Kennett mumbled to himself, then folded his hands on the table. “Let me give it a try. First, as Evans and JB already know, I worked undercover up in Illinois before I moved here. At one point I was assigned to an auto dealership because we’d tracked the runners to their lot.” He paused, walked over and poured himself more coffee, before taking his seat again. “I think Cain’s trying to say we might be able to use Peyton’s to set a trap.”
The tension in JB’s face eased as he glanced at Cain, then turned his attention to Kennett. “Is that where?—”
“Yeah.” Swallowing hard with his coffee, Kennett’s hand had a slight tremble as he set his cup down.
“The same place the report talked about in Illinois?” Cain asked.
“Yeah.” The patrolman straightened his collar, then stared at the wall. He intertwined his fingers in front of him, clenching them so tight they appeared to lose all blood flow.
Cain prided himself on reading people and situations. The idea that dynamics could turn on a dime or a word made sense in the world of law enforcement. This conversation was filled with enough innuendos and loopholes to sink a boat. “That went down hard, if I remember correctly. Weren’t there some hostages taken at one point?”
“Yeah. The whole assignment crashed and burned. Before it was over, there were three dead.”
“You closed down a drug lieutenant as I recall. At least that was something.” Cain realized Evans and JB were looking down, studying the papers in front of them as if their lives depended on it. “How long ago was that?”
Kennett rubbed his thumb across the empty ring finger on his left hand. “Two years. Five months. One week. And six days.”
In that moment, Cain wished he hadn’t asked, because something told him Kennett could have even given a count up to the exact minute. Anyone who worked law enforcement was still a person, and sooner or later there would be an assignment that grabbed your gut and didn’t let go.
He could tell Kennett had a story. Cain had stories, too. Some he never shared. Others turned his memories to scalding thoughts that never burned out.
JB smoothed the papers in front of him as if pressing wrinkles on a shirt, except there were no wrinkles. “We’ll keep this open as an option, but let’s see what else we’ve got on the table.”
By the end of the next hour, the men came to a consensus that the Peyton’s Automotives idea was the best plan. Even Sheriff Davis had agreed when they talked to him by speaker phone. None of them were all that happy with going the Peyton’s route, but figured they’d be able to protect the lot with surveillance after hours.
Cain hadn’t shared his contact with Shadow with anyone but JB. Even then, he hadn’t mentioned his contact’s name or any other info. Not even the exact specifics on Betsy. In fact, there really weren’t many specifics to share.
“Before we go any further, we need to ask Betsy if she’ll even consider the stakeout,” JB said. “I’ll arrange a meeting for this afternoon with Betsy at Peyton’s. Evans, you don’t have to do the asking, but I’d like you to be there to discuss police protection for the dealership.”
The deputy nodded.
JB turned his attention toward Cain. “Since your DEA boss gave permission on you consulting with the Crayton Police Department, can you be there at three o’clock?”
“Me? I don’t know about that.” Cain had hoped not to be involved with the actual stakeout. Making calls had been one thing, but being part of the setup was totally different. “I’ve given you everything you need to carry out the job. Besides, I don’t think Betsy would take kindly to me being in on an official meeting about her business.”
JB braced his hands on his desk and leaned forward, glaring at Cain. “Oh, get over it. What the hell? She turned you down. Now suck it up and get on board with the plan. Or did you lose your nerve?”
Cain shot to his feet. “You better watch where you’re leaning, man. ’Cause I’m not your lap dog.” He walked to the door, had his hand on the knob. “We’re done talking.”
“Fine. I thought you were volunteering when you said there needed to be eyes on Betsy and the dealership during the work hours.” JB straightened, sarcasm lacing his tone. “Guess I was wrong.”
Cain slammed the door open. Stopped in the doorway. He and JB had sparred all their life. One jab after the other—football, girls, words, actions, fists. He felt the roll of his fingers inward, but he didn’t tighten them. They were both grown men, each fighting to get what they wanted out of the situation. Of course, the only way JB got what he needed was if Cain agreed to work at Peyton’s.
He blew out a cheek-puffing breath, then turned and walked back into the office.
“You know, you and me are this close to going a few rounds at the gym.” Cain held up his thumb and index finger less than an inch apart.
“Any time.” JB clenched his jaw and stared his stare. “Cut to the chase, what’s it gonna be? You in on this all the way?”
A million reasons to ignore the taunt rushed through Cain’s mind. Not one of them could replace the image of Betsy’s smile when she thought she’d won the pool game. The way she’d kissed his cheek. Even if she didn’t want to be with him, he still couldn’t bring himself to desert her in what could be a dangerous situation.
“Might as well. I’ve already been working on my truck there. I’ll keep an eye on Betsy. And I’ll make sure none of the customers as much as stub their toe. The rest of this play is on the police.” Cain walked out the door of the office already knowing that his last statement wouldn’t hold water. He was in on everything about this case. Everything.
“Thanks. By the way…I owe you another one,” JB shouted from the doorway.
Cain didn’t even acknowledge the comment. He was too hellfire mad. At JB. At himself. And at ever coming back to Crayton.
Kicking himself for agreeing to help, he jumped into his truck and sat. He should go back in and quit right now. Tell them to get another consultant. Then again, they did need help. This time he knew the boundaries he’d set for himself. He’d known them last time too.
