A front desk situated behind glass in the lobby spanned one side of the building with a wall separating it from the officers’ desks; a holding cell took up the complete other side. Burned coffee emanated from a small kitchenette down the hallway in which they’d just stood.
Upstairs held administrative offices, including the chief’s domain. As the town grew, thankfully so did the budget. There were fifteen officers employed right now.
She’d just dropped the files on her desk when a chirpy voice waylaid her.
“Girl, we need to talk.”
Eloise turned to find Brandy Cummings resting a curvy hip on the side of the desk. In her midtwenties, she’d been hired fresh out of college, taking over the crime scene investigation position Eloise had vacated when she’d become a detective. Brandy was eager, smart and knew every detail of what went on in the department, official and personal. Eloise admired that. Physically, Brandy was the exact opposite of Eloise’s willowy shape and studious demeanor. And yet despite their different approaches to the job—hers methodical and well thought out, Brandy’s spontaneous but effective—Eloise wasn’t surprised when they’d become good friends.
“I overheard Lieutenant Chambers on the phone talking to someone about the sergeant position.”
Eloise glanced around them. “You know you shouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Listen in on private conversations.”
Brandy swiped a nonchalant hand through the air. “You need to know. He mentioned your name.”
Her heart accelerated.
“And Dante Matthews.”
And then came to a screeching halt.
“Dante? I’m surprised. The lieutenant doesn’t like Dante.”
“That’s for sure.” Brandy chuckled. tossing her thick, black hair over her shoulder. “Chambers calls him a danger and a disgrace. I swear I’ve seen his eye twitch when Dante’s name is mentioned.”
“That’s harsh.” Even if the danger part rang true.
Brandy shrugged. “Which means you’ll get the promotion.”
“I don’t know,” Eloise hedged. Even though she wanted the job. More than anything.
The rumors of the promotion had been circling the department for weeks, especially since they had yet to fill the sergeant position left open by a recent transfer. She’d passed the civil exam without a problem, made sure Chambers was informed of her grade and made her desire to be considered for the position known, then secretly kept her fingers crossed that she’d be offered the chance to move up in rank. She’d been on the Palm Cove police force for four out of her six years as a police officer, a detective for two, and hoped her experience weighed into the decision making.
“Chambers respects you.”
Eloise straightened the files and other office supplies positioned on her compulsively neat desktop. “That’s because I do my job and get my reports in on time.”
“And you work well with everyone. You’re good at supervising and making decisions.”
“So is Dante.” She remembered his earlier request. “Well, everything but desk duty, that is.”
“Yes, but you are the complete opposite of reckless.”
She stilled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“No. I mean, I’ve learned a ton from you. But sometimes you have to think outside the box. Dante has that ability in spades.”
Eloise frowned. “I could be reckless.”
Brandy burst out in a merry laugh. “Oh, honey.”
“Really, I could,” Eloise fumed. “Watch me.”
Brandy merely patted her on the arm and strolled away to start a conversation with a patrol officer who’d just walked in.
Who was she kidding? She plopped down into her chair.
Reckless was not a word she’d use to describe herself. She always had to push herself out of her comfort zone, especially since becoming a cop, and she was extremely proud of herself.
Now she had a chance to move up the ranks. Make a name for herself. Show her parents she’d made the right decision by forgoing a career in academics, like they’d wanted, and pursuing a degree in criminal investigation. A job she loved, with a possible promotion in her future.
The phone on her desk rang. She picked it up on the third ring, infusing an authoritative tone into her voice. “Detective Archer.”
“Eloise, it’s Tom Bailey over in Palm Beach. Got a minute?”
“Sure.”
She’d run into Tom, also a detective, at different police functions, since Palm Cove, located on the east coast of Florida along the Atlantic, was twenty miles north of Palm Beach. Actually, she’d applied to the Palm Beach PD when she’d sent out résumés, but Palm Cove had offered her a position first. Maybe one day she’d consider moving, but she liked it here and had the promotion to consider.
“We picked up a teen the other night. Lives in your area. Pulled him over while joyriding in a stolen car.”
Teen car thefts were a growing problem. Auto theft was bad enough, but the underage drivers usually crashed while the police were in pursuit. It seemed they got at least half a dozen calls a month from folks who’d discovered their cars were stolen.
“So what do you need from us?”
“It’s not really what I need, more of a heads-up. We’re cracking down on the problem here and hope we can share information in the future.”
“You know I’m happy to work together. This isn’t a problem that’s going away anytime soon.”
“I figured you did the research.”
How could she not? She’d had multiple cases on the offense, but what made it frustrating was that the underage kids were sent to juvenile detention, then released within hours or a few short days, only to become repeat offenders. Bragging rights could be found all over social media, which the department monitored, with kids posting pictures with key fobs around their necks like trophies or snaps of the speedometer when these kids drove in excess of one hundred miles per hour down the road. Worst-case scenario was if one of the kids found a weapon in a car they’d stolen, an added prize that propelled the legend they’d spread online.
“Have you noticed an increase in activity?” she asked, wondering about a possible connection. In Palm Cove, stolen cars tended to be more midpriced than high-end, but still, people weren’t happy when their mode of transportation disappeared. Worse, when the vehicle was found after a wreck, the owner had impound and insurance hassles ahead of them.
“There’s a small uptick.”
“Okay, well, I’ll keep you informed if I learn anything helpful.”
“Great. So, ah, are you attending the Maniacal Mudder charity run this weekend at Soldier Park?”
“I don’t think so.” She tried to attend police benefits in the surrounding cities, but didn’t always make every one, especially those that included running. Or mud. Who got enjoyment out of scaling obstacles while trying