“Any questions?” he asked brusquely, interrupting her thoughts.
Will you always hate me? Will all the other Tyler cops hate me, too? Will I ever see those incredible dimples again?
Aloud she said, “No, Lieutenant. Thank you. Good night.”
“Good night,” he said stiffly, his cautious movements revealing his pain as he edged through the far bathroom door.
It took Karen a moment to realize the significance of that simple act. He’s the boarder who lives next to me! she realized in dismay. We’ll be sharing meals and the same bath.
As she juggled the memory of his anger with the realization that such proximity would make it easier to uncover Bauer’s secrets for Harmon, Karen closed the door between her room and the bath, locked it carefully, then read the note beside her bed. It started personally:
Dear Karen,
I’m so sorry we were called away tonight, but we’ll be back in the morning to fix you up with anything you need. In the meantime, you can count on my nephew to make you snug as a bug in a rug.
Isn’t he adorable? He’s Tyler’s finest police officer and single, too. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted. We’re so glad to have you with us. Just make yourself at home!
Anna Kelsey
Karen fought back a lump in her throat. Mrs. Kelsey would never know how much it meant to her to know that one person in Tyler actually welcomed her. The officers she’d met at the Schmidts’ had made it clear enough that they’d all been hoping Brick Bauer would be their new captain. And Bauer himself—why the hell did he have to be so handsome, why the hell had he greeted her with that dimpled smile at the door?—was probably already making devious tactical plans to oust her.
Wearily she began unpacking all she’d need for the first few days: her uniforms, a warm robe, jeans, sweatshirts and sturdy barrettes to clip her waist-length braid flat against her head whenever she was on duty. At the bottom of the suitcase Karen found the one sentimental item that followed her everywhere: a framed eight-by-ten glossy of her father in uniform, taken shortly before his death. He was smiling, as he’d so often smiled in life, and she felt his faith in his only child buoy her now.
“I’ll do it, Daddy,” she vowed softly. “I’m going to make you proud.”
She touched his beloved face through the cold glass, then placed the frame on top of the desk, took her gun out of its holster and laid it on the nightstand near the flowers. Quickly she took down her hair, shed her heels and peeled off her panty hose. She was standing in her bare feet, still wearing her slinky black dress and empty shoulder holster, when she heard a knock on the adjoining bathroom door a moment later.
“Yes?” she asked as she opened it uneasily. Karen wasn’t used to such domestic proximity with a handsome hostile stranger. Maybe he’s come to clear the air, she told herself hopefully.
Belatedly Karen realized that she truly didn’t want to go to bed in a strange place with her housemate and second in command furious with her, whether he was guilty of a cover-up or not. There was a fifty-fifty chance this man was innocent of any wrongdoing, and besides, a skilled police officer ought to be able to maintain civil relations with another cop without divulging any secrets. Surely she’d displayed enough strength for one night! Now maybe she could set things right.
But the minute she found herself face-to-face with that square, bloody jaw and those blue eyes dark with rage, Karen knew it was way too late for reconciliation.
“Captain Keppler, there’s something I think you should understand,” Bauer stated baldly, his great size seeming to fill the room. “I’m damn proud to be a Tyler cop, and that’s never going to change. If you can’t stand to work with me—” his tone grew nearly feral “—you’re the one who’ll have to move on.”
BRICK REACHED the station house early the next morning eager to arrive before Captain Curvaceous started turning his life upside down. Actually, she’d already done that, he mused darkly as he recalled the painful dawn battle between his razor and his half-scabbed face. Fortunately, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Karen Keppler while he’d limped down to the basement and done a very cautious workout in a futile effort to limber up his battered back. Brick would have preferred to present himself to a new boss feeling his best, but the Keppler woman’s acrobatic tricks had already nixed that.
He didn’t think she’d last too long, but he knew she’d keep him on his toes until she threw in the towel. Last night’s sparring had told him that his nemesis was tougher than he’d expected the new female captain to be. But a woman cop was still a woman cop, which meant she was weak, unpredictable and not to be trusted.
Brick did not consider himself a raging chauvinist. In fact, he generally liked matching wits with women and found them to be as bright and capable as men in most professions. He didn’t even mind female dispatchers and file clerks in prisons and police stations. His objection was to women serving on patrol with male partners whose lives depended on them.
Partners whose lives were lost because of them.
In Brick’s view, putting a female in charge of a group of fighting men—and what was a police squad but a military unit?—bordered on ludicrous. And hiring one from another substation to replace the man who’d been groomed for the position for years was just plain insane.
It was also troubling, because Brick knew that Commander Harmon felt much the same way he did about women in uniform. In fact, a year ago Paul Schmidt had confided that whether Tyler became a county substation or not, Brick was a shoo-in for the captain’s job. Last week Brick had asked Paul straight out what had happened, and Paul had looked him in the eye and said he didn’t know.
Brick didn’t know, either, but now that he’d taken stock of Karen Keppler’s physical attributes, he didn’t think it was going to take too long to find out. The only question was what bigwig she was cozy with...and whether he’d used blackmail or favors owed to put pressure on the commander or somebody up the line.
When Brick arrived at the station at 7:23, a full half hour before his shift began, he was surprised to find one of Tyler’s dispatchers, Cindy Lou, cowering by the police radio. The young blonde looked a bit bedraggled this morning. She could have been sick—this time of year there were a fair number of colds and sore throats going around—but illness wouldn’t account for her hangdog expression.
“What’s wrong, Cin?” he asked, taken aback by her uncharacteristic sobriety.
“I was over getting a cup of coffee when Clayton and Franklin called in,” she told him miserably, not even meeting his eyes. “It was just a doughnut stop, so I went ahead and put a spoonful of creamer in my cup before I came back over here and called back. By that time she had grabbed the mike and barked out a bunch of numbers I didn’t understand. She told me never to leave my post unless there was somebody else to cover me. Then she marched in there and slammed the door.”
Cindy Lou pointed to Paul Schmidt’s office, a place that Brick had once considered a source of warmth and strength. Now it was inhabited by a virago.
“I’ll talk to her, Cindy,” he volunteered. Serving as a liaison between the boss and the underlings had always been part of his job, but it hadn’t been all that taxing while Paul was in charge. “She’s new here and a bit high-strung. After a while she’ll figure out the way we do things in Tyler.”
Cindy Lou, who’d