morning, she thought bitterly. What had he been doing then? Sizing up the situation?
She had to tilt her head back to make eye contact.
“Damn you, put her down!”
“Mommy?” Emily said, and began to cry.
“Put . . . my . . . daughter . . . down!” Abby demanded, punctuating each word with a fist to his shoulder.
Baffled, Luke lowered the little girl to her feet, then watched as she flung herself at her mother and clasped her skirt.
It was the same pair, the kid and the brunette from this morning. The woman had looked cool then, almost icy. Now her face was flushed. Strands of hair had escaped from the combs that held it back from her temples and curled against her cheeks. She was glaring at him; the kid was sobbing . . . .
What in hell had he done to deserve this?
“Take it easy, lady,” he said.
“Take it easy? Take it easy? You try to—to steal my little girl—”
“Whoa! What are you talking about?”
“I saw you try to take her.”
Luke took a step back. “Listen, lady, I don’t know what your problem is, but I didn’t—”
“I saw the whole thing. You—you—” She caught her breath and shoved the child behind her. “But you won’t get away with it.”
Luke blinked. Backpacking through the Wonder Mountain Wilderness one time, he’d come face-to-face with a black bear and her cubs. The look in the bear’s eyes had been the same as the look in the brunette’s. Hurt my baby, the look said, and I’ll rip you apart.
A four-hundred-pound bear was a tough adversary, but even though the woman facing him probably didn’t weigh much more than a quarter of that, he knew he’d rather face the bear. The bear had seen him as a threat to her cubs. The woman saw him the same way, though he’d be damned if he knew why. Still, he tried to see the situation from her viewpoint.
Luke held up his hands, palms out, and tried for the tone he’d learned on the streets his first months on the job, the one meant to convince a nut coming at you with murder in his eye that you weren’t the enemy.
“Easy,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what you think is happening here, but just calm down, okay?”
Calming down didn’t seem to be on the agenda, not for the fire-breathing brunette or the kid, who began to wail. Luke heard another couple of little sobs from behind him, which caught the interest of some of the passersby, enough so they stopped to join the growing cluster of gawkers.
Just what he needed, Luke thought in disgust, and shot a glance over his shoulder. The teacher had gathered the children in front of her. The sobs were coming from a little boy whose face had gone so pale his freckles stood out, and a little girl whose braids were tied up with blue ribbon, same as the kid hanging on to the brunette.
All of them, teacher, kids, the boy with the freckles and the girl with the braids, were staring at him as if he’d just dropped in from the one hundred and fiftieth remake of Friday the 13th.
Great. Just great. No doubt about it, this was definitely the textbook approach to blending quietly and unobtrusively into the background.
Who’d have believed it? He was here to find out who was fencing jewels in the Emerald City Jewelry Exchange. Instead, he was being accused of child molestation or kidnapping or who knew what by a woman who was clearly a certifiable psycho. Cops had to deal with crazies as part of their job, but until now, the crazies he’d dealt with all had that otherworldly shine in their eyes.
The only thing shining in this woman’s eyes was fury.
Nine years of on-the-job experience dealing with people who were in direct contact with talking dogs and creatures from the planet Mongo kicked in fast.
“Listen,” he said, as calmly as he could manage, “I can understand your concern.”
The woman snorted in disbelief.
“Honest, I can. But I think you’re making a mistake here.”
“You saw Emily this morning.”
“Emily,” he said, trying for a smile. “Is that her—”
“Don’t give me that innocent routine! You saw Emily this morning!”
“Well, yes,” he said, working at keeping it together, “I guess I did, but—”
“And then you watched the center, saw my baby come out the door, ran over and—and grabbed her!”
“That’s not what happened. Your little girl ran into me. I didn’t want her to fall down, so—”
“Marilyn,” the woman said, her eyes never leaving his, “take the children inside and dial 911.”
Luke almost groaned. That was all he needed to make things perfect. A patrol car showing up. Odds were that whoever caught the call would recognize him.
And even if he got lucky and they didn’t blow his cover, he’d never live it down. Detective Luke Sloan couldn’t handle a good-looking brunette who stood no higher than his chest without making a bunch of kids cry their hearts out . . .
Jesus.
He knew how stuff like that went. Cops would be talking about it every time somebody mentioned his name, just the way he and Dan had talked about Rutledge this morning.
“No,” he said quickly, “don’t do that, Marilyn.” He took a breath, forced a smile. “Look, I can understand your concern, Mrs . . . .”
“Don’t you try and placate me!”
“I’m simply saying I understand why you might be upset. In today’s world . . . ” He shot a look at the kid. She was peeking out from behind her mother, hanging on to her skirt and looking as if she expected him to bare a set of fangs any second. “What I’m telling you,” he said carefully, wanting to avoid specifics because he still didn’t really know what was going on, “is that whatever you think I was doing, I wasn’t.”
The brunette’s mouth thinned. And why wouldn’t it? If a suspect made that kind of statement to him, he’d guarantee the guy was guilty.
“I mean, I don’t know what you think was going on here, but—” He paused. “Actually, now that I think about it, I do know what you think was going on, but I assure you—”
“You were taking my little girl,” the woman said. Her voice quavered. “That’s what was going on here.”
“No,” Luke said again, even more adamantly. “Try listening, okay? I just told you, I was coming through the gate, your kid ran into me, and—”
“I was running toward my mommy,” the kid said defiantly. “Not you.”
“Okay.
