A fine drizzle fell outside. She settled him into the passenger seat of her Bronco and hurried around to the driver’s side. Kate started the engine and rolled out of the lot, letting the flip-flop of the windshield wipers calm her nerves. What a mess she’d gotten herself in tonight. Life had just become immensely more complicated thanks to the angry, wounded cop in the passenger seat next to her.
“You do know you’re in the middle of my investigation?”
She gave him a sideways glance and refocused on the road. “I didn’t know cops liked to hide out in car trunks. You’re in the middle of my repo job.”
“A man’s got to get creative. You picked a bad night to take his ride.”
“Some ride.” Kate killed the lights as she made the turn just short of the house. “No sense getting him fired up.” She cut the engine, rolling the last twenty feet. She’d learned to be quiet and invisible. “There it is.”
The single bulb over the house numbers still burned in the darkness. The bathroom light shone at the side of the house.
“Just like I left it. He’s probably in his crib, sleeping like a baby.
“How did you find this place?”
“My boss gave me the information.”
Mick pulled his pistol out of his waistband and checked his rounds. “Who is this boss of yours? Has he got a name?”
“I don’t give out that information.”
“You will.” He snapped the cylinder shut. He’d catch Otis in his bed, arrest him and take him downtown. Any leads he’d have gotten with the tracking device in place were gone now, but he had her. It wouldn’t surprise him if she knew more than she was telling.
The pain in his side had turned to a dull ache. He’d been in rougher shape a couple of times, but he’d never been assaulted by a Robear. Certainly not by a female one who was short on details and long on looks. He hadn’t even known the strange breed existed, until tonight. “Stay here.”
He climbed out of her Bronco and stood still, listening to the sounds of the night. The rain had stopped, but there was a dampness in the air that penetrated through his skin. He turned the collar up on his jacket. It had been a long time since he’d been in the bayou without the sun overhead. He glanced at Whittley’s house and scanned the darkness.
The night was strangely still. His caution level rose. Beyond the thick mesh of trees protecting the house, he heard movement in the water. A slow rhythmic slosh, like the dip of a paddle. Then it stopped. Probably an alligator courting a meal.
Striding across the road in a zigzag pattern, he made it to the porch. A rickety stairway approached the front door from the left. He stepped up onto the first stair. The rotten wood moaned under his weight. He skipped the next two and made the landing without a sound.
The screen door dangled from a single hinge. Otis had been in some kind of a hurry to stop Kate from taking the car.
He leaned to the left of the entry and balled his fist. Bang, bang, bang. He pounded the door and listened to the sound echo inside. “Otis Whittley. New Orleans police. Open the door.”
No response.
He didn’t have a warrant. If Otis didn’t come out willingly, there wasn’t much he could do.
“He’s not here.”
The element of surprise was usually his, but he whirled around at the sound of her voice. Kate stood on the step below him. “What the…get back in the car.”
“He’s not here. I looked in all the windows.”
“You did what?”
“I’ll show you.” She brushed past him, turned the knob and gave the door a push.
It swung wide-open. A shaft of light from the outside bulb penetrated the front room.
She moved to step over the threshold, but he pulled her back. “You can’t go in.”
“And why not?”
The hairs on his neck bristled. “See the broken lamp, the ransacked kitchen?”
“Yeah.”
“Something went on here after you boosted the car.”
“I didn’t boost the car.”
“It’s a crime scene.”
“We’ve only been gone half an hour. I don’t know how anything can happen in half an hour.”
“It’s as easy as squeezing the trigger. Click. You’re dead.” He took Kate’s hand, ignoring the burst of electricity that arced up his arm and spread through his body. He’d neglected to point out the pool of blood near the end of the hall. Fresh blood.
He marched her closer to the car. Closer to safety. He put her in the passenger side and moved around to the driver’s side, eyeing the darkness. Braced for unseen threats that could come at any time.
What was he thinking, bringing her out here? He should have called a black-and-white to take her in. He climbed in and threw a sideways glance at his unwilling passenger. “I need your cell phone. Mine’s DOA. Shrapnel.”
“Sure.”
He watched her rummage in her bag of tricks and pull out the phone. She handed it to him and smiled. His insides went to mush. She was good. There wasn’t any doubt about it, but he didn’t trust her.
Mick pressed in Callahan’s station number and waited for his friend to pick up. “I’ve got a crime scene.” He rattled off the location of the shack Otis lived in. “There’s no body. It’ll probably go to Schneider. ETA? Fifteen. I’ll be here.” He hung up and leaned back into the seat, feeling ragged around the edges.
“Body? What are you talking about?”
“I can’t involve you.” His own words kicked him in the gut. She was already involved, but just how, he wasn’t sure.
“Tell me everything you know about Otis Whittley and his Beamer.”
“I told you all I know. I repossessed the car tonight. I don’t know Otis. He’s just a name on a list.”
He didn’t want to believe her. Believe she’d just been in the right place at the wrong time? Things didn’t happen by accident. “Who do you work for?”
Pulling a penlight out of her pocket, she opened the glove box, shined the narrow beam of light into the compartment and pulled out an envelope. “I have a court order, that’s all you need to know.”
Who was she protecting? There wasn’t an honest person in the Robear clan. Any one of them could steal a car in under thirty seconds and wave as they drove off. Was she any different?
He set his jaw and locked out a minuscule desire to believe her. A Robear was a Robear. They’d taken all they were ever going to take from him.
“I’ll have to haul you downtown. My supervisor has a nasty temper in the interrogation room. You’ll spill your guts before the bars on Bourbon Street close.”
“Where do you get off threatening me? I’m a law-abiding citizen. That car is in my possession and I intend to shuttle it to Dallas at the end of the week.”
“You’re in my custody.” The air temperature in the car went subzero.
“You’ll have to arrest me then, because as soon as your buddies arrive, I’m going home.”
If he wanted to keep her, he’d have to arrest her. The charge wouldn’t hold her for long. The thought tasted like dirt in his mouth, but he was in no condition to drag her there in cuffs, only to have her bond out in the a.m. “As