Perfect Fit (Serendipity's Finest 1)
“I take it we’re past the formality stage?” He followed her into the front entry.
“Unless you prefer we go back to the way things were, Chief? I could call you sir,” she offered with a deliberately saucy smile.
He narrowed his gaze, determined not to let her provoke him. “When we’re off duty, informal is fine.” He drew a long breath. “How’s Sam?”
“I’ve never met a more annoying patient,” she muttered.
“Which tells me he’s recovering?”
She nodded. “He’s in the den watching television. You know the way, so go on in.” To her credit, though she blushed, probably remembering the last time he was here, she held his gaze and didn’t flinch. “Can I get you something to drink? Soda? Water?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, thanks.”
A few minutes later, both he and Cara were seated near Sam, who looked a hell of a lot better here than in a hospital bed. “You’re not green anymore,” Mike said of his brother’s coloring.
“I’m better. And I’m antsy.”
“And it’s only been forty-eight hours, so relax yourself. You’re a couple of weeks away from being cleared to return to work, so chill.”
Sam muttered a curse. “I’ve got things to do.”
“Nothing that can’t wait. Cara can hold her own with Dare. Once you’re back, I’ll give him a rookie to train as his new partner.”
“Better him than me,” Cara said, curling her bare feet beneath her on the oversized chair in which she sat.
Pink toes peeked out from beneath her navy-blue sweats, which rolled at the top. A faded gray T-shirt, imprinted with the SPD logo, had been cut off, revealing a tantalizing sliver of bare skin between the frayed edge and the waistband of her sweats.
“Mike, quit mooning over Cara and pay attention; this is important.” Sam’s voice broke into his musings.
Son of a bitch, his brother hadn’t just caught him, he’d called him out. When Sam was better, Mike intended to beat the living crap out of him.
Cara’s face blushed a cute shade of pink. Mike figured his was maroon by now. “What?” he snapped, knowing he couldn’t admit or deny without getting himself in more trouble.
“We have a situation,” Sam said, his tone of voice more telling than anything else that this was big.
Mike sat up straighter in his seat. “What’s going on?” He looked from Sam to Cara.
She shook her head. “It has to come from Sam,” she said.
“You know how the mayor gave you a list of unresolved cases, especially those that involved the old Winkler place, and told you to do something about it?” Sam asked.
“Yeah. And I put you two on it,” he said to Sam and Cara.
“Right. Most of the open complaints about the Winkler place were tough to run down since nobody is willing to admit they visited that…umm, establishment.”
Mike still didn’t know where his brother was going with this. “I’m listening.”
“And I’m getting there. It’s not simple. Back in 1983, the cops pulled over a car on a random traffic stop. They found drugs, arrested the driver, and impounded the car. In the trunk they found ten grand in marked bills. The money and the drugs were locked in the evidence room until the feds could pick up the cash. Somehow it fell through the cracks, and the money’s still sitting there.”
Mike muttered a curse, and Cara laughed.
“Fast-forward some weeks,” Sam continued. “A women’s group began protesting the old Winkler Place.”
“The Best Little Whorehouse in Serendipity,” Mike said, using the nickname he’d learned as a kid.
“Right.” Cara waved a hand toward Sam, indicating he should keep talking.
“The group clashed with the people at the motel, the cops raided the place, and what did they find? The same type of marked cash, at which point it goes into evidence too. The hooker activity dies down for a while, the moms forget about the Winkler place, a new administration comes in, and lo and behold, the money sits and nobody takes another look. Over time, any activity at the Winkler place ended, and nobody was willing to discuss what really went down there.”