Julie Miller - Kansas City Confessions

“Don’t try to sweet-talk your way out of this. You owe me some answers. So what’s your story? No warm place for the night? Anybody looking for you?” The dog tilted his head and an ear flopped over, giving his face a sad expression. Trent turned on the wipers and shifted the truck into gear before driving toward the street. “Sorry to hear that. I’m a bachelor on my own, too. You can call me Trent or Detective. What should I call you?” When he stopped at the exit to the parking lot, Trent reached over the console to pet him. Pushing his head into the caress of Trent’s hand, the dog whimpered in a doggy version of a purr. “All right, then, Mr. Pup.” He pulled onto the street. There wasn’t much traffic this time of night, so it was safe enough to take his eyes off the road to glance at his furry prisoner. “Did you see anything suspicious at the theater tonight?”

The dog barked, right on cue.

When Trent moved both hands to the steering wheel, the mutt put a paw on his arm, whimpering again. Trent grinned and scratched behind the mutt’s ears, loving how the dog was engaging in the conversation with him. “Tell me more. I like a witness who talks to me. I think you and I are going to get along.”

His interrogation skills were intact.

Now if he could just get a certain brunette to tell him what the hell had panicked her tonight.

Chapter Three

Trent was a man on a mission when he stepped into his boss’s office at the Fourth Precinct building. Lieutenant Ginny Rafferty-Taylor was out somewhere, but he’d spotted Katie going in earlier and wanted a few minutes of face-to-face time with her before the morning staff meeting started.

Instead of asking a pointed question about last night’s phone call, however, he paused, unobserved, in the doorway as she dropped to the floor.

“Where did I put that stupid pencil?”

He did a poor job of keeping his eyes off the bobbing heart-shaped curves of Katie Rinaldi’s backside as she crawled beneath the conference table in search of the accursed writing instrument. Thank goodness Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor was nowhere to be seen, because he was failing miserably at professional detachment. He stood there like a man, not a cop, admiring the view, savoring the stronger beat of his pulse until Katie’s navy blue slacks and the mismatched socks on her feet disappeared between two chairs.

With temptation out of sight, Trent’s brain reengaged and he swallowed a drink of his coffee. The hot liquid burned a little more common sense down his throat, reminding him that he was at work, the fellow members of KCPD’s cold case squad were gathering in the main room outside with their morning coffee and case files, and Katie had made it clear that—no matter how she twisted up his insides with this gut kick of desire—she only wanted to be friends.

I love you, Trent. I always will. But I’m not in love with you.

Man, had that been a painful distinction to make.

He’d felt an undeniable pull to this woman since he was fifteen years old and she’d moved in with her aunt across the street from the home where he’d grown up. Although he’d been a jock and she’d been into the arts, proximity and a whole yin and yang thing of opposites attracting had played hell with his teenage libido. When she’d gotten pregnant their senior year, his idealistic notions about the dark-haired beauty had dimmed. But when she disappeared, and he’d played a small role in helping her get safely home, an indelible bond had been forged between them, deeper than anything raging teenage hormones could account for.

After her return, she’d talked him into singing in a musical play with her and he’d discovered he liked driving her back and forth to rehearsals and hanging out with her. They’d dated a few times their senior year of high school. Well, he’d been dating, hoping for something more, but Katie had always pulled back just when things were getting interesting.

She didn’t mean to be a tease, and had always been straight with him about her feelings and concerns. It just wasn’t easy for her to trust. He understood that now better than he had ten years ago. She’d grown up with an abusive father, witnessed her mother’s own murder at his hand. She’d survived a kidnapping, but lost the good friend she’d been trying to help when she’d gotten involved with the kidnappers in the first place. She’d had an infant son before graduation and had to learn about being a mother.

Katie had every right to be cautious, every right to insist on standing on her own two feet, every right to protect herself and her son from getting attached to someone who’d thought he was going to make a career for himself in another city. She wouldn’t risk the stability she provided for Tyler. She wouldn’t risk either her or her son possibly getting hurt. He’d admired her for her stubborn strength back then. Still did. Understanding why she wouldn’t give them a chance, Trent had accepted the dutiful role of friend and gone off to play football in college and take his life and dreams in a different direction. Some dreams died or morphed into other goals. He’d come back to Kansas City, come home to be a cop.

He might be a different man than the teen he’d once been. But the rules with Katie hadn’t changed. One wiggle of that perfectly shaped posterior, one flare of concern that all was not right in her world, shouldn’t make him forget that.

Besides, a man had his pride. Yeah, being built to play the defensive line made him a little scary sometimes. But he wasn’t completely unfortunate in the looks department. He had a college degree and a respectable job, and his parents had taught him how to treat a lady right. He didn’t have to pine away for any woman. He dated. Okay, so a lot of those dates—like Erin Ballard last night—had been set up by Katie herself, but he could get his own woman when he had to. He’d even been in a couple of long-term relationships. It wasn’t as if he was a saint—he enjoyed a woman’s company.

Trent drank another, more leisurely sip of coffee, cooling his jets while he remembered his purpose here. He anchored his feet to the carpet, bracing himself. From the grumbling sounds beneath the table, Katie was on a tear about something this morning. A civilized conversation might not be possible. But he’d gotten information from less cooperative witnesses in an interrogation room. He just had to stay calm and make it happen.

A chair rolled across the utility carpet as she popped out on the other side of the table. “You and I need to talk,” Trent stated simply.

Her head swiveled around and her blue eyes widened with a startled look, then quickly shuttered. She knew he was talking about last night. But she blithely ignored the issue between them. “I have to find that pencil first.” It was hard to feel much resentment when her bangs flew out in a dozen adorable directions after she raked her fingers through the dark brown waves and stood. “It’s the second one I’ve lost today. I don’t have time for this. I’m making my presentation to you guys this morning and—”

Trent tapped the back of his neck, indicating the bouncy ponytail where an orange mechanical pencil had been speared through her hair.

She buzzed her lips in a frustrated sigh and pulled the pencil from her hair. “Thanks.”

He stepped into the room to keep their conversation private from their friends gathering outside the office. “You called me—”

“Trent, please.” Katie gestured to their team leader’s empty desk. “I have to get everything ready for the meeting before the lieutenant gets back.”

Fine. He’d ease into the questions he had for her. As long as he could get her talking to him. Trent glanced over at the empty desk where the cold case squad’s team leader usually sat. “Where is she?”