Ah. The motto on his police vehicle. He did love that Jeep. “I guess so.” He scouted the quiet street and then gestured toward her bungalow. “You’re safe tonight. Go on in and get some sleep.” Her scent of mystery and unidentifiable flowers was going to drive him crazy, so he used his best official voice. The one most younger police officers jumped to obey.
The woman didn’t so much as twitch. “I can’t talk you into leaving?”
“No.” It wasn’t like he slept much these days, anyway.
“Then why don’t you come inside, have some apple pie, and sleep on my sofa?” She clasped her hands together, looking like an innocent angel from times gone by.
Oh, he knew he had a thing for petite and fragile looking women, but this one had a strength to her that just plain and simply intrigued him. He needed to figure her out. But staying inside her house was a huge mistake, and he wouldn’t make it. His radio buzzed before he could answer her.
“Evan? We have a nine-sixteen at 2827 East Beverly Street,” Mabel said. “Again.”
Damn it. He reached for the radio. “I’m en route.” Then he nodded to Tabi. “Go inside and lock your doors. I have to go.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “What’s a nine-sixteen?”
He slid back into his seat. “It’s a domestic violence call.” He’d already been to the Baker house twice that month. Why the young bride wouldn’t leave her husband, he didn’t know. Maybe this time he could talk some sense into her.
Tabi frowned. “You’re a detective. Shouldn’t that call have gone to an officer?”
He nodded. “Yeah, but our two officers would’ve been called off by the sheriff. I won’t be.”
“Do you need help?”
He jolted. “No.” Like the petite blonde could help him. “Just keep yourself safe tonight. I’ll do a drive by later, but here’s my cell number if you need help.” He tugged a card out of his unused ashtray. “I mean it, Tabi. If you need help, call me.”
She took the card, her expression bemused. “All right. Be careful.” Then she turned and jogged back inside her house.
He sighed and started the engine, driving down the street.
“You know, you got a real hero complex, O’Connell,” Mabel crackled through the radio. “What’s the deal there?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m just doing my job.”
“Uh huh,” she said. “Be careful at the Bakers’ house. That moron is probably drunk again.”
“Good,” Evan said grimly. “Then I can arrest him this time.” Although, considering the idiot was the sheriff’s youngest son, the asshole wouldn’t stay in jail long. “We’ve got to clean up this town, Mabel.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” she cackled, signing off.
Yeah. He’d think of something.
Chapter 3
Evan’s eyes were scratchy and his left leg weak when he strode into the room used for the anger management class. After arresting Baker the night before, he’d parked down the street from Tabi’s house to keep watch, and once daylight had arrived, he’d spent a shitty day at the office, avoiding the sheriff since he’d arrested the asshole’s kid the night before.
The smell of coffee wafted his way, and he turned to make an instant beeline for the table set up beneath the wide window, considering he’d missed dinner.
Dr. Lopez looked up from sitting on a metal chair at the edge of a circle of vacant metal chairs. “Hi, Detective. We have donuts and fresh cookies this fine evening.” The shrink had dressed in dark jeans and a silky-looking pink shirt with her dark hair in a bob around her pretty face. Her forehead wrinkled. “It’s so nice, but I can’t figure out why the leader of the gambling anonymous meetings keeps bringing us food. He only stole our room once.”
Evan shrugged and reached for a peanut butter cookie. “Maybe he feels guilty. Who knows?” The guy had done a complete turnaround, and if Evan didn’t know better, he’d think one of Lopez’s group members had had a little discussion with him. But nothing had been reported, and he had enough to worry about.
She smiled, her brown eyes sparkling. “I’ve gotten used to you attending the meetings. Isn’t it time you sat and actually participated?”
He paused with the treat halfway to his mouth. “I’m not here as a participant.”
She tapped her tennis shoe on the old wooden floor. “You might as well be, don’t you think? I can tell that something is bothering you besides wanting to help Abby Miller, which I believe you already have. Why don’t you participate?”
“Thanks, but no.” If he was angry, it was because he was dying, and he didn’t really need to share that fact with anybody. Abby Miller had been falsely accused of battery by her dirtbag ex, and the best deal Evan could get for her was probation so long as she attended these meetings. Of course, the ex was now dead. Thank goodness Abby had an airtight alibi for the murder.
