Saving Scott (Kobo) (9 page)

The cop’s
eyes narrowed. Ashley sensed that male alpha dog syndrome brewing. Clearly
Officer Brody thought Scott should be more submissive. Scott didn’t back down,
despite the fact that a uniform trumped a towel—at least in her mind. Scott
didn’t seem to agree. But he broke eye contact and looked at her. “You’re not
obligated to answer his questions.”

Ashley
tugged at her hair. “He hasn’t asked me anything. Not really, anyway. Only if I
own my bakery—which I do. And he hasn’t told me anything either.” She switched
her attention to the officer. “Has there been another accident? Is there an
emergency? Should I get down there?”

“Can we go
inside?” Officer Brody said again.

“Don’t say
anything, Ashley,” Scott said.

Officer
Brody frowned at Scott. “Are you a lawyer, Mr. Whelan?”

Lawyer?
Ashley’s heart thumped. What could have happened? Why were they talking about
lawyers? This was moving much too fast. “Please. Tell me what’s going on. Is it
an emergency? Should we be going to my bakery?”

“No, not an
emergency,” Officer Brody said. “I have a few questions.” He turned his gaze to
Scott, clearly irritated at her neighbor’s presence.

“I’m not a
lawyer,” Scott said. “But with your permission, I’d like to listen in. If it’s
all right with Miss Eagan, of course.

“Yes, it’s
all right.” Ashley backed into her apartment. “And I’m going to make some
coffee, if that’s all right, too.”

Officer
Brody nodded. Inside, with better lighting, Ashley took a closer look at him.
He took off his hat revealing a boyish face that went with his carroty red
hair. He might be a little older than he looked, but he was still young. And on
edge. Pale beneath his freckles. Decidedly uncomfortable. New to the job? From
the glances he kept shooting at Scott, she figured the officer wasn’t quite
sure what to make of him. That was all right. Neither was she.

“We can talk
in the kitchen.” Without waiting for a response, she stepped to the counter.
Taking a calming breath, she scooped beans into the hopper of her coffeemaker,
adjusted the paper filter, filled the reservoir with water, and set the carafe
in place. The whining growl as the machine went through the grinding phase gave
her another moment to collect her thoughts. Which was stupid, because her thoughts
were worst-case disasters, and she certainly didn’t want a collection of them.

The grinding
stopped, and the water entered the chamber. The aroma of coffee wafted through
her kitchen like expensive perfume. After getting three mugs from the cabinet,
she retrieved a plastic container of chocolate fudge cookies she’d baked for
the police station and arranged a few on a plate. Coffee and chocolate. A
perfect combination. Get rid of the cop standing at attention on the other side
of her island, and it would be a picture of heaven. But right now, it was more
like the road to hell.

Meanwhile,
Scott and Officer Brody still had that alpha dog thing going. Men. Why was it
always about them?
She
was the one with the problem, or there wouldn’t
be a cop in her kitchen. If it was trivial, he’d have done whatever it was cops
did by now. Instead, he stood there, clearly uncomfortable. Trying to be
patient.

She turned
and attempted a smile for the officer. “I guess you haven’t met Scott yet. He
works at the police station, you know.”

Scott seemed
to relax, but not all the stiffness in his posture disappeared. “I just
started. I’m on mornings, so our paths haven’t crossed.”

Brody looked
at Scott more closely. Recognition, then a wide grin spread across his face. “Whelan.
Scott Whelan. Right. From County. I’d forgotten they said you were joining our
department.” He extended his hand. “Greg Brody. Welcome. Pleased to meet you.”

Scott’s
rigid posture returned. He gave the briefest of handshakes. “That’s right. And
I’m strictly a civilian now.” His eyes narrowed, his lips flattened, completely
rejecting Officer Brody’s friendliness.

Officer
Brody looked like he’d been slapped. Scott seemed hard. Almost angry. Certainly
not the southern gentleman she’d spent part of a day with.

“Have some
cookies,” she said, pushing the plate across the counter between the two
posturing men. Alpha dogs.
Sheesh
.

Scott
continued to glare at Officer Brody, who averted his gaze. Neither touched her
offerings.

“The coffee
will be ready soon.” She took a cookie, in case it was one of those ladies
first things. She took a bite, but the usual pleasure from tasting one of her
creations was gone, and she might as well be eating something from a generic,
store-bought box. She set the rest of the cookie on a napkin. “Officer Brody,
why don’t you ask your questions?”

He slid his
gaze to Scott, then pulled out a notebook and pen. He squared his shoulders and
his demeanor turned formal. “Miss Eagan, where were you this afternoon, let’s
say from four o’clock until now?”

Scott
hitched the damp towel tighter around his hips. If he had any brains, he’d go
home and change, but he couldn’t see Brody waiting for him to get back. At
first, Scott had pegged Brody for a rookie, not sure how to approach Ashley.
But rookie or not, Brody seemed even more nervous than he should for a routine
questioning, and Scott wondered if his own presence had anything to do with it.
From the sidelong glances Brody kept sending him, maybe it did.

Was Brody’s
discomfort nothing more than having someone sitting in on an interview? Or more
about having an ex-cop sitting in? Or was it because Brody considered him more
than an ex-cop?

Lose the
ego trip, asshole.

Over a beer
last evening, Kovak seemed to have accepted Scott as a fellow cop, taking him
down from that ridiculous pedestal. Why should Scott assume Brody had him up on
one as well? The guy was green. Any cop with more experience would have him on
edge.

No matter.
Ashley—or any citizen, Scott tried to tell himself—deserved an impartial set of
eyes and ears during questioning. Even if those eyes and ears were half-dressed
and fresh out of the Jacuzzi.

“Please,
sit,” Ashley said. She motioned to the stools at her counter, and making the
first move, she sat. She flashed him a brief semblance of a smile, as if
acknowledging that he wouldn’t sit unless she did. And another flash of what?
Understanding? Sympathy? A look that said “I know you’re probably hurting.”

Scott felt
more comfortable with his lower half hidden beneath the counter, even though he
did have trunks on under the towel. And although the Jacuzzi had eased the
stiffness, sitting was easier than standing. Easier to concentrate on Brody’s
questions if he wasn’t distracted by pain. And after hearing Brody’s opening
question, Scott definitely wanted to give the man his undivided attention.
Thankful the stools were padded in vinyl, Scott settled his damp bottom into
the one next to her, leaving the third for Brody in case he wanted a seat. As
expected, however, Brody remained standing.

Brody
repeated his question, and Scott waited for Ashley to respond.

He and
Ashley had parted ways right around the time in question, so he didn’t know
where she’d gone. She seemed to think for a minute. A little hesitation was
good. Nobody actually remembered a minute-by-minute account of their day.
People who gave them had usually rehearsed them, knowing they might be needed.
And offered alibis before anyone asked. Too much hesitation wasn’t good,
either, and Scott found himself holding his breath waiting for Ashley’s answer.

“I was at
the bakery until about four, I think.” She gestured toward Scott. “Scott was
with me then.”

Brody looked
to Scott.

Scott
nodded. “We were there. Along with half a dozen construction workers. And a
delivery from UPS, if you’re looking for verification. I’m sure their records
will confirm that she signed for a delivery, and at what time.”

Brody didn’t
say anything, but nodded and wrote something down. “And when you left. Were you
still together?”

Ashley shook
her head, and Scott got a whiff of some floral-scent. Her shampoo, no doubt.
Maybe he shouldn’t have picked this seat, where he kept wanting to touch her,
to reassure her that everything was all right. The fact that his leg brushed
against hers didn’t help, but he couldn’t bend it enough to avoid the contact.
Then again, she hadn’t moved away.

“No, I went
to Thriftway for supplies.” Ashley gave Brody a quick grin. “For you, actually.
I mean the entire station, not you specifically. I’m supposed to be providing desserts
for a party tomorrow.” She pointed at the cookies. “Those are some of them. I
was here baking and working on organizing my bakeoff. I went to bed around
midnight, and then—” She paused, looked at Scott, color rising to her face,
before returning her gaze to Brody. “And then you knocked on the door and woke
me up.”

“Nobody can
corroborate your story?” Brody said.

Scott bit
back a retort.

Ashley
bristled. “Story? I’m telling you what I did. It’s not a
story
. I was
alone. I was working on the computer, though. And I made a few phone calls.”

“Cell or
land line?” Brody asked.

“My regular
phone.” She pointed to the one on her kitchen desk. “Will that give you a way
to … corroborate my … my
nonfiction
accounting of my whereabouts,
officer?”

The perfect
touch of indignity, Scott thought. Exactly the way an innocent person would
react. Although he doubted Brody’s instincts were honed enough to detect the
subtle nuances during the interrogation of an accomplished liar, there was
nothing here to indicate Ashley was telling anything but the truth. And Brody
hadn’t mastered the art of the expressionless face yet, either. Scott would put
good money that Brody accepted her story. He suppressed a smile. Her
nonfiction
accounting.

And why did
he care that she’d kept her cool? He looked at her more closely. Clearly
dragged out of bed, her hair hanging in unruly tangles. No makeup, but her
brown eyes were bright, and as she chewed on the unfinished cookie she’d set
aside earlier, her tongue peeked out to capture any stray crumbs. He allowed
himself about a nanosecond to think about her tongue and those nice full lips
before she could distract him more than the aches in his shoulder and leg.

“Thank you,
Miss Eagan,” Brody said. “A couple more questions, and you can get on with your
day.”

Scott didn’t
miss the relief on Ashley’s face. He caught himself before he patted her thigh.

Brody
flipped to another page in his notebook. “Do you know Elaine Rathburn?”

Ashley’s
eyes widened. “I’ve done business with her recently, but I wouldn’t say I
know
her. Why?”

“What about
Felicity Markham?”

Scott
flashed to the altercation at Elaine’s studio. And what he’d asked Kovak to
research for him, which had nothing to do with Ashley’s bakery. His cop radar
pinged. “I think you owe Miss Eagan an explanation, Officer Brody. Why you’re
asking about these people. Unless, of course, you’re canvassing the entire town
looking for information about them.”

Brody
reddened slightly. A hazard of being a redhead, as Scott knew all too well. And
Brody was a true redhead, much more so than Scott’s own sandy hue. Couple that
with looking about twelve added challenges to being taken seriously. But, Scott
couldn’t help but note the kid was doing fine.

Brody
stiffened. “Please answer the question, Miss Eagan.”

Ashley
grabbed another cookie. “I’d say I know Felicity Markham about as well as I
know Elaine Rathburn. Although I haven’t done business with Felicity.”

Scott knew
where this was going, but he wasn’t going to jump in and mention what he’d seen
at Elaine’s studio. Let the cop do his job. To cover the fact that he almost
burst into laughter thinking about how he was doing exactly what he hated
witnesses to do, Scott reached for a cookie. Different being on the other side.
He bit into it. The rich chocolate hit him like a blanket of mellow. “Damn,
these are good. Brody, do yourself a favor and have one.”

Brody
reacted almost as if he were following orders. But when Brody sampled one,
Scott caught the pleasure in the young cop’s expression.

“They are
good, ma’am,” Brody said. “Excellent.”

Didn’t take
an experienced cop to recognize the pride in Ashley’s eyes.

“The coffee’s
ready.” She filled three mugs. “There’s a hint of coffee in the cookies, and
they should taste even better with a cup. How do you take yours, Officer?”

“A little
milk if you have it,” Brody said. He glanced at Scott, as if wanting
reassurance that it was okay to take a coffee break in the middle of
questioning someone.

Well, Scott
wasn’t a cop, and he didn’t question people anymore, and he sure as hell
enjoyed Ashley’s creations. But on the job, yes, he’d occasionally accepted
food offerings if it seemed to help put someone at ease. Instead of saying
anything, he helped himself to another cookie and sipped his coffee.

Ashley set a
small pitcher of milk and a spoon on the counter next to Brody’s mug. Exhaling
audibly, he poured some into his coffee and stirred, clearly organizing his
thoughts for his next step. Scott waited, torn between wanting to help a green
cop and wanting to make sure Ashley wasn’t subjected to any unnecessary stress.

Brody took a
sip of the coffee, then set the mug down and picked up his pen and notebook
again. “When’s the last time you saw either Elaine Rathburn or Felicity
Markham?”

***

Ashley set
her coffee on the counter before adding her usual milk and sugar so Officer
Brody couldn’t see her hands trembling. That question sounded way too much like
a cop show. The part where they were zeroing in on the murderer.