Dangerous Games

Cole released her arm.

She remained standing where she was. “You want to see me.” It wasn’t quite a question as it was an astonished statement.

“Yes.”

Her eyes never left his. “Not your brother.”

He’d learned the value of planning things out. He wouldn’t have been where he was if he hadn’t. There were arrangements to be made. “I’ll see him after I talk to you.”

She shifted to the side, allowing several uniformed policemen to pass and enter the building. “Why?”

“Because I hear that you’re not satisfied.”

Rayne blinked, drawing a complete blank. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not satisfied that Eric committed the murder. That he did what they arrested him for.”

The pieces pulled themselves together. For a second there, when he’d said satisfied, her mind had leaped to an entirely different set of circumstances. Because she wasn’t satisfied. Her life was good now, far better than it had been for many turbulent, troubled years, and her family was the best she could ever hope for, having stuck by her when even archangels would have bailed. But she was haunted by the feeling that there was something more out there.

She wasn’t sure just what, only that it was something. And even though it had no shape, no name, not even a vague definition, that feeling called out to her.

Rayne was quick to rally together her thoughts. “I’m really not the one you should be talking to,” she pointed out. “I’m not handling the case. I wasn’t even the first officer on the scene.”

That had been Richard Longwell, a patrolman she’d been through the academy with. They still maintained a friendship, although distant now since she had surpassed him by becoming the youngest detective on the force. It had driven an unspoken wedge between them.

The case belonged to Webber and Rollins, both of whom were very territorial when it came to their cases. “I can point out the detectives—” she began to offer, turning toward the entrance.

He cut her off. “No.”

“No?” She was lost again. The man persisted in not making any sense.

This time, Cole moved so that his body blocked her immediate exit. He didn’t want to talk to the first officer on the scene or the detective handling the case, at least not yet. Because facing them alone, he would be given the polite but disdainful treatment accorded to all family members. As far as the police saw him, he was the brother of a murderer. No matter what kind of a picture was painted for the public at large, once the police had a suspect, the burden of proof was on the accused’s side. The accused had to prove he was innocent.

Cole needed someone involved, but not in the middle of it. He needed someone at least partially sympathetic to his cause. Which had brought him to a former hippie/wild child.

“No,” he repeated firmly. “I want to talk to you.”

They waltzed around in circles and as gorgeous as this dance partner was, she had a desk to get to and overdue reports to file. “At the risk of repeating myself, why?”

He gave her the same reason he’d just cited. “Because I heard that you don’t believe Eric did it.”

She’d done a little discreet nosing around on her own since Eric’s arrest less than a week ago, but she certainly hadn’t made her feelings public. As far as she knew, only her family was aware that she wasn’t on board with what the D.A.’s office believed.

Unless the man was into mind reading, there was no way he could have known.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “And just where did you hear that?”

He waved a dismissive hand at her question. “That doesn’t matter—”

“Oh, but I think it does.” Her voice was deceptively calm. She didn’t like not knowing things, especially when they concerned her. It irritated her beyond belief, chafing her like a stiff tag sewn into the back of a shirt.

His eyes darkened impatiently. “I don’t have time to argue.”

“Well then you’ve come to the wrong place,” she informed him, “because my family tells me that I could argue the devil out of his pitchfork, if only in the interests of his own self-defense.”

Cole did the unexpected. Rather than make a derogatory comment or utter an uncensored remark about what others referred to as her infuriating behavior, he smiled.

He smiled and she had the exact same reaction she’d had that very first time when she’d collided with him in the lunchroom. Butterflies. Big, fat butterflies with enormous wingspans that fluttered and tickled the edges of her entire inner structure with every movement.

For all intents and purposes, for a tiny instance in time, she was fifteen again. Fifteen and a veritable outcast, self-made or not, from every scenario life had to offer including the one that involved her own family. The only normal path she took was to have a crush, a crush that was born that day, only to die ignobly several weeks later when she’d overheard Cole making a comment about her to a friend of his. He said she looked like a clown. And she’d felt utterly and completely devastated, not to mention angry and humiliated. It took a long time for a phoenix to rise out of those ashes.

Funny what the mind chose to remember. She hadn’t thought about that moment in maybe nine years or so.

“Did I say something funny?” she challenged, her cool evaporating slightly as the memory of that day grew a little more vivid.

“Under any other circumstances, I’d pay to see a demonstration of that,” he told her. “But right now—”

“Your brother’s under arrest for murder and your parents won’t put up the one million dollars to bail him out,” she concluded. “Not exactly the Brady Bunch, are you?” God help her, but for one moment she felt smug. Her family would have never subjected her to the kind of public humiliation that Eric’s had heaped on him. They would have sold the house before they’d allow her to languish in jail one extra minute.

He laughed shortly and this time there wasn’t a hint of amusement. “More like the Addams Family without the humor.”

The smugness vanished and she felt sorry. For Eric.

“Wow.” The word escaped. She hadn’t expected Cole to be this honest, especially not with someone who, high school alma mater aside, was a complete stranger to him. “So what exactly is it that you want from me—” she glanced at her watch “—other than making me late?”

“I’d like to talk to you when you get off duty.”

“All right, fine, but I really can’t help you,” she warned. “It’s not my case.”

“So you said.” His mind jumped ahead to a meeting place. Somewhere she’d feel at ease. He needed to win her over. “Do they still have that Mexican restaurant on 4th and Silver?”

“El Rancho Grande?” For a second she’d forgotten that he hadn’t been around all these years. The restaurant had closed down after a fire had gutted it almost eight years ago. “It’s gone. There’s a Chinese restaurant in its place now. The China Inn.”

Cole smiled again. He’d traveled over most of the lower forty-eight states. Whenever he came into a new city, one of the first things he’d do was find the best Chinese restaurant. It was a weakness he allowed himself.

“Even better. When do you get off?”

She was taking off early today, as she’d promised her father. Rayne didn’t feel like sharing that with him. It was too personal. “How does six sound?”

“Earlier would be better,” he told her honestly, “but six’ll do.”

She nodded then looked toward the electronic doors significantly. “It’ll also be impossible if I don’t get in there to start my shift.”

He moved out of her way, then followed her up the stone steps. Rayne found herself struggling with an uneasy feeling that had no name, no reason for existence. It was the same kind of feeling she had when something was about to happen. But there was no stakeout here, no reason to want someone watching her back. She didn’t get it.

Cole waited until she made it through the doors before walking in behind her. “Who do I talk to about seeing my brother?”

“That would be the desk sergeant.” She pointed the man out to him.