Linda Wisdom - Small-Town Secrets

Cole chuckled. “Definitely. You gotta love an easy confession like that.”

“It did make it a lot easier for us,” she admitted.

“I would think Warm Springs would seem pretty quiet after the fast pace in L.A.,” he commented, looking up to smile at Annie as she set their plates in front of them. As always, his hamburger was grilled to perfection, the sauteed mushrooms on top of the meat finishing the work of art. The onion rings were golden brown and crispy. “Marry me, Annie,” he begged.

“The day I say yes is the day you’ll hotfoot it out of town,” she hooted.

“That’s what you eat every day?” Bree asked curiously, as she sprinkled salt on her French fries.

He shook his head. “Only on Wednesdays. I believe in a varied diet. So tell me, how long did you work for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department?”

“I was with the department for twelve years, the last three in homicide.”

“I guess Warm Springs seems pretty tame after all the excitement you had in L.A.,” he commented.

Her smile rivaled that of a shark moving in for the kill. “Sometimes what looks tame on the surface isn’t. I’ve heard that can happen in small towns.”

Damn, he should have known better than to underestimate the lady. It was as if she knew exactly what he was leading up to. But would she accuse him of chasing shadows that weren’t there?

She pushed her plate to one side so she could rest her arms on the tabletop. She fixed him with a steely gaze that had prompted more than one suspect to confess all. “Cut to the chase, Becker. Why are we sitting here having this conversation? No BS, either.”

“I’m just making conversation,” he drawled, falling back into the good-ole-boy routine that had lulled more than one subject he’d interviewed in the past. And gotten him some good quotes in the process. “I like to write up an accurate article. There’s nothing worse than a sheriff’s detective ticked off because I spelled her name wrong.”

Her verbal rejoinder to his glib reply was succinct and to the point.

Cole’s grin was slow to appear, but earth-shattering to the senses. “Damn, woman, I like your style. Something tells me you’re going to give this town the kind of shake-up it needs.” He leaned back, resting one arm across the back of the bench seat. He cocked his head to the side, watching her with piercing eyes that seemed to probe past any defenses she might erect.

Her return smile would have scared off a great white shark. “Lordy, Becker. Compliments like that will only go to my head,” she purred.

Cole looked stunned, but quickly recovered. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but waited until after Annie paused by the table to see if they needed anything.

“During your time in homicide, did you ever have a funny feeling about a case? Something that just didn’t feel right?” Cole asked when they were alone again. “A feeling that what was in front of you wasn’t what it should be? That while everyone else said it was fine, you knew deep down it wasn’t?”

Good. The lady looked intrigued.

“That’s not unusual for any good cop,” she said with a hint of caution in her voice. “When you’ve been on the job long enough, you learn to follow your instincts.”

“Even if it means stirring up trouble?” he pressed. “What if there’s an excellent chance that there’s someone from your own department involved in something illegal?”

She returned his gaze with an equally bold one of her own. “Then you do what you have to do. Just because somebody wears a shield doesn’t mean they’re exempt. Your job is to arrest the bad guys,” she said candidly.

“No matter who it is?”

“No matter who it is,” she repeated.

Cole shrugged. “The mind-set of a police officer is interesting. You not only have hard and fast rules to follow, but you need to follow your instincts, too.”

He noticed she absently placed her hand against the back of her neck, as if something bothered her.

“So what are you not telling me, Becker? What conspiracy do you believe has cropped up in Warm Springs?” Her emerald eyes glittered. “I’m sorry, I haven’t read your newspaper long enough to know what your views are—if you think aliens are landing in the desert or a wild coyote boy is living out there.”

Cole didn’t miss the mocking implication.

“Why don’t you eat your lunch first. Then we’ll talk.”

“I hope this doesn’t mean I don’t get dessert,” she murmured, as she picked up her sandwich.

Cole finished his hamburger in record time. With every bite he kept an eye on his companion, as she, too, ate with relish.

Bree Fitzpatrick wasn’t what he’d expected. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t met more than his share of female detectives, some of them downright gorgeous. But there was something about her that fascinated him.

When he’d learned the city council had hired a new detective, he’d been curious about what kind of officer they’d chosen. He hadn’t expected Detective Fitzpatrick to be a widowed mother of three, two of them teenagers. He thought he’d meet a hard-nosed cop who’d worked toward her twenty years on the force and looked every one of those years. A woman no one in his right mind would want to cross. He would hazard a guess that no one in his right mind would cross this woman, and for all Cole knew she was a hard-nosed cop. But there was more to her than that. He’d say Bree Fitzpatrick was made up of more than grit.

He also hoped she had good instincts.

“Dessert?” Annie asked cheerfully.

Bree looked past him so she could read the brightly marked board on a wall.

“Pink lemonade pie?”

Annie nodded. “You’ll love it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Coconut pie for me, my love,” Cole said.

Annie rolled her eyes. “As if you’d ever have anything different.” She moved away.

“It sounds as if you’ve dug yourself into a rut,” Bree commented. “Maybe you should shake things up a bit yourself by ordering something different next time.”

“Maybe I will.”

Bree looked at the chalkboard set next to the dessert board. She read the brightly colored words and laughed. Customers using cell phones in here will be treated with the same courtesy as anyone lighting up a cigarette.

Next to the board were two hooks. A squirt gun hung from the first and a waterfilled, clear plastic bucket hung from the second. A cell phone rested in the watery depths.

“The cell phone belongs to a businessman who’d stopped for lunch and didn’t believe the sign,” Cole said, noticing her interest. “He threatened to sue until he discovered he wouldn’t have a chance of winning, since the sign is up where everyone can see it.”

“I’ll remember to keep mine turned off,” she murmured, as the waitress dropped off their desserts.

Bree quickly discovered that pink lemonade pie was something very close to heaven even if there wasn’t one hint of chocolate in it. She finished the rich pie in no time and knew she’d be back for more.

Cole waited until she ate her last bite before he spoke. “Tell me something, Bree. Have you ever thought an accident or suicide could have been a homicide? Did you go even further and try to prove it?”

She looked intrigued by his question. “Any reason for asking?”

“Curiosity.”

Bree silently regarded him. He kept his expression blank.

“There have been times when something hasn’t seemed what it is,” she said finally.

“What if you were the only one who saw it? How do you handle that kind of situation? Do you go along with what’s already been determined, or try to make things right?”

Her expression tightened. “What’s important about any case is that it’s closed properly. I do whatever it takes. So why don’t you tell me exactly why you’re asking me this?”