out here? I knocked on the front door, but I guess—” Sally announced herself before she rounded the porch. She knew better than to sneak up on a fellow cop, especially one who operated undercover.

He leaned back on the porch rail. “Yeah, I’m here. Come have a seat.” He could use some distraction from his thoughts.

Light from the kitchen window spilled across her form. She wore shorts and a tank top, her dark hair still braided. What he could see of her eyes looked pretty serious.

“Want a beer?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “But I can get it.” She moved
past him, the screen door shutting softly behind her. One of these days he’d install central heat and air, but for now, window units bore the brunt of the duty. He’d left them off while working, not wanting to feel closed in by his house tonight.

Sally settled on the step just below him and to his right. He studied the long braid bisecting her back, remembering a cascading, dark waterfall, and mentally kicked himself for nearly ruining a friendship.

“Just get off duty?” He kept his voice light.

Sally nodded, then took a long swallow.

“Tough night?” The tension in her frame already said yes.

She shrugged. “It’s over.”

Fur brushed past his leg and slipped next to her. Sally jerked in surprise, then reached out to pet the animal. Her head swiveled, eyebrows lifted. “A cat, Vince?”

He took a sip. “He’s not staying.”

She felt the cat’s round belly, grinning. “You sure he knows that?”

“We’ve had discussions.”

Sally laughed, and Vince found himself suddenly glad for the company. A loner by nature, to his ex-wife’s dismay, he hadn’t realized until now just how much he’d miss the job.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face.

“Are you going crazy, being on leave?”

She’d opened the subject; now was the ideal time to ask for her help, yet Vince was reluctant to involve her. His gut told him he was in trouble this time, though,
maybe more than he could escape on his own. “I’m working on the house.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t like sitting around, waiting for Newcombe to hand me my head on a platter.”

“I never assumed you were idle.” She turned toward him, and her eyes were warm and soft. “I told you I wanted to help, Vince. What can I do?”

Here was his chance, yet guilt over their past involvement kept him quiet. He could have screwed up her career back then with his poor judgment. The kid deserved better.

“Come on, hard case. I’ve already got my ears open, hoping to pick up something around headquarters.”

“Sal, I—” He stopped.

“Look, Vince, every day I use skills you taught me, ways you showed me to be the best, when other guys just sat around, hoping I’d wash out. I—” She placed one hand on his thigh and squeezed. “All you have to do is ask.” Her fingers spread across his skin. “Even if it’s just comfort for the night.”

If those fingers had been another set, slim, pale and elegant… Disturbed that he’d carried the thought of Chloe that far, he shoved it away ruthlessly.

He grasped her hand and removed it gently. “Sunshine, you deserve better than providing comfort to someone who—”
Can’t love you,
he started to say.

Her hand tightened around her beer bottle. He thought for a moment he saw a flash of anger. Good. She
did
deserve better, and if it took getting mad at him to drive her away, well, that was the price he paid. “You’re a
hell of a woman and a damn fine cop. Don’t settle for someone like me.”

Staring out into the darkness, Sally didn’t answer.