Hit 'N' Run (Under Suspicion #1) (12 page)

“I, ah, don’t want to have to go…”

“But you have to,” she supplied, filling in his pause, still holding his hand.

“Can I have a rain check on the picnic?” He squeezed her hand lightly. The reassurance didn’t resonate on his face.

“Of course,” she said, forcing a smile.
No need to make this harder than it has to be
. They were both very polite now. She couldn’t read his mood because he had closed himself off.
Do all cops do that?
“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I wish I could.” He dropped her hand and gathered his clothes to his body. “But I can’t.”

***

Mitch clenched his hands behind his back. “They’re out?” He was incredulous. “After all the work we did to put them there. The months of investigation, planning, and witness testimony procured. Bail was set at a paltry hundred-thousand each? What’s wrong with this system—it’s insane. They fart that kind of cash.”

“Wonder what they shit then?” the Chief asked from his usual position behind his desk, his face bland. “You were with the Tymchuk woman when you called in?”

Mitch flicked his gaze from his commander to the picture of uniformed officers on parade seeing no way to avoid the question. “Yes,” he said, rolling back marginally on his heels, unwilling to elaborate. Today was not the day for sitting casually in Boulet’s office.

“You should know, I consider her a suspect as of…” He fixed Mitch with a withering stare. “Now.” His beady eyes tore holes through Mitch. “And as of
right now
, you’re to stay away from that woman. I have placed her under investigation.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” Mitch began, shaking his head. “I assure you.”

“You can’t assure shit.” Boulet’s palms landed with a heavy thud on the top of his desk, his blunt fingers pressed into the surface. “Your cover is blown, and the only link is a woman from your past who hits you in another city, turns your license in, and announces for anyone who will listen it’s a phony.”

“Chief, she couldn’t have known I was undercover—”

“Doesn’t it strike you as odd,” the older man interrupted, leaning forward on his hands, emphasizing each word. “Woman like that rents a truck. A big fucker. A diesel dually. Something that can do serious damage even at low speeds.”

“A mix-up—”

“And,” the chief continued, clear on his rant. “If she was so sure she recognized you, why turn you in to the cops? Why do it, Mitch?”

“I, ah—”

“Doesn’t make sense, does it? If I had—ah—what shall we call it—past relations with a woman, and she met me out of the blue, I would hope she wouldn’t up and turn me in like this one did.”

“I still don—”

“And you want to see her again,” Chief continued, lifting his hands as though this was the most unbelievable situation he ever encountered. “What kind of hold does she have over you? Stop. Don’t answer; I don’t want to know.”

“It’s impossible she—”

“Nothing’s impossible, Mitch, and you seem to lack the comprehension of that fact. There’s no room for assumptions here. Too many coincidences lead back to this woman.” His superior shook his silver head. “Until we know for sure, she’s off limits, Mitch.”

Chapter Eleven

When Lorna didn’t hear from Mitch after he left on Sunday, she was plagued with old insecurities. For distraction, she immersed herself finalizing her campaign for Aqua Oil. Using non-traditional media options—Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn amongst others—in addition to the age-old standbys formed the foundation of her approach to building this company’s reputation in advance of the pipeline opening next year.

Talk radio played softly in the background. Lorna paused when the show’s host confirmed his pending retirement in the fall. “Too bad,” she muttered out loud. Rutherford was a powerhouse, and she had hoped to get Tim a spot for an interview. “They’ll never find a competent replacement.”

“Tia.” Lorna buzzed through to her assistant in the adjoining office. “Can you get in touch with your contact at Corus, and let me know who they have in mind to replace the morning show host?”

“Sure. You want me to book anything?”

“No, not just yet.” She ran the edge of her pen down the page of her notes and circled
radio
, placing a question mark next to it. If she couldn’t find a solid platform for quality question-and-answer, she would suggest skipping, rather than proceeding half-assed. “I just want to know the lay of the land. I may need to consider a podcast.”

Sketching out uses for the Aqua Oil logo, Lorna pulled her notepad on the iPad closer to add yet another question: why was the logo AQO instead of AO? She hoped June wouldn’t get her hair in a tizzy to answer these questions. They were all things Lorna needed to know to move the campaign forward and it started with the simple and often overlooked.

Continuing her work from her home office in an effort not to think of Mitch and the lack of a call, Lorna finished just about all of the company prep for the campaign. Finally exhausted, she crawled into bed, telling herself not hearing from the man who rocked her world is a cop and not hearing from him was too expected. But the excuse was a fable. At her core, she knew something more caused his absence.

Perched on the edge of her seat behind her desk the next day, cheeks propped on the heels of her palms, she monitored the flow of information on her computer without acknowledging the e-mails demanding attention. Exhausted from a restless night, her mind drifted to the memory of Mitch’s touch, the way he kissed her with such hunger. His absolute masculinity and strength attracted her like a compass to due north. His every move was intentional and when he took her in his arms, she felt she had at last come home. With him, she was his equal. She had meaning as a woman with him, and for the second time in her life, she gave herself fully to another.

Despite the extraordinary day, she regretted how she fell right into his arms—again.
For the second time.

Shaking her head and sitting up straight to rid herself of the unproductive line of thought, Lorna pulled her list of questions for June up on the screen. The list was growing.

Her phone rang, and she addressed several questions from a client before returning to her e-mails.
It’s no use
. She flexed her fingers before picking up her phone to check for texts or messages from unknown callers.

Disappointment reined. Nothing. Not too timid to call, she simply did not have a phone number or address for Mitch. He was like a phantom, an apparition who appeared back into her life only to disappear again.
Oh God, let me not have to go through the heart-ache again.
She slammed her fist on the desk, rage sprouted sweat on her brow.
Fucking guy; I believed him
.

Lorna set down her phone, noticing Tia, paused on the threshold outside her office. “Hey, you okay? Too much sun this weekend painting the fence?”

With effort, Lorna flattened her hands on the table top and forced a smile. “Yeah, maybe. Trying to get things ready for Kris’s big day. You’re going to bring Hillary, right?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Tia’s daughter was a year older than Kris, but they got along amazingly well. “Good; the more the merrier.”

“I can’t believe Kris will be four next week. Well, come to that, I can’t believe Hillary will be starting school next year,” Tia said lying a stack of papers for signature on Lorna’s desk. “They grow so fast.” With her chin, she motioned to the files, her smooth brow pinched in question. “Here are the contracts for Aqua Oil. As an official client, does this mean June will be
easier
to deal with now—or worse?”

“Oh, let’s pray for better, please. Especially with the list of questions I need answered,” Lorna flipped through the first couple of printed pages. “However, she was downright friendly when we got together last.”

“No way.” Tia lifted her hand to her face dramatically. In mock horror, she altered her voice. “Say it ain’t so! You mean she may have a heart after all?” She laughed, picking up the paperwork in Lorna’s out-tray. “She said you’re going to northern British Columbia with the camera crew to film the pipeline opening and start an environmentally friendly campaign?”

“Yes,” Lorna agreed, starting to sign her name to the flagged pages. “The commercial was in our original proposal. I’ll need you all over the Twitter lines that day as I have expanded our global approach to blast the social media scene,” she said, pausing to check a line in the document she was signing. “Did she indicate a date? Pray it’s after the party. I don’t want to have to try to get around her, and I am not going anytime before Kris’ party.”

Tia pulled out her note pad. “June indicated the twenty-fourth would work best. Next week, Wednesday.”

Lorna dropped her pen and threw her hands in the air in jubilation. “All right. Things are finally moving in our favor. I was almost expecting her to say this week.”

Energized, Lorna pulled up her calendar. “Okay then. Let’s book the camera crew. We’ll fly on Tuesday. In the morning. That way we can accommodate any delays. But don’t book the flight until everything else is confirmed. Get me a meeting with June this week so I can go through what we’ll do on-site and get the scripts ready. I’ll leave my list of questions behind at the meeting. What am I missing?” She altered her gaze from her monitor to her assistant, who scribbled on her iPad syncing notes.

Tia’s finger pushed the screen up and then down. “Same production company we used for Sinclair?”

“Yes,” Lorna nodded. “Oh, and let’s make sure to send a note off to Tim with the details once June gives the go.”

“Good thinking,” Tia agreed. “Mr. Fong likes to be on top of the details. Maybe he doesn’t trust June.”

“Or he’s anal,” Lorna laughed. “Definitely a controlling man, for sure.”

A grin lifted the edges of Tia’s long mouth. “He
is
a details kinda guy.”

“You’re so much more politically correct than I am. Okay, see if we can’t pull Tim into this meeting as well.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tia said, her smile deepening her dimples as she left Lorna’s office.

Focused, Lorna managed to keep Mitch from her mind until the drive home, and she saw the flashing lights of a police car.
Why did he seek me out after all this time? He could have left well enough alone.
By the time she got home, even Kris’s happy chatter couldn’t seem to pull her out of her mood.

“Did things not work out between you and Mitch?” Mariam asked, filling Kris’s milk cup.

“Mit-chell, Nana.”

“Oh, yes,” Mariam smiled, her round face flushed with the heat of the day. “Mitchell.”

Her smile turned pained as she regarded at Lorna. “Oh, dear. And I so liked him.”

“So did I,” Lorna replied, putting on a brave face.

“Me, too,” the child agreed, reaching for more ketchup, a pout casting his bottom lip into prominent position.

“Enough ketchup for one meal.” Lorna kissed the top of his silky head and stood to replace the ketchup in the fridge.

“Oh, Nana?”

“No Nana,” Mariam said, her gazed fastened on Lorna. “Listen to your mama.”

When supper ended and Kris left to play with his toys, Mariam spoke up again. “What happened, dear?”

“I’d rather not talk about it just now, Ma.”

“You’d rather never talk about anything,” the older woman admonished lovingly, running a light hand down Lorna’s arm. “Someday you may find it will do you some good to talk.”

“Aw, Ma, it’s not like that.” Lorna paused, glimpsing the pity on Mariam’s face. “Really, it’s not. I genuinely don’t know what’s going on. We had a wonderful day, for how long it lasted anyway. Then he got a call and poof, he was gone. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Well, he is a police officer, you know. He could be working.”

“I’m sure you’re right. But 24-7? He could call or something, couldn’t he?”

“It’s a modern age; you could call him.” Mariam turned to load the dishes in the dishwasher while Lorna rinsed and passed them to her.

“I can’t,” Lorna began.

“You could.”

“No, really, Ma. I can’t—”

“Why ever not?” Mariam lifted her green eyes to Lorna’s in question.

Lorna lowered her eyes, embarrassed, busying herself with wiping down the counter. “I don’t have his number. I don’t even know where he lives,” she said, lifting her hand, wringing the dishcloth in despair. “Now, it’s been too long and—”

“Nonsense,” Mariam straightened and pierced her with a solid look, hands on her hips. “What’s the use of that golly web if you don’t use it?”

Lorna suffered the urge to smile. “You mean Google?”

“Yeah, the web stuff where everybody can find everybody else.”

Later, working in her den, editing the mock-up pages for a client’s website, Lorna contemplated Mariam’s advise and using her skills to locate Mitch. She could do it,
easily
. But she refrained. Her quick, surface internet search pulled up nothing, and she declined to go deeper. He was an undercover cop after all, and if he didn’t want to be found and she found him, her past would quickly come back to haunt her. Lorna strove to close the mental lid on the buried, sealed youth file and put that part of her life behind her. If Mitch wanted her to contact him, he would have given her his number.

“Goddamnit to hell. This is stupid,” she muttered, setting her laptop away from her on the tidy desk. Kris was long since asleep, and Lorna could hardly glance at her bed without imagining Mitch in it. Even the chair she sat in now played home to his bare bottom and she squirmed. She stood so suddenly her chair wheeled back to bump the bookshelf. “Why the hell did you come back into my life if you were only going to disappear?”

She had been better off nursing her ill-conceived anger than to wonder what turned him off.
Was I too needy? Appeared too eager?
She closed the lid of the computer. The glow from the monitor where his name was typed in the search engine had seemed to look at her with accusation.

Standing just inside her doorway, undressing, looking back towards her den, her nipples tingled and her insides throbbed, remembering Mitch sitting naked at her desk. His wide shoulders, sinewy with toned muscles, gloried over a length of back tapered to well-sculpted buttocks. Releasing her hair from its tight confine, Lorna shook her head, running a hand through the thick strands, massaging her scalp.
This won’t do
, she thought, turning to her ensuite bathroom to brush her teeth with a vengeance.

***

Seated across the street, Mitch watched the fair head bob in and out of his line of sight in the upper window. For a long time, there was just the glow from a computer monitor lighting the small den where she worked in the evenings. Now there was only the occasional appearance of her shadow in motion to let him know she was still up. How he craved to climb the trellis and sneak in to simply hold her in his arms again.

At that moment, Boulet’s warning flashed; His job or his dick.

Mitch couldn’t wrap his head around Lorna being involved. Granted, some things didn’t add up, but did that mean she was involved with the Fongs?

The quiet neighborhood had settled down for the evening, preparing for slumber. Kids on bikes had long since returned to their homes. A teenage couple strolled past and paused under a tree to engage in some heavy petting. Mitch smiled when a front porch light flashed and the parent appeared in the doorway and kids broke apart.

Soon, even the occasional yap from a dog seemed too tired for much effort. The blanket night descended bringing along the canopy of stars.
This is normal life
, Mitch reflected. He watched the lights go out in Lorna’s house, feeling like every kind of heel for cutting off all contact.

Aching to knock on her door, Mitch eased out of the unmarked cruiser to stretch his legs. He shut the passenger door with a barely audible click. He ran the palms of his hands along the tops of his pants, breathing in the fresh scent of lilac from a nearby bush. Luke had been assigned by Boulet to partner Mitch in his surveillance.
Make sure I follow orders, more like
. Since their last encounter, their friendship had been strained.