Scott strode past a lady pushing a stroller on the sidewalk beside the police station. A chipmunk scampered between the lilac bushes lining the path. Tuckerton couldn’t be more different from busy, manic NYC or arid Mexico.
Despite the peaceful setting, tension revved inside him after his encounter with Maddie. Damn it. What the hell was she doing in Tuckerton? He’d kept his cool, but she’d rocked him. Even in muddy work boots and a dusty coat, she’d jump-started his heart.
She hadn’t held back. Not that he could blame her.
Not a day went by that he didn’t think of her. He missed the way she nibbled her lower lip when she couldn’t make a decision and the twinkle in her eyes as she challenged him—which was all the time. The woman had a knack for driving him crazy right before she kissed him into oblivion.
When he left her two years ago with a promise they’d work out a future together, he’d meant it, but then his life had gone to hell, and he’d convinced himself he had to live without her. For both their sakes, she’d be better off. She might understand if he explained, but he couldn’t.
Too complicated.
Too painful.
Too dangerous, for both of them.
Maybe she was only in town for a short time. She traveled all over the world, or used to, anyway. Right now, he had a drug-dealing son of a bitch to take down, and that’s where his focus needed to stay.
Scott swung the station door open and glanced around the room. Fluorescent lights embedded in the dropped ceiling flickered. Four empty desks and a vacant holding cell filled the room. Neatly stacked files rested beside turned-off computer monitors. Nope. He wasn’t in the Big Apple anymore.
A noise came from the adjacent room, and Scott turned. The sight of his old mentor had its usual calming effect. A seasoned narcotics detective, Lee had shown Scott the ropes working joint operations with the DEA. The man was unflappable. Scott nodded. “Hey, Chief.”
Lee’s mouth curved into a look-what-the-cat-dragged-in smile. “Hey, yourself. Come on in.”
Scott entered the office only big enough to hold a desk and two chairs.
Lee stood, and they shook hands. In the last four years, he hadn’t changed much. More gray hair, but he still had the same strong build and those cool, blue eyes that could stare down the meanest badass. “Want some coffee?”
“I’m good for now.” Scott dropped into the hard, wooden seat across from Lee, who picked up an oversize coffee mug and took a drink. No doubt the contents were sky-high octane and thicker than molasses. That’s the only way they’d gotten through their stakeout nights. Caffeine and adrenaline, a wicked combination.
Scott waved a hand at the empty station room. “It’s like a morgue here.”
“Usually is. Four cops, including you. We’re talking small. No nine-one-one service. Hell, we go by first names and don’t even use ten codes on the radio. Takes some getting used to. Nothing but petty crime in this town.”
Scott’s gaze went to the framed picture on the desk of Lee’s wife. Her hair had grown back after the chemo treatments. He touched the side of the photo. “How’s she doing?”
Lee stroked a hand across his chin. “Great. In remission. I think moving out of the city and my leaving narcotics lowered her stress level. Helped to return here, where she has family.”
Family. The knot in Scott’s stomach tightened.
A muscle ticked under Lee’s jaw. “This is a nice town full of good people. I got this job because the former chief was a friend of my wife’s family. He was ready to retire but hung in for another month until I could take over.” He glanced at the framed picture. “When she underwent chemo, I couldn’t fit another casserole into the refrigerator. This piece of shit Mole isn’t going to set up shop here and endanger these folks. That’s why I asked for you. You’re the best DEA agent I ever worked with.”
Sometimes the best still wasn’t good enough. Scott swallowed and stood. “We were damn close to putting Mole away in the Southwest, but the guy’s as slippery as an eel and twice as slimy.” He paced to the window. “We’ll get enough evidence this time. It’s going to be harder for him to smuggle drugs here. Mexico isn’t right across the border.”
Lee tapped a file on the desk. “This has the aerial photograph and address for the land where Mole plans to build his resort. Your guys tell me he intends to use the place to launder drug money like he did in the Four Corners, and they wager that what he really wants is to dig up artifacts and sell them on the black market.”
Without a doubt. That was his MO. Scott returned to the desk and sat. “We’re working that angle. Have an agent set up as a buyer. No offense to your force, but this goes beyond small-town police. Mole is brutal. He would chew your guys up and spit them out.”
“I’m not interested in a pissing contest with the DEA. You have my cooperation. Gotta tell you, though, Tom Waslinski was gunning for this detective job and took it hard.” Lee swigged his coffee. “He’s a good guy and well-liked. Thirty-four—same as you— but a patrol cop. You have your work cut out with the locals, since you’re filling this spot.”
Scott nodded. Sometimes life wasn’t fair. “Small-town loyalties run deep. No one wants an outsider taking a job. I feel bad for him, but I didn’t come to win a popularity contest. I’m here to put Mole behind bars.”
“Well, the sooner we do that, the sooner you’ll move on to the next case, and Tom can have this job.”
“That’s the plan. In the meantime, I’ll play the dirty-cop role and see if that bastard takes the bait.”
Lee pointed to the computer screen. “I checked your records, and they’ve been altered to say you’ve been a beat cop and detective in NYC for the last thirteen years.” He leaned across the desk. “No one here knows that we ever worked together or that you’re still DEA. We need to keep it that way. Can’t chance any slip-ups.”
Scott’s shoulders tensed. “Well, Houston, we have a problem, because someone here does know about my DEA job.”
Lee’s eyes widened. “Who?”
“Maddie Cooper.” Scott’s throat constricted. Just saying her name took him back. “I met her before I left for Mexico the second time. She knows me as Scott Evans, not Scott Fisher.”
“Damn. This complicates things. I’m guessing you were more than friends?” Lee raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. I met her at a bar in Maryland. We hit it off and ended up spending a pretty intense summer together. She has reason to be pissed at me. I left her hanging.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
Scott closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “Shit happened when I was in Mexico last time.” The pain still wrenched his heart to the point of losing his breath. “I couldn’t keep my promises to Maddie. I tried to call, but she was off the grid. And then I was in too deep to risk outside contact.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll tell you about it later.” If he could get the words out. Never talked to anyone about it. “Right now, I need to see Maddie. This whole operation could be compromised if she says anything to anyone about me. Are we caught up for now?”
“Yeah. Go do what you need to do.” Lee typed something into the computer and printed out a sheet. “She’s probably at work. Here are the addresses of the excavation site, her apartment, and her phone number.”
“Thanks.” Scott stood. “Do you have any idea if she’s going to be here long?”
“All I know is she’s been doing an excavation for the last year. You’d have to check with Tom or talk to her yourself about future plans.”
Tom and Maddie? Scott ground his molars together. Better not to know. What she did with her love life was no longer his business.
Right. If he clenched any harder, he might shatter his teeth.
Lee stood. “Good luck. Maddie’s a feisty one. I wouldn’t want to be on her shit list.”
Feisty was an understatement. The woman had a quick temper, a bad habit of acting before thinking, and no reason to want to help him after what he’d done.
He needed more than luck.