Authors: Jeri Odell
“Three older brothers. Was the word
princess
used in regard to you?”
She blushed and played with a blade of grass. “Occasionally.”
“Figures.” Eli rose and grabbed his stuff. “Let’s head back, guys.” He had to keep the distance; they were getting too comfortable, too chummy. His little troop rose, as did Delanie.
“How do you know Eli?” Oscar asked her on the walk back to the apartment building.
“He’s my new partner.” Delanie glanced at Eli, but he gave no response.
“I figured you for a cop,” Miguel said. “How many girls can take guys down unless they’re cops?”
The whole herd started laughing. Eli shook his head and rolled his eyes. Nope, he wouldn’t live down this humiliation for a long while. Junior high boys had memories a million miles long.
“Have you ever killed anybody?” Oscar wondered.
“Killing people isn’t what the job is about. It’s about protecting people, and I’ve protected a lot of people.”
Eli thought her answer seemed trite. Of course the
princess
had never killed anybody. He hoped his life never depended on her doing that for him. He’d die for sure. Eli paused at the edge of the road next to his building, his resentment of her returning full force. “You guys head home for lunch and some family time. I want you each to volunteer to do a chore for your moms—an unrequested chore. I’ll meet you at three in the clubhouse for a game of pool, but only if your homework and chores are finished.”
❧
Eli headed down the driveway toward the back of the complex. She stood on the curb, and he completely ignored her presence. Turning, he took a sidewalk toward the apartments.
“Eli, wait. Can we talk?” Today she’d caught a glimpse of the man he was, but she still hoped to break down some barriers between them.
He paused at his front door. “I have nothing to say.” Opening the door, he faced her with one foot inside the apartment and the other on the outside mat. “Look, Delanie. Get this straight—I don’t want to be your friend, your buddy, or even your partner. And I certainly don’t ever want you showing up here again.” His tone was even and matter-of-fact. “You got it?”
Delanie’s spirits sank, but she wouldn’t let him see the discouragement. Raising her chin a fraction, she said with determination, “With all my other partners—”
“I’m not all your other partners.” He’d raised his volume a tad. “We’re not having coffee. We’re not having lunch. We’re not having a conversation—not now, not ever!” He paused and shook his head. “What about this don’t you get? I’ve been completely clear, haven’t I?”
Delanie nodded. “Will you be at work tomorrow?” His words made her doubt he’d keep the job if it meant an assignment with her.
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.” Eli slammed the door behind him.
Shoulders drooping, Delanie ambled to her car, kicking a pebble along the way. Climbing in, she buckled her seat belt and leaned her head against the bucket seat. “Lord, I feel so hurt. I’ve never had anyone so blatantly dislike me.” The worst part was, she really wanted to be his friend. Closing her eyes, she sighed. No, the worst part was, she found him so attractive, so appealing—so manly.
“And he hates me.” She’d hoped that someday he’d see God could rescue him from his lonely life, teach him about joy, lead him to peace. Not just because Joe wanted her to impact him for Christ, but also because he mattered to her.
She started her car and shifted into first. “Wonder what he’d do if I showed up for pool?” She laughed at the thought. He’d probably have her arrested for stalking him. “I’m going to make this guy like me if it’s the last thing I do. People always like me.” She let out the clutch, and the car rolled forward. He wouldn’t be the first person to reject her friendship. Her pride wouldn’t stand for that.
❧
The next morning Eli headed out the door early for his meeting with Sarge, where he’d get his next assignment. Hopping on his hog, he caught Virginia Street to downtown and took a left on Second. Parking his bike in the police lot, he caught sight of Delanie walking toward the two-story building. He didn’t call out to her but avoided her presence as long as possible. She’d been on his mind all night—her smile, her warmth, her openness, even when he bordered on rude. Letting out a long, slow breath, he reminded himself that he didn’t need her complicating his life. Besides, eventually every relationship ended in pain—they always did. He was living proof.
Eli took the narrow hall to Sarge’s office. At least he’d be back on the streets, making a difference. He might be stuck with Delanie Cooper, but even having her as an albatross couldn’t stop him from making arrests, busting dealers, and getting illegal substances off the street.
He rapped on the open door once. Delanie and Sarge looked up. “Eli, come in.” Sarge rose and motioned him forward. Eli took the vinyl chair next to Delanie but never glanced in her direction. The scent of lavender, however, teased his nose with an awareness of her presence.
Sarge walked over and shut the door, handing them both a copy of the case file. Eli flipped it open. The words
Baby-Selling Ring
jumped off the page. He glanced at Sarge, who was studying him. Eli shut the folder, stood, and dropped it on the desk. “There must be some mistake. I’m assigned to the drug detail. You’ve got the wrong guy.” Eli experienced a mixture of fear and anger—fear that they’d taken him off his regular unit and anger at their nerve.
“Delanie’s the perfect cop for this assignment—”
“And she can have this assignment. I want to go back to the drug detail.”
“Eli, sit down.” Sarge used his no-nonsense tone. “Your old unit is full right now, and Delanie needs a partner. You, pal, need an assignment. It all works.”
Eli dropped into the chair. “Not for me, it doesn’t.”
“I’m not fighting you on this one.” Sarge leaned forward. “Are you in or out?”
“From what you said yesterday. . .” Eli stared at his fist in his lap. “I either accept this position and this partner, or I’m out of a job.” He felt the urge to punch something. “I have a dad to support. I don’t have a choice.”
“Then will you try to remember that and stop butting heads with me at every turn?” Sarge handed the file back to Eli and cleared his throat. Then he put on his reading glasses and opened his copy of the case. “Delanie will pose as a pregnant teen, and you’re the father of her child. She wants to keep the baby, but you’re pressuring her into selling the child for money because you’re out of work. Delanie’s appearance makes her ideal. Not only do they have hope for a beautiful baby, but she can easily pass for a teen.”
“Thanks a lot.” Delanie spoke for the first time that morning.
“Someday you’ll be happy—” Sarge began.
“You sound like my mother. Someday I’ll be happy I look twelve when I’m actually twenty-eight.”
Eli hadn’t guessed she was that old. He’d have said twenty-four at the max, but Sarge hit the looks part dead-on. Delanie Cooper was one pretty lady. This morning she wore jeans that accentuated her small frame and a pink T-shirt that emphasized her slender waist.
Stop! You’re thinking about her again.
Eli reopened the folder and focused on the task before him.
“Not twelve, but sixteen,” Sarge assured her. “We’ll set you up with a fake belly, maternity clothes, IDs. Both of your histories are in the folder.” He held his hand up. “One thing.” He looked at Eli. “You’re a young couple who’s in love, so you’ll have to play the part. The animosity between you two must be gone. Just like in the drug world, Eli, you’ve got to be one hundred percent believable.”
Great. Now we have to be lovey-dovey.
The assignment got worse with every tick of the clock. If he didn’t have this wall of hostility raised between them, how could he keep his distance? She’d already been popping up in his head; all he needed was her taking root in his heart. No, this news was not good at all.
“We’ve been working on this case for a while, to no avail. As you know, baby selling is still a misdemeanor in most states—fortunately no longer here. We’ve finally figured out we’ll have to infiltrate the ring from the inside since we haven’t been able to penetrate from the outside. Thus the need for you two. We believe a doctor and lawyer have teamed up on this venture and are making a fortune. We have several possible suspects, but nothing concrete. You two have a lot of work cut out for you.”
“How do you even know the ring exists if you have so little evidence, and why are you suddenly willing to put two full-time cops on the job?” Eli asked.
“Murder. A young teen disappeared, and we treated it as a runaway. She was only thirteen years old. The information is in your packet.” Sarge waved the folder in the air. “About four months later she placed a call to her mother saying she was pregnant and some people were giving her a lot of money for her baby. Problem was, she no longer wanted the money; she wanted to keep her baby. Before her mother could get any substantial information, she heard a ruckus, and the line went dead. The girl’s body was discovered last week. From the autopsy we know she’d given birth just hours before her death.”
Eli felt sick. A thirteen-year-old kid—not old enough to be a mom—certainly not old enough to die. He shook his head, and some of the pain from his brother’s death punched him in the gut. Teen deaths because of crime—any crime—had to be stopped. He flipped through the file until he found her picture. Julie Johnson stared back at him with blue eyes and curly blond hair. He’d never forget her face.
Sarge and Delanie were talking, but he’d missed the gist of the conversation. “Sound okay to you, Eli?” Sarge asked.
Eli must have looked lost. Delanie said to him, “We’ll go look over the file and come back this afternoon for the final briefing.”
Eli nodded.
“How about if we head for Dreamer’s? I haven’t had my morning caffeine yet,” she said.
Not into the popular coffeehouses, he was a simple guy who liked simple things like good old Folger’s. “Whatever.”
“Do you want to walk? It’s easier than searching for parking.”
He shrugged. They bid Sarge farewell and agreed to meet back in his office at three. In the meantime he and Delanie had a lot of work ahead of them.
She led the way down the drab hall and out into the morning sunshine. They walked in silence along the Raymond I. Smith Truckee River Walk. Following the waterway, they trekked the few blocks to the old red brick building housing Dreamer’s Coffeehouse and Deli on the corner of Virginia and the river walk.
“I love the river—something about the sound of the water. . .” Stopping, she inhaled the fragrance of the flowers planted along the way. “The pastoral setting never fails to lift my mood.”
Delanie ordered a hot latte, and he ordered plain coffee—black.
They found a corner table and spread out their files, what they could. The little round table didn’t allow much room for spreading. He watched her thumb through the paperwork until she came to the girl’s picture. She pulled it out and just stared for the longest time. He watched the emotions on her face; this case had become personal to her, too. Something about that young face in the photograph—the face that would never go to a prom, never get a driver’s license, never grow old. . .
Delanie let out a long, slow breath and laid the picture on top of her paperwork. “Sometimes life isn’t fair.”
At least they agreed on something. “Seldom, if ever, is life fair.”
Delanie studied him for a moment. He refocused on the case notes, not wishing to continue the conversation or the scrutiny.
Clearing her throat, Delaine said, “Joe thought the first thing we should do is choose names we’ll both remember and respond to easily. I was thinking maybe Ethan for you, and I can still call you E, but it’s your call.”
“Ethan’s fine.”
“What about me?”
Eli shook his head, still not wanting to think about her.
“How about Coopet?” she asked with a grin. She must be trying to be silly to pull him out of his funk. “Or Coopetta?”
In spite of himself, he smiled. “You could be D, and I’ll be E.”
“Sure, and how about F for our last name?” She rolled her eyes, and they both chuckled. Laughter kept all cops sane, making the job bearable and releasing tension. Man, did she look beautiful when she laughed. He thought about what name might fit her, something fairly close to her own, something soft and feminine.
“How about Lanie?”
Her expression changed at his suggestion, but he couldn’t quite read her. “Lanie?” she asked quietly.
“Lanie.” This time he said it with absolute certainty.
Chapter 3
Lanie.
Pain squeezed Delanie’s heart. At her insistence, everyone had stopped calling her Lanie when she was ten—right after Grandpa died. Hearing it now—after all those years—still brought a reaction. She’d been Grandpa’s special girl, and Lanie was his special name for her. He’d started the trend, and soon the whole family followed his lead.
“Coop?” Eli’s tone reflected his uncertainty. “If you don’t like Lanie. . .” His brow creased.
She shook her head. He seemed so pleased with the idea; she didn’t want to spoil what little progress they’d made. “Lanie’s fine.” Inhaling a deep breath, she pulled a highlighter from her purse and began to read the case file, avoiding his probing eyes, not wishing him to see the emotion the name evoked. They sat in silence, sipping their hot beverages, studying the notes, and occasionally commenting on something from the file.