None with headlights at least.
He eyed his silent companion. “Mind if I turn on the radio?”
Nicole’s head barely moved in a brief glance. “Go ahead.”
Tuck turned on the power, drove with one hand and fiddled with the radio with the other, trying to pick up a station. After a few minutes he gave up. “There’s nothing but static.” The car was an inexpensive blue sedan, and apparently the radio was a weakly powered model.
Driving the dark road, Tuck’s thoughts turned to his last session with Dr. Keaton. I’m not going to preach to you, Tuck. You’re going to have to deal with your conscience in your own way. You did nothing wrong, and that’s what you must come to accept. He had answered, I did nothing illegal, Doc. She had slowly nodded her understanding.
He understood, too, which relieved none of the tension in his gut. What else could he ever be but a cop? And yet he couldn’t see himself back on the street and dealing with the myriad problems he’d previously faced so confidently.
This trip, this witness protection job, was eating at him. He shouldn’t have let Joe talk him into it. He didn’t want to protect anyone. He wasn’t wearing his gun, although he had it with him, tucked under his seat on the floor of the car. Joe had described the job as “cushy,” and maybe it would be. He’d been to northern Idaho once before and liked what he’d seen. Certainly it was different from southern Nevada, with lush, green-forested mountains and numerous lakes. Beautiful scenery, unquestionably. And the chance of Lowicki and Spencer tracking Cheryl so far north, once they discovered there was a witness who could unequivocally tie them to the murders, was slim to none.
But spending weeks with a woman he didn’t know, nor had any desire to know, was damn disturbing. He really hadn’t thought about the witness’s gender when Joe first brought up the subject, assuming, obviously, that they were talking about a man.
Well, there was nothing manly about “Cheryl King.” She was pure woman, every inch of her, and some exotic scent wafted his way every time she moved.
She wasn’t moving very much, he had to admit. It was as though her gaze was glued to the windshield. In the dash lights, her silhouette was board-stiff.
Tuck sent her a more open glance. “You don’t like this, do you?”
Nicole started, as though coming awake. “Pardon?”
“This whole setup. You don’t like it.”
She looked at the man behind the wheel. “No, I don’t like it.” She studied Tom for another moment, then returned her eyes to the road. “Have you done this before?”
“Not exactly,” he admitted.
“Scott said you have experience in all phases of law enforcement.”
“I’ve gone undercover before, just not to this extent. Doubt if too many people have gone to this extent,” he added dryly.
“I keep wondering if it’s really necessary,” Nicole said with some bitterness. “I’m probably going to lose my job over it.”
Tuck sent her another glance. “What do you do?”
“I’m the purchasing agent for the Monte Carlo.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Well, don’t be. I’ll probably have to start over as a clerk.”
Tuck’s lips tightened. He could lay all sorts of lies on her, but the fact was that right now no one could predict the outcome of this case.
“What I don’t understand,” Nicole said in that same bitter tone, “is why they’re sending me so far away. Why not L.A.? Or Phoenix? At least we wouldn’t have to drive for days.”
“We’ll be there before tomorrow night,” Tuck answered.
“Meaning you’re planning to drive straight through. Great,” Nicole said disgustedly. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do for twenty-four hours than ride, ride, ride.”
Tuck sent her a cold glance. “You probably have a right to gripe, but I don’t want to hear it. Complaining isn’t going to do one damn bit of good. And it won’t take twenty-four hours. Something under twenty is more like it.”
Nicole sat up straighter and gave this unsympathetic, incompassionate jerk a really good look. At the house she’d been so harried and confused she had barely acknowledged their introduction and only vaguely registered his appearance. Staring hard in the faint light from the dash dials, she saw a profile that looked cut from granite, with just about the same amount of warmth.
She’d had her fill of officious, overbearing behavior. From the moment she had made that call to Detective Harper about what she’d seen the night of the Buckley murders, someone had been breathing down her neck, telling her what she could and couldn’t do, mercilessly replanning her life—frightening her away from windows, for God’s sake—praising her courage one minute and in the next acting as though she hadn’t a brain in her head or wouldn’t know how to use it if she did.
“If you don’t like complaining, you’re the wrong man for this job,” she said with all of the anger she’d been feeling for days now, anger that she had repressed with great effort. “I will complain about anything and everything that rubs me wrong, Tom King, or whatever your name is, and I don’t particularly give a damn how you take it. I’m not here because I want to be and…”
“And you think I am?” Tuck shouted suddenly. “Well, think again!”
They fell silent, each of them startled by how quickly and fiercely their anger had flared. But though Nicole became slightly calmer, defiance was running through her veins, hot and heavy.
“If you didn’t want this job, why did you take it?” she questioned acidly. “Or was it forced on you?”
Tuck smirked. “There’s all kinds of force, lady. All kinds.”
“And I’m sure you know them all,” Nicole drawled with exaggerated sarcasm.
“Because I’m a cop?” Tuck laughed humorlessly. “I’m surprised a solid citizen like yourself would make disparaging remarks about cops.”
“I was speaking of only one cop, Mr. King. And while we’re being so nice and friendly with each other, let’s stop one portion of this ridiculous charade. My name is Nicole Currie, and I will not answer to Cheryl.”
Tuck muttered a curse. “I’ve got a damned good notion to turn this car around and drop you off on Joe Crawford’s doorstep.”
Nicole’s chin came up. “Why don’t you do that, Officer King? I’m sure Captain Crawford would welcome us both.” Her voice became less strident. “Tell me your real name. I can’t stand this cloak-and-dagger idiocy. For this thing to work, we’re going to have to trust each other. I’ve trusted you with my real name, and I would appreciate the same courtesy from you.”
Tuck drove on, saying nothing for a long time. Nicole finally turned away with a long-suffering sigh. “This is going to be a miserable experience, and I pray to God our association is extremely short-lived,” she said wearily.
