Julie Miller - Kansas City Confessions

“The lieutenant got called into Chief Taylor’s office for an emergency meeting. She said she’d be back in time for the team briefing.”

“Emergency?” That word and news of an impromptu meeting with the lieutenant’s cousin-in-law, aka the department’s top brass, wasn’t something a cop wanted to hear at the beginning of his shift. He eyed the other members of the team through the glass window separating Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor’s office from the maze of detectives’ desks on the building’s third floor. Max Krolikowski, his partner, along with Jim Parker and Olivia Watson, stood together chatting, apparently as unaware as he as to what the emergency summons might be. Katie’s frenetic movements weren’t exactly reassuring. “Any idea what’s up?”

“Not a clue.” She unplugged a cord, inserted a zip drive and pulled up a file on her laptop. When she looked up at the dark television screen at the opposite end of the conference table, she groaned and circled around the table to fiddle with the TV. “It’s not my job to keep track of every bit of gossip that comes through the KCPD grapevine. The lieutenant was heading out when I came in. She told me to go ahead and set up for the staff meeting. So, of course, the wireless connection is on the fritz, and I had to track down extra cords. Then I realized I left one of the files in my bag and hadn’t uploaded the pictures yet, so I had to go back for that. And now the stupid TV—”

“Take a breath, Katie.”

“ You take a breath,” she snapped, spinning to face him.

“Really? That’s your witty repartee?”

“I mean...” Her eyes widened like cornflowers blooming when her gaze locked on to his.

Accepting the remorse twisting her pretty mouth as an apology, Trent crossed the room to inspect the closed-circuit television. He tightened a connector on the side of the TV and turned the screen on for her. “There. Easy fix.”

“Thanks.” She bent over her laptop, resuming her work at a more normal pace. “I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to say. I was going on like a chatterbox, wasn’t I?”

“There’s something buggin’ you, I can tell. But it’s just me, so don’t sweat it.”

“I’m not going to take advantage of your cool, calm collectedness. You didn’t come to work so you could listen to me vent.”

“But I do want to hear about last night.”

She arched a sable-colored brow in irritation. Okay. Too soon to press the subject. Just keep her talking and eventually he’d get the answers he needed.

Trent reached around her to set his coffee and notebook in front of the chair kitty-corner from hers. Although Katie was of an average height and curvy build, she’d always seemed petite and fragile. It didn’t help that she’d kicked off her shoes beneath the table, while he’d tied on a pair of thick-soled work boots this morning to shovel his sidewalks, blow the snow off his driveway and walk the dog he’d taken in around the block. Despite her uncharacteristic flashes of frustration and temper, and the static electricity that made the strands of her ponytail cling to the black flannel of his shirt, she seemed pretty and dainty and far too female for the cells in his body not to leap to attention whenever he got this close to her.

“You seem a little off your game this morning.” He spoke over the top of her head, backing away from the enticement of making contact with more than a few wayward strands of hair. “You know something about the lieutenant’s emergency meeting that you’re not telling me?”

“Nope. She was business as usual.”

“Is Tyler okay?”

“He’s fine. I swear.” Katie tilted her gaze up to meet his, confirming with a quick smile that that much, at least, was true. Then she went back to work on her laptop. She swiped her finger across a graphic on her screen and loaded the image of several mug shots up onto the larger screen. “I guess he’s a little ticked at me. There’s this stray dog that he’s gotten attached to running around the theater this past week. He wants a dog so badly, it’s at the top of his Christmas list. But our landlord won’t allow pets. I mean, the dog is friendly enough, but he’s skin and bones. I feel so bad for him, especially in this weather. Apparently, Tyler’s been feeding him.”

“A tan dog with a white stripe around his neck?”

“Yes. How did you...?” Her cheeks heated with color as she tilted her face up to his. “You went to the theater last night. I told you everything was fine.”

Trent propped his hands at his waist, dipping his head toward hers. He matched her indignant tone. “No, you told me you’d handle whatever it was. If everything is fine, you wouldn’t need to handle anything.”

“Well, I don’t need you to rescue me every time something scares me.”

“What scared you?”

She paused for a moment before waving off his concern and turned back to her computer. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then give me some straight answers. Something hinky was going on outside that theater. Either you saw something, or you at least suspected it.” He wrapped his fingers around the pink wool sleeve of her sweater and softened his tone. “Something that scared you, and that’s why you called me.”

She hesitated for a moment before shrugging off his touch. “You were on a date.”

“The date was over.”

“Because of me?” She turned in the tight space between the table and chair, her forehead scrunched up with remorse.

He tapped the furrow between her brows and urged her to relax. “Because I wanted it to be.”

She batted his hand away, dismissing his concern. “Trent, I don’t have the right to call you whenever I need something. I’m not going to wimp out on being a strong woman and I don’t want to take advantage of our friendship. We shouldn’t have that you’re-the-guy-I-always-call-on kind of relationship, anyway. You need to...find someone and move on with your life.”

“I’ll make my own decisions, thank you. I call you when I need something, don’t I?”

“Sewing a button on your dress uniform is hardly the same thing.”

“Look, you and I know more about each other than just about anybody else. We’ve shared secrets and heartaches and stupid stuff, too. That’s what people who care about each other do. Now—as a friend who doesn’t appreciate phone calls that make him think something bad has happened and he needs to drop everything without even taking a shower and speed across town in a snowstorm—”

“You didn’t—”

“—I need you to tell me exactly why you called last night. And don’t tell me you were frightened of that sweet little dog, who, incidentally, is spending the day at the vet’s office while the Humane Society is checking to see if he’s been reported missing.”

Her eyes widened again. “You rescued the dog?”

“You wouldn’t let me rescue you. Now answer the question. What scared you last night?”

“Nothing but my imagination. I’m sorry I worried you. The dog’s okay?”

She changed topics like a hard right turn in a high-speed chase.

Trent shrugged. This woman always kept him on his toes. “I fed him some scrambled eggs and gave him water. He spent the night whimpering on a blanket in my mudroom, but he didn’t have any accidents. Don’t know if he’s housebroken or just too scared he’ll get into trouble and get dumped out someplace again. I took him to the vet’s this morning for a thorough checkup and a much-needed grooming. My truck still smells like wet, stinky dog.”

“Thank you.” Her lips softened into a beautiful smile. When she reached out to squeeze his hand, he squeezed right back. “Thank you for saving him. I wanted to, but I’m not sure Tyler would understand having to take him to a shelter instead of taking him home.”