a groan. “Kent’s reporter is already a problem.”
Erin Powell at the Lakewood Chronicle was determined to paint the department, but most especially Sergeant Kent Terlecki, the department’s public information officer aka media liaison, in the worst light.
“Why did you approve her application for the academy?” Chad wondered. He would have asked about the reporter’s admittance earlier, but he had been preoccupied with another member of the CPA.
Paddy shrugged. “I left it up to Kent.”
So Chad wasn’t the only one who had erred in judgment.
“Anyway, I need you to pull some traffic stop footage for me,” Paddy continued.
“I can pull the footage,” Chad agreed, “but I don’t have to be there to show it.”
“Yeah, you do,” the watch commander insisted, “in case anyone has questions.”
“With the reporter in the class, Kent should be the one answering all the questions.”
“Maybe that’s the reason he shouldn’t,” Paddy reasoned. “Did you read today’s paper?”
“Not yet.”
“Don’t waste your time,” Paddy advised him. “Hopefully Kent hasn’t seen it, either.”
“I’m sure he has.” Chad doubted the public information officer missed any of Powell’s articles.
“Then that’s another reason you’re not going to want to miss this week’s class,” Paddy predicted.
“Okay, I’ll be there.” If only for moral support for his fellow officer. Chad glanced at his watch and noted that he had some time before the night-shift briefing.
A few minutes later, he stepped out of the stairwell onto the second floor where the offices were located. He intended to talk to Kent, but another voice drew his attention—a fast-talking, feminine one.
“And you don’t have to worry about one-eight-hundred numbers and automated answering services. You’ll have my cell number and can reach me directly, any time day or night, if you have any problems,” Tessa Howard assured the chief as the older man walked her out of his office. “Not that you’ll have any problems. I’m sure you’ll find our Internet and phone service much more reliable than your current carrier.”
“I’ll have to look over your proposal, Ms. Howard,” Chief Archer stalled as he tapped a finger against the folder in his hand. “Then let you know my decision.”
“I’ll be here later this week for the citizens’ police academy,” she said. “I can come in early and check with you before the class starts.”
“That’s right. You’re a member of the academy,” Chief Archer said with a smile of obvious pride in the department.
“Not by choice,” Chad chimed in, unwilling to let her use the CPA as a selling point. Wearing a short skirt and tight jacket again, she could have been in another type of profession. The lady was not above using any of her assets to get what she wanted, as he recalled from her shameless flirting during the traffic stop. “Well, actually I guess the judge did give her a choice—the academy or another speeding ticket.”
“Hello, Lieutenant,” the chief greeted him while Tessa just glared.
Chad ignored her and turned toward his boss, who was also a good friend. A year ago Frank Archer had joined Chad’s unofficial club of widowers. Misery didn’t quite love company but at least appreciated it. “Chief.”
Archer studied him and Tessa, his brow furrowed in deep thought. “It appears you already know Ms. Howard.”
Chad nodded. “Yes, I know Ms. Howard.”
“Humph,” Tessa said and murmured, “He only thinks he does.”
“Then perhaps you two should get to know each other better,” the chief suggested.
“No!” the protest slipped through Chad’s lips.
“That’s not necessary,” Tessa said, leaving Chad to wonder if she referred to his reaction or to his getting to know her better.
The chief’s brow furrowed more, and he shook his head. “Well, can you at least see Ms. Howard out?” Without waiting for a response, Archer ducked back inside his office and closed the door, leaving Chad alone with Tessa.
He glanced from the chief’s closed door to the one next to his that belonged to Sergeant Terlecki. Chad had come upstairs to offer Kent a word of support, but instead he wrapped his fingers around Tessa’s wrist and steered her toward the elevator.
“Thanks a lot,” Tessa said with total insincerity as irritation—not his touch—heated her blood. She shook his hand off her arm. “If you hadn’t come along, I would have talked him into signing up.”
He chuckled as he reached for the Down button of the elevator. “I don’t think so.”
“Why?” Pride lifted her chin. “I’m good at my job.”
The elevator must have been waiting because the doors slid open instantly. His hand touched the small of her back now, guiding her into the empty car. “I don’t doubt that you’re quite the saleswoman,” he said.
Somehow she felt insulted rather than complimented. “What are you implying?”
“Just that you’re not above using your wiles to get what you want—a contract—” he arched a dark brow “—or a free pass on a ticket.”
“Well, you didn’t give me a free pass.” Which didn’t say much for her wiles since he hadn’t been a bit interested then—or now.
“And the judge didn’t give you a free pass, either,” the lieutenant said. “Despite your recent attempt to sweet-talk him.”
Heat rushed to Tessa’s face. “Uh…”
“The judge e-mailed to warn me that you’re trying to get out of the academy,” Chad said, his voice sharp with disapproval. “Interesting that you weren’t above using your participation to score points with the chief, though.”
“I am participating,” she said. Because she hadn’t been able to talk the judge into changing her punishment. She’d even offered to pick up trash along the highway instead.
“But not of your own free will, like you wanted the chief to believe.”
“What are you—the sales spiel police? Do you take exception to everything I do or say?”
“Only when it’s not the entire truth.”
“You sound like you’re my father,” she said, not that she had a lot of experience with what a father sounded like. Hers hadn’t stuck around long; he hadn’t even waited for her to be born. But then, given her mother’s taste in men, that might have been a good thing; some of her siblings’ dads had stuck around too long.
A
