For whatever reason, the theft of her car hit her hard. It felt like the final straw in a gradually increasing pile. Layla usually never cried, at least in public, and this had long been a point of pride with her. But now, after everything that had gone wrong in the last few days, when her eyes welled up and tears started slipping down her face, she just let them fall. Twice in fewer than twenty-four hours meant everything was going very wrong.
“Hey,” Hunter sounded concerned. “Please don’t cry.” A trace of panic edged his voice. “Layla, it’s going to be okay.”
“Is it?” Sobbing now, she covered her mouth and turned away so he couldn’t see. Most of the men she knew reacted to weepy women with varying degrees of horror or disgust. Why should Hunter be any different? She huddled as close to the passenger door as she could, her shoulders shaking, mouth covered as she tried to cry as quietly as possible.
Instead of recoiling, Hunter reached for her. “Come here, sweetheart.”
Though she wasn’t sure if she should, she half turned, her fist still in her mouth. He pulled her close and then, wonder of wonders, he simply held her and let her cry it out. Inside, she marveled and allowed herself to feel comforted, maybe even loved.
Whoa. Where had that come from? Pushing even the thought away, she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. Like she needed one more thing to worry about. Attraction might sizzle between them, for sure. But attraction and love were two completely different things.
“Here.” He handed her a couple of paper napkins he’d gotten from the pocket in his door.
Grateful, she accepted them, blotting her eyes and finally her nose. “I’m sorry,” she finally managed, her voice a bit more wavering than she’d have liked. “I’m not really a weepy kind of person. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Don’t worry about it.” His easy smile reassured her. You’ve been dealing with a lot. Having your car stolen...”
“Tops it all off nicely,” she finished with a wry smile, still dabbling at her leaky eyes. “To say the least. I really like that car.”
“You’re going to need to file a police report,” he told her. “Luckily, I can take that from you, so you don’t have to go back to the station.”
“Thanks.” She nodded, and then reached for the visor so she could use the mirror to repair the damage. She hadn’t put on very much makeup, so hopefully it wouldn’t be too bad.
It was. When she saw herself, she recoiled. “Jeez,” she muttered. Bright red nose, swollen red eyes and black mascara streaks, which at least she could wipe off. As for the rest of it... “I don’t think that’s fixable.”
“Don’t,” Hunter said, his voice warm. “You’re beautiful, Layla. Even after you’ve been crying.”
Though she knew he was just trying to be nice and make her feel better, oddly enough, she did. Smiling a still watery smile, she asked for more napkins. Once he’d handed them over, she proceeded to do the best she could to make herself look as normal as possible. When she’d finished, she realized she felt better. Apparently, crying could be cathartic.
“Are you ready for me to make the police report?” he asked. “No biggie if you’re not, but I’m thinking we might as well get that done.”
“I agree. I’m ready.” After she gave him her statement, right there in the squad car in the parking lot, they stopped at her place so she could pick up clothes and toiletries, and then went back to his house to take showers. Separate showers, of course. To her surprise, she toyed with the idea of slipping into the shower with him, imagining the naked fun they could have under the water. But she decided to save that for another day and right now focus on practicality over passion.
Goose greeted her with as much enthusiasm as she did Hunter, which tickled her. She even followed Layla to the guest bathroom, sitting down outside in the hallway when Layla closed the door.
Funny how a nice hot shower made her feel better. She dried her hair and got dressed in a comfy pair of soft leggings and an oversize sweatshirt, electing to go without makeup entirely.
When she emerged, she felt human again. Goose still waited, jumping up and wiggling her entire body when Layla petted her. She saw no sign of Hunter but since his bedroom door remained closed, she knew he hadn’t left.
With Goose right on her heels, Layla went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. She appreciated the choices he had in the variety of coffee pods. She chose a dark roast, added sweetener and a dash of milk, and wandered back out into the living room. She sat down in the overstuffed chair near the window, Goose at her feet.
Looking around the small house, she found herself imagining what it would be like to live here, to raise a family. The holidays, like Thanksgiving, with the countertops groaning with food, small children running around underfoot, friends and family laughing. She knew exactly where the Christmas tree would go, could imagine what kind of decorations would go best with his decor.
All the kinds of things she’d never allowed herself to enjoy. It always seemed a waste to decorate only for one.
Wistful, she shook her head at herself. She’d only seen gatherings like that on television or in movies. Growing up, Thanksgiving meant having a meal catered, eating in the cold formal dining room in uncomfortable silence. Later, her father had decided it would be better to ignore the holiday altogether. Part of her had actually been relieved.
Pushing the foolish thoughts from her mind, she got up and crossed the room, coffee in hand, and snagged the remote from the coffee table so she could turn on the television. This time, she sat on the couch, tucking her legs up under her, and invited Goose to join her. The happy dog promptly did, curling into her side. Still feeling remarkably at home, Layla watched a program where people searched for the perfect house. For whatever reason, she loved this show. Especially when each spouse wanted opposite things, making her wonder how they’d managed to stay married in the first place.
Hunter’s door opened and he emerged, hair still damp and tousled, as if he’d made an attempt to towel it dry. “Hey there,” he said, smiling. “Feeling better?”
“I am.” She smiled back, her stomach doing a somersault. “I hope you don’t mind, but I made some coffee.” She loved those crinkle lines around his eyes when he smiled.
“Of course I don’t mind. I told you, make yourself at home. Coffee sounds good. Let me grab a cup and I’ll join you.” His gaze drifted past her to the TV. “I actually like that show.”
Surprised, she nodded, dragging her gaze away from him and back to the TV. Goose, who’d raised her head when Hunter had entered the room, settled back down with a contented sigh.
“I think she likes you,” Hunter mused, returning to take a spot on the opposite end of the sofa. His amused expression told her he didn’t mind. “I always trust my dog’s judgment,” he continued.
Feeling her face heat—was she actually blushing?—Layla pretended to be engrossed in the drama unfolding between the onscreen couple arguing over which kitchen was better.
Her phone chimed, indicating an incoming call. Her father. She pushed the reject button, sending him straight to voice mail. Grimacing, she shook her head. “I’m thinking the head of Colton Energy isn’t too happy that I’ve taken a day off.”
He shrugged. “I’m guessing he’ll have to get over it.” Expression serious, he eyed the way she kept stroking Goose’s fur. “You’re good with dogs.”
“Am I?”
“At least with Goose, you are. Do you have a dog of your own?”
“No.”
“A cat?”
This made her smile. “No. I don’t have any pets. I work such long hours, I didn’t think it would be fair to them.”
He gave her a long look. “You’re the boss. Surely you could take a well-behaved dog to work with you.”
The thought had never occurred to her. Now that he mentioned it, she probably could. Since her father rarely graced the office with his presence, she doubted he would notice. “Noted for future reference,” she said.
“Since you clearly like dogs, have you ever thought about helping out at the K9 training center?”
His offhand question made her heart skip a beat. “I’d love to do that, but I wasn’t aware they’d let anyone volunteer.”
“You’re not exactly anyone, are you?” His grin took any sting off the words. “I mean, your mother’s trust got the training center up and running. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
She nodded. “This past year I’ve been involved in the funding since the trusts ran out. Colton Energy donated quite a bit of money, and I solicited more from some of the other companies we did business with.” Thinking for a second, she took a deep breath. “I’d love to help out there while I’m off work. I could ask my half sister Patience, but as the veterinarian for the training center, I doubt she’s too involved with the volunteers. Do you know who I’d need to contact to see if such a thing might actually be possible? Sarah Danvers?”
“She’d be a great place to start,” he replied. “I’m sure there’s got to be something she needs help with.”
Suddenly, the prospect of a week or two away from Colton Energy felt energizing, full of promise. “I’ll call her after I speak with my insurance company,” she told him. “Would you mind taking me to get a rental car? I’m going to need something to drive until mine is found.”
If it was found. She could only hope for the best.
Once all the calls had been made, Layla’s mood greatly improved. Though the insurance company said she’d need to wait until twenty-four hours after the car had gone missing to file a claim, her agent had told her she carried rental reimbursement, which would pay her back for a rental car. She’d reserved a small, four-door sedan, which would be much different than her Volvo SUV. And best of all, Sarah Danvers had sounded overjoyed at the prospect of Layla volunteering. She’d asked Layla if she could start in the morning. Layla enthusiastically agreed, even though she had no idea what tasks she’d actually be performing.
“Wow,” she told Hunter after ending the call. “Thanks for the suggestion. I start tomorrow. It feels really good to take a leap of faith.” And to be doing something for her own satisfaction, rather than her father’s, though she kept that to herself.
After dropping Layla off at the car rental agency, Hunter and Goose headed into the police station. Hunter filed Layla’s stolen car report and thought about what the chief had said about finding the actual Groom Killer. Hunter decided to go ahead and make some sort of move.
Pretending to be acting as a private citizen rather than a police officer, he called Devlin Harrington’s office and made an appointment to meet with him. Though at first Hunter’s request was met with frosty disapproval by Devlin’s secretary, once Hunter had given the reason for his call, she immediately booked him a slot that very afternoon.
Hunter had done a little bit of digging and learned the youngest Harrington was an avid collector of rare sports memorabilia. In one of the K9 unit’s recent drug busts, they’d confiscated a good-size collection of old baseball cards. Hunter went into impound and slipped a couple in their protective sleeves into a hard, plastic sheath which he placed in his coat pocket, signing them out to be safe, even though he had every intention of returning them later. For now, he’d pretend to be selling them to the highest bidder. Not only would that gain him entrance into Devlin Harrington’s office, but it would give him an idea of what made the other man tick.
Whistling for Goose, who’d gone roaming the office, greeting her legion of fans, Hunter smiled when she came running full speed down the hallway, long ears flying. She skidded to a stop right in front of him, gazing up expectantly.
“Want to go to work, girl?” he asked, bending down to scratch behind her ears. Instantly, she perked up, since he’d used a familiar word, if not the actual phrase. He snapped her leash on and together they headed for his car.
He’d made his appointment with Devlin at two and he hadn’t mentioned that he planned to bring his dog. Goose had her breed and her looks to her advantage. No one ever suspected her of being a police dog, despite her being one of four dogs in the country trained to detect SD cards and thumb drives. She had longer legs and few skin folds.
To Hunter, Goose was the most beautiful dog who’d ever existed. He didn’t really care if the rest of the word thought she looked goofy. He slipped a voice-activated recorder into his pocket and he was ready to go.
The receptionist at Harrington Inc. blinked when he entered with Goose on leash. Hunter leaned on the counter to talk to her, turning up the charm full strength, and she eventually forgot about chiding him over the dog.
She called upstairs, reaching Devlin’s secretary, who told her to send Hunter right up. “Top floor,” she said, and then handed him a yellow sticky note with her name and phone number scrawled on it.
He stuck it in his pocket and headed toward the elevator. As soon as they were inside, he crouched down near Goose. “Ready for work?” he asked. The phrase was one of the cues he used to let her know what she had to do. “Time to go to work.”
Immediately, Goose began checking out the elevator. He chuckled. “At ease. Not yet, girl. Not yet.”
Devlin Harrington’s secretary looked up when he entered the room and frowned. She wore her steel-gray hair in an austere bun, which matched her prim, no-nonsense dress. “I’m sorry, no pets are allowed in here.”
Since Hunter noticed Devlin himself watching from inside his corner office, Hunter shrugged. “Maybe you should ask your boss. You know that the two of us have something important to discuss. Since I don’t go anywhere without my dog, I’ll have to leave. I really don’t think he’d like that.”
Pursing her lips in a tight line, she glared at him. “One moment, please.” Spine stiff, she marched into Devlin’s office. A moment later, she returned. “You may go on in. Along with your...animal.”
Grinning, Hunter decided why the hell not, and winked at her on his way past. Her face turned a dull red, but one corner of her thin lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile.
Finally. Hunter had schemed for weeks for a way to gain entrance to this office. He greeted the younger Harrington with a courteous hello.
As Hunter entered his office and approached the desk, the younger man jumped to his feet and pumped Hunter’s hand a bit too enthusiastically. His gaze dropped to Goose and he frowned.
“What’s with the mutt?” Devlin asked, sniffing the air as if he smelled something foul.
“She’s not a mutt, she’s a purebred basset,” Hunter replied, keeping his tone mild. “Insult my dog, insult me. She quite enjoys going to work with me. Right, Goose? Work?”
The golden combination words of Goose and work had Goose’s nose working overtime. With her on lead, Hunter took a stroll around the large office. “You got some nice pieces,” Hunter commented, studying the collection of autographed baseballs, footballs, jersey and photographs, many of which Devlin kept under glass.
Goose pawed at one display case, her signal to Hunter that she’d detected the unique scent of some kind of data-storage device. He made a mental note and moved on.
As eager to show off as most collectors, Devlin sat back and watched, beaming with pride while Hunter took in the scope of his collection. Which, even though he knew next to nothing about sports memorabilia, Hunter had to admit seemed quite extensive.
One more wall to inspect. Goose signaled once more, tilting her head and looking up at him as she waited for her reward. He dug in his pocket, retrieved one of her favorite liver treats and gave it to her. He knew he’d want to check out those places in the near future. He just had to come up with a legal way, otherwise whatever he found wouldn’t be admissible in court.
When he returned to where Devlin still sat, Hunter took a seat in one of the plush chairs across from the desk. Goose stuck close and sat, too, her side touching Hunter’s leg. Alert, ears slightly back, she didn’t wag her tail as she watched the other man. She was telling him, in her wordless, canine way, to be wary around Devlin.
Good to know. As if he wasn’t already.
“You have something to show me?” Devlin asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
Hunter nodded. Reaching into the inside pocket of his coat, he removed the baseball cards. He placed those on the desk and slid them over to Devlin. “I’m taking bids,” he said. “I’ve got several people who are interested. The highest bidder takes all.”
Picking up the first one, Devlin’s eyes widened. “This is a 1955 Topps Roberto Clemente. The last one known sold for over four hundred grand.”
“I know,” Hunter replied. He’d done his research. Lucky for him, that particular drug dealer had expensive taste in baseball cards. Next up was a 1954 Topps Ted Williams. While that particular card was worth about fifty thousand dollars, it was about the same value the rest of the rare and coveted cards in the collection.
“A 1967 Topps Rod Carew,” Devlin breathed. He looked through the others slowly, trying to maintain a stoic expression, though he failed. Perspiration beaded his forehead, and he kept licking his lips.
When he finished studying the cards, Devlin set the stack down on his desk. “This is over a million dollars’ worth of cards,” he said, his tone suddenly flat. “Mind telling me how you, a police officer, came by them?”
“I took them from our evidence locker,” Hunter replied easily. He’d learned long ago that the truth always worked best. “We got them when we took down a large drug operation a few months ago. One of the top guys was a collector. There are a lot of them, so these won’t be missed.”
Devlin considered his words. “That means you can get more, right?”
Hunter hadn’t expected this response. But when he considered what he knew of Devlin Harrington, a flagrant disregard for the law fit right in. “Maybe,” Hunter allowed. “I have to be careful. I don’t want to get caught.”
“True, true.” Devlin picked up the cards again, slowly leafing through them. “I’m prepared to make a cash offer, right now.”
Goose suddenly stood, her entire posture alert. She moved forward, sniffing the front of the heavy oak desk. When she lifted her paw, almost like a pointer, Hunter dug out another liver treat and gave it to her.
When Hunter looked up again, Devlin continued to watch him intently, oblivious to the dog. “Go ahead and make your offer and I’ll take it under consideration,” Hunter said easily, reaching across the desk and retrieving the cards. “Like I said, I’m dealing with numerous interested parties.”
“I’ll beat any other offer.” A thread of desperation ran though the other man’s voice. “Promise me you’ll at least give me the opportunity to do that.”
“Sounds good.” Hunter pushed to his feet, careful to promise nothing. He scooped the cards up, dropping them carefully into the card sleeves he’d transported them in. After placing them inside his coat pocket, he stepped back. “You’ve got my email. Shoot your best offer over to me that way. I’ll be back in touch.”
Goose by his side, Hunter strode out of the office, slightly worried that Devlin would attempt to stop him and take the cards by force.
But once he and his dog rode the elevator down, his heartbeat steadied. “Three places, eh, girl?” he said. Goose looked up and wagged her tail. While he had to be careful, as an illegal search would completely undermine any case, at least he knew Devlin Harrington was hiding some sort of electronic data storage. For now, that would have to be enough.
Back at the office, he checked in with his crew. Nothing new in the search for Demi Colton, which surprised no one. Demi had once been a very successful bounty hunter. If anyone knew the best places to lie low, she did. Hunter didn’t expect her to be found anytime soon.
“Fenwick Colton has gone on a rampage,” one of the guys told him. “Seems his daughter Layla has disappeared. He’s wanting to file a missing-persons report and have us find her.”
“What?” Hunter couldn’t contain his shock. “I just took a stolen vehicle report from her, not more than a couple hours ago. She’s not missing.”
“The mayor says she won’t return his calls and she’s not home.” The other detective shrugged.
“Sounds like more of a domestic dispute than anything else,” someone else chimed in. “But you know Fenwick. Always trying to pull strings.”
“Since you’re the last one to see Layla,” Chief Colton said, walking into the squad room and pointing at Hunter, “I’d like you to call him and calm him down.”
Hunter winced. Ouch. “Will do,” he replied, picking up his phone. He had to be careful what he said, as he didn’t want to betray Layla’s confidence. He also couldn’t lie to the mayor.
The call went about as he expected. A lot of yelling on Fenwick Colton’s end, pretend hysteria about his daughter’s safety along with a clear disbelief that Layla appeared to be avoiding him. “She won’t even take my calls,” Fenwick complained at least five times, injured pride making his voice more irritating than usual.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Hunter said, though he wasn’t. “But I spoke with her earlier today and she was just fine.” He also didn’t want to tell the other man that Layla’s car had been stolen.
Finally, Hunter appeared to get the mayor to understand that the police department couldn’t help him mend his rift with his daughter. Layla was an adult, so at this point there wasn’t much Fenwick could do.
Since he wasn’t officially on a scheduled shift, Hunter left shortly after dark. He stopped at the Chinese place and got some fried rice and sweet and sour chicken—enough for two, just in case Layla hadn’t eaten.
Funny, but he found himself eager to get home and tell Layla about his day. Though he had no idea if she would even still be there, he truly hoped she’d stay at least one more night. Preferably more.
When he turned down his street and saw a little rental car parked in his driveway, a rush of happiness filled him. As he parked, he took a moment to consider how he felt. While he didn’t know for sure where this thing with Layla might be going, or even if it was going anywhere at all, he understood he had a choice. He could obsess over nothing or take it one day at a time and see what happened.
When Mae Larson had taken him in after his parents’ deaths, she’d seen right away how worried about his future the teenaged boy had been. He’d wailed about his grief and his pain, not sure how he’d get through the rest of the school year.
One day at a time, she’d told him. Put one foot in front of the other and keep going. That’s the only choice you have.
She’d been right. He’d be forever grateful to her for that. He’d had a clear choice: to follow one path or to take another. He’d studied hard and graduated near the top of his class. His SAT scores were high enough to get him a partial scholarship to college, and Mae had helped him apply for several others. She’d made up the difference herself. When he’d graduated with a business degree from South Dakota State, she’d been there, as proud as if he really was her kin. He’d pretended not to mind that the rest of her family claimed to have forgotten about his graduation.
He’d stayed in Sioux Falls for several years after college, working in accounting for a large legal firm. To his young and idealistic astonishment, the executives and attorneys he’d worked with were consumed with jostling for power. He’d witnessed firsthand so much backstabbing and outright corruption, he’d known he had to get out.
When the position at Colton Energy had opened up, he’d applied, thinking it would be good to move back to the place where he’d grown up.
Unfortunately, working there had been more of the same, just on a much smaller scale.
He’d told Layla the truth when she’d asked why he’d chosen to go into law enforcement. He truly felt as if his job made a difference in other people’s lives. Sure, he might see a lot of bad actors and criminals, but at least as a police officer he could bring them to justice.
Getting out of his car, he glanced at his house. The yellow light shining from his windows filled him with warmth. For the first time since he’d moved away from Red Ridge, someone waited for him at home.
He’d need to be careful not to get too used to that.