Love by Association

“Speaking of which, I’m still a little worried about him seeing you out and about like this. Or anyone else from that group seeing you, for that matter.”

She laughed. “You didn’t even recognize me at first when you saw Chantel Johnson.”

“True.”

“In the rare chance that anyone from that crowd would happen to be in the lowly places Chantel Harris inhabits, they’re going to see a beat cop in uniform and pass right on by. Or, if I’m off, a woman in jeans and hiking shoes who doesn’t know the first thing about hair, makeup or class. But you know as well as I do, in the time I’ve been here, the times I’m in public out of uniform are pretty rare.”

“I know. Maybe I can pay a visit to the doctor who saw Julie that night. And since we have no records, I’d need you to get his name for me, too.”

“I’m sure I can do that.” She felt better already. The world wasn’t sitting completely on her shoulders. It never was. She just had a bad habit of trying to hold it there, anyway.

“You’ve got to be careful, Chantel. You can’t do any police work on this Julie thing—other than having Chantel Johnson ferreting out any information she can. Let me do all of the legwork. We can’t have Fairbanks getting suspicious about you. It would blow your cover and then the whole Morrison assignment is blown.”

And her career right along with it. Not that her career mattered one whit in comparison to Leslie’s and Ryder Morrison’s lives.

“So...you want to go with me when I talk to the commissioner?”

A waitress came to ask if she could remove any dirty dishes or bring drink refills. Wayne waved her away, his expression dead serious. “I don’t think we should go to the commissioner just yet.”

Shocked, she felt sick all over again. Wayne? Above anyone else, she’d trust him with her life. Which was saying a lot.

And then she shivered and started to sweat. “You don’t trust the commissioner,” she whispered. Then she told him about Patricia Reynolds’s new appointment to the library committee.

She started to breathe freely again when Wayne said, “I trust the commissioner. And I’d bet my life’s savings that Mrs. Reynolds is on the committee in case you need help. She’s a financial supporter of The Lemonade Stand and was a proponent of the police being involved with the High Risk team from the very beginning.”

Okay. Good. Chantel’s world righted itself again. Facing down a gun she could do. Finding corruption in the man who was a god to her and all of the men and women who served with her wasn’t something she wanted to think about.

Not that she wanted to believe that any of the men and women who were part of the Santa Raquel police force could be bought.

“We don’t have enough to take him yet,” Wayne continued. “When we do this, we have to be careful. Very careful. We have no idea who might have been involved. Who might still be involved. No idea what careers we might jeopardize, and I sure as hell don’t want it to be my own. Or yours.”

“You’re thinking someone higher up might know about this already.”

“It’s a possibility we can’t ignore. Which is another reason we can’t get Fairbanks suspicious. You said you thought there might be some connection between Morrison and what happened before. And Fairbanks is friendly with Morrison. He might not know where the leak, if there is one, is coming from. If we’re going to pursue this, we have to keep it strictly between you and me.”

What he said made total sense. She didn’t like it, but she knew he was right. “Okay, but we tell the captain, right?” He was their go-to on the assignment.

When Wayne shook his head one more time, Chantel realized just how deep this assignment had taken her.

She wasn’t a member of a team right now. Not part of the brotherhood that had become her family. Except for Wayne, she was completely and totally on her own.

With no one to run to. And no one who had her back.

She had to call Max. Just in case.

CHAPTER TWELVE

AS SOON AS his flight landed, when everyone around him was turning on cell phones, texting and calling their people, Colin thought about calling Chantel. He didn’t, of course. They weren’t at the text-as-soon-as-you-land point in their relationship. He’d never been at that point in a relationship.

But he was thinking about it now.

His plan was to call her on the way home. And then he’d text Julie. His sister would be in LA, having lunch with a couple people on the Sunshine committee—hoping to get their support for her child-life specialist project at the Santa Raquel Children’s Hospital—but she always wanted to know when he was back in town, which she defined as back in Santa Raquel.