Her Detective's Secret Intent

Tad didn’t want to scare Miranda, but his first priority was to keep her and Ethan safe. His first call as soon as he got on the road to Miranda’s place that morning had been to Chantel Fairbanks. In short, distinct sentences, he’d told her everything he knew.

She’d been on board immediately. It had been her decision to have Miranda take Ethan to school as usual. She’d assigned an officer who’d be positioned with Ethan in sight until further notice. Until Tad could talk to Miranda, and maybe after that, they were going to act as though Jeff Patrick was in town, looking for his chance to snatch his family back.

While he’d been sitting around the corner from Miranda’s house, waiting for her and Tad to leave for school, keeping his eyes on the place at all times, he’d emailed Chantel the documents he had on Miranda. He’d slid the SIM card into his phone only long enough to do that and then returned it to an inside pocket of his wallet. Chantel had already begun a full investigation of Miranda’s past.

He followed Miranda into the car lot, parking directly behind her, and, with a hand at her back, walked her inside.

“How much would it cost me to rent a car for a few hours?” he asked the older guy behind the counter drinking coffee and eating a doughnut. “I’ll leave you the keys to both of ours, sitting out there...” He nodded toward the lot. Put his keys on the counter and asked Miranda to do the same.

She clicked to unlock her car first, saying, “I need to get my bag...”

Tad flashed his detective badge, a North Carolina detective badge, while Miranda had her head turned toward her car. The badge wasn’t technically valid in California, but he didn’t figure the guy was going to know that.

“Cost you nothing,” the older man said, handing him a set of keys. “As long as you return it in a coupla hours, not wrecked and full of gas. We’ll call it a test drive.”

Yeah. He could’ve just asked to take a car on a test drive. Might have if he hadn’t been surging with adrenaline.

Not the good

kind.

It was a warning to get himself in check. He had to be a cop first.

Their ride was a newer-model lowest-end Cadillac. Blue.

“I need my bag,” Miranda said again, going for the hatchback on her car rather than the front seat where he’d assumed she would’ve left her purse.

Watching the area for anyone who might be watching them, Tad hoped that whoever was following Miranda, if anyone really was, assumed she was on her normal routine. That this person wouldn’t know she wasn’t until he cruised by the clinic and saw her car missing.

He noticed that she was fooling with the spare tire on her car.

“You need help?”

“No! No,” she said, shoving her hand into the front pocket of her scrubs, as though she’d hurt it and didn’t want him to see. “I accidentally pulled the tire up when I went for the bag.” The duffel had been hidden in the wheel well. He pretended not to notice that he’d noticed. With a quick side trip to the front seat, she got her purse, and put both in the front passenger seat of the Cadillac.

The guy with his doughnut had been watching them the whole time. Let him think he was taking Miranda to a quickie at a motel. Tad didn’t care.

On the road again as quickly as possible, away from cars that might be known to them, he drove back into town and straight to the police station.

Frowning, Miranda looked at him. “We’re going to the High Risk Team meeting?”

He shook his head, leaning over to kiss her on the lips. He was sure the move was completely inappropriate and equally sure he had to do it.

Her lips lingered on his, kissing him back, and when he pulled away, he said, “Trust me for a few minutes longer and then you’ll be fully in the know.”

She nodded.

And he hoped to God he hadn’t just had her trust for the last time.

Or kissed her for the last time, either.

* * *

Miranda knew her way around the police station. She’d been there many times in her scrubs, as she was that Tuesday morning. She’d planned to be there later that morning, for the team meeting. And it felt weird as hell, being shown, with Tad, into a different area. One she’d never seen before. Various desks dotted the room, and as Tad approached one in particular, Chantel stood up.

She greeted Miranda with a smile, and then said, “You can use this room right over here. It used to be a storeroom, but it’s become a place where we can go for quiet conversation among ourselves.”

Ushering them into a room with a couple of worn tweed couches in black and beige stripes with scarred wooden legs, and a single equally scarred coffee table, Chantel closed the door behind them.