was the sort of man any smart woman watched out for. Handsome enough to make Taylor look like a toad, sexy enough, too, but lacking in charm, and adorable simply wasn’t in the vocabulary that applied to him. He was dark. Hard. Dangerous.
And, according to Jen, if not already on Taylor’s payroll in more ways than one, soon to be. No matter how handsome and sexy, a corrupt cop…she just couldn’t stomach that.
“Do you have a plan?”
Jessica laughed. “Yeah. Getting the groceries out of this heat and into the kitchen while Officer Mitch sears to a crisp in the parking lot.”
“Taylor has him watching you.”
“Bingo.” Jessica turned into the Sand Dollar, slowed to about five miles per hour and drove to the rear of the building.
“You can’t search for anything with him watching you.”
“I can start inside the apartment, though I’m pretty sure he and Taylor have already checked it out.” He’d refused to confirm or deny it over breakfast, but it stood to reason. Jen had been missing; they were cops. Knowing that Taylor had been inside the apartment Jessica was temporarily calling home, touching things that she was touching, looking at the clothes she was wearing, was creepy. Knowing that Mitch had created an inappropriate sensation all its own.
“Listen, I’m home and Officer Mitch is pulling in beside me. Give me a call later.” She disconnected and climbed out before he’d had a chance to shut off the motor. She opened the apartment door first, the metal hot enough to burn, then carried two handfuls of bags inside to the kitchen counter.
When she turned, he was blocking her way, sunglasses off and the rest of the bags in his strong grip. She swallowed hard, her chest tight, backing up until the refrigerator stopped her and giving him access to the countertop.
She’d been right about the sweat dampening his hair and his shirt—right that hot and sweaty was a good look for him. Of course, the way he’d gotten hot and sweaty could make it an even better look, she thought, then chided herself. He was the enemy, remember? It was a given that everyone who worked for Taylor was on his side. Trust no one, Jen had intoned, and she hadn’t laughed when Jessica had. She’d been deadly serious.
If Jessica didn’t keep her guard up, she could end up seriously dead.
He set down the bags, then retreated to the dining table, and suddenly she could breathe again. “Th-thank you.” For carrying in the bags? Or for giving her space? She didn’t know. Didn’t care.
He shrugged as if both his actions and her words meant nothing.
“Tell your boss I’m planning to spend the rest of the day at home, so you’ll be free to do your real job.”
Something flashed through his eyes—annoyance, perhaps. With her for being smug? Or with Taylor for assigning him to such a mundane task? “I don’t think he’s likely to take your word for it.”
“Well, if he makes you stay, at least you can stay inside. You won’t die of heat exhaustion. I keep it cool.”
Where had that come from? The last thing she needed was a cop hanging around while she looked for evidence that would incriminate his boss and quite likely him—and the last thing she wanted was more time in his company.
He gave her a narrow look, assessing, as if he might discover her ulterior motive for the invitation if he looked hard enough. Abruptly, though, he turned away. “The heat’s not going to kill me.”
It felt as if the statement was unfinished—but something else might—but that was all he said. With a muttered, “Later,” he left the apartment, and this time he closed the door behind him. A moment later, she heard the distant thud of her trunk closing. She walked to the window and peeked through the crack in the drapes and saw him leaning against a tree barely tall enough to support his weight in the tiny lawn next to her car, his cell phone to his ear, no doubt calling Taylor.
Now there was a conversation she would love to eavesdrop on.
She was still standing there, minutes after he’d ended his call, when another police car rolled around the corner. It stopped behind her car, and Mitch walked over to talk for a moment to the man behind the wheel. Then he got into his own car, backed out and drove away, and the new guy took his space, right next to her rental.
The guy was probably older than he looked—he looked about eighteen—and wore mirrored sunglasses above a scraggly mustache. He’d been with Taylor in the diner that morning, which meant he wasn’t to be trusted. What was the world coming to, some TV show character had once asked, when you couldn’t even trust the police to be honest?
Amen to that.
She double locked the door, closed that little gap in the drapes, then returned to the kitchen. Except for a few frozen dinners, most of her food purchases had been of the junk-food variety. She and Jen had been blessed with a good metabolism that allowed them to eat that way without worrying about their weight. There at the end, Jen had been spitefully pleased that Taylor tended to get fat if he didn’t exercise religiously and stay away from sweets.
What about Mitch? Those muscles hadn’t appeared out of thin air, but did he work out because he needed to or simply liked to?
“What does it matter?” Jessica asked aloud, loading her voice with every ounce of frustration. “He’s one of the bad guys, remember? Just this morning you were criticizing Jen for falling for a pretty face, yet you’re on the verge of doing the same thing.”
Letting out a low, annoyed growl, she turned, hands on her hips, to survey the living room. It was time to start searching. She knew Taylor’s men had already searched the apartment and had, presumably, found nothing. That meant one of three things: Jen had hidden it extraordinarily well, in plain sight or someplace else.
She had her work cut out for her.
Wishing she could open the drapes and let in the sun without the kid cop being able to see, she turned on every light in the room—and discovered the reason the lamps at either end of the sofa hadn’t worked the night before: they were unplugged from the wall. Jen had always unplugged things like hair dryers and can openers before leaving the house, believing they were fire hazards. With a faint smile, Jessica stuck the plugs back into the outlets and the lights immediately came on.
After plugging in the television, she tuned it to a music channel, then started her search. It was a good thing the apartment was so small. Because she intended to do a very thorough job.
“Is he in?” Mitch asked as he passed Megan. Without interrupting her broadcast, she nodded in the direction of Taylor’s office.
He wound between desks, passed the interrogation room and paused long enough for a sharp rap at the door before opening it and inviting himself inside.
Taylor leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach. “Well?”
After moving a stack of files from the lone chair that fronted the desk, Mitch sat down and made his report—every stop Jennifer had made, why and for how long. The only parts he left out were the ice cream and his helping carry in her groceries. There wasn’t any reason not to tell him about either. Mitch just didn’t want to.
That done, he said, “As long as
