Joan Kilby - Protecting Her Son

A bell over the door tinkled as they entered the air-conditioned ice-cream parlor.

A blonde fiftysomething woman behind the counter had a ready smile for Riley. “How did you enjoy the casserole?”

“Um, yeah, it was great,” Riley said, scratching the back of his neck. “Paula, this is Sandra, my stepmother. Paula’s my partner,” he said to Sandra. “She has a craving for pistachio.”

“I don’t—” Paula started to protest then got distracted by the twinkle in his eye. Hmm, maybe she did have a craving. But she would have to be satisfied with a frozen treat. Her awareness of him was growing, no doubt due to spending hours sitting in the squad car together. She would have to be careful not to encourage him.

Sandra handed Paula a waffle cone piled with three fat scoops of pistachio ice cream. “Complimentary to Summerside police officers.”

“Thank you.” Paula took a lick and her eyes closed briefly. “Heavenly.”

Sandra began to construct a second cone for Riley at his instruction—raspberry, butterscotch and licorice. “Are you all settled in at the house?”

“That’s a way off. Tonight I’m going to start tearing apart the kitchen.” He was nodding at the display of fresh cakes and pastries under glass covers on the counter. “You’re selling desserts now.”

“The new owner wants to expand the fresh-food line,” Sandra said.

“New owner?” Riley’s eyebrows rose. “Shane Kennedy has owned this place since I was in high school. Never thought he would give up such a prime location.”

“Apparently he was offered a price he couldn’t refuse,” Sandra said. “It was all very sudden. I didn’t even know the shop was up for sale.”

The bell above the shop tinkled. A teenage boy with blond curly hair and a pretty dark-haired girl in school uniform entered holding hands.

“I’ll let you go,” Riley said to his stepmother. “Catch you later.”

“Thanks again for the cone,” Paula called.

Outside Paula lapped at the cone to stop the rapidly melting ice cream from dripping onto her hands. “It’s a bit undignified, don’t you think, for cops to be eating ice cream on the street corner?” She couldn’t conceive of doing this in her city precinct.

“The locals are used to it. But let’s go sit.” He started walking toward the grassy square and a wrought-iron bench beneath a shady gum tree.

Paula sank onto the slatted seat. For a few minutes she concentrated on her cone, enjoying the cool sweetness of the pistachio confection.

“You have a bit of ice cream…” Riley touched her nose.

She batted his hand away and fished in her pocket for a tissue. “Have I got it all?”

He pretended to scrutinize her, his eyes amused.

“Never mind.” She threw the remains of her cone in a nearby bin and wiped her fingers.

“Feeling better?” Riley was sober now.

“Yes,” she said warily.

“Good.” He looked away, at the row of shops and cafés, post office and supermarket, then at her. “Suppose you tell me what you meant by déjà vu.”

Paula stilled. Pedestrians walked through the little park but she couldn’t have said whether they were male or female, young or old. She knew Riley had picked up on her muttered comment. He came across as laid-back but he was always on alert.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure…”

“Maybe I can help.”

She studied his intelligent eyes, his determined jaw, his sensitive mouth. “Maybe you can. I think I know who’s behind the crystal meth we found in the Holden.”

“Who?” Riley prompted.

“Nick Moresco, the drug lord I put in jail seven years ago.”

CHAPTER FOUR

RILEY KNEW IT, knew she’d been hiding something earlier. Her doubling over hadn’t been due to the heat but to the drug cache itself. And maybe to its discovery in Summerside. She’d gone quiet while they’d documented the haul, her mouth pulled down in a grim expression. Did she still have connections to Moresco? Was this why John was worried about her?

She was innocent until proven guilty, Riley reminded himself. “What makes you think Moresco is involved?”

Paula gripped the iron slats on either side of her knees. “He got out of prison last month.”

Riley thought about that. “Didn’t he operate out of the inner city? Why would he come all the way to the peninsula to set up shop?”

She shrugged, eyes down. “I don’t know.”

Riley was no detective but he’d been trained in interrogation techniques. He could tell when someone was lying. The rumors about Paula came to mind. She’d done something so bad that it couldn’t be talked about.

“A woman and her two children were almost wiped out today by a sleazebag shooting a light. If Moresco has something to do with the drugs in that car, and if you know something, you’d better tell me about it.”

“I can’t be positive the crystal meth came from him. I’m only speculating. But—” She glanced up. “He called me the day I started at Summerside P.D. He has my phone number. He knows where I live.”

No wonder she’d been tense. Riley lifted his cap and dragged a hand through his hair. “What did he want?”

Again she hesitated. Riley got the feeling she was choosing her words carefully.

“He…didn’t say. Maybe just to scare me. Maybe he wants revenge.” She straightened and scowled at Riley as though he were the villain. “He’d better look out before he tangles with me again.”

Riley studied her, frowning. One minute she was hesitant and uncertain, the next minute she was full of bravado. Was she hiding her own wrongdoing, laying the groundwork for a cover-up by admitting Moresco had called her? Or was she simply justifiably anxious because a drug lord was contacting her?

“Have you told John? If you’re in trouble, the police force will back you up.”

She gave him a look that was part scorn, part pity for his naivety. “Yeah, right.”

“What happened seven years ago to get you busted back to uniform?” Riley asked. “You reacted strongly to the hazing. Did you get caught pilfering drugs from the evidence room? Are you an addict?”

“No! Are you nuts? I would never do drugs.” She was really angry now. “My father was killed by a junkie while he was trying to resuscitate the man’s girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Riley sat back. “I’m sorry. Was he a doctor?”

“Paramedic.” Her shoulders squared. “I went into policing so I could bring creeps like the one who killed my dad to justice.”

“Then what did you do?” He returned to his initial question. “Why has your past followed you here?”

“I don’t talk about it. I made that clear to John. What’s done is done.”

“But it’s not, is it? Not if crystal meth is showing up in our sleepy little town because you’re living here.”

She shrank away, her face pale and drawn.

“You need me to watch your back?” Riley said. “I need to know what I’m watching out for. A soldier doesn’t go into a dangerous situation without intel. His mates wouldn’t let him.” He hardened his voice. “So what’s the story?”

“I’m not required to divulge that information to you, or anyone.” She got to her feet. “I’ve got to go. My son is waiting for me.”

Riley watched her stride off. Was she really bent, as rumor had it? Why else would she have moved from station to station? In a long, deep-cover investigation sometimes the line between good guys and bad guys blurred. Boundaries shifted, cops began to see the law from the dark side. Maybe she had money problems. A cop’s salary wasn’t that great. Undercover vice cops were vulnerable to all sorts of illegal temptations besides drug use. Taking bribes, selling drugs or protection, tampering with the evidence. She had definitely overreacted to the bag of sugar in her locker.