“As a matter of fact, I know exactly what I’m doing,” she replied, with only a hint of her irritation showing in her voice. “And I’ve managed to do my job quite adequately for ten years without your help, though I’ve yet to convince you of that.”
“Well, sadly enough, it appears to me that you haven’t done your job. At least, not yet. I’ve heard from a very good source that there’s been no evidence linking any of the five detectives suspected in this gun supply.”
Her mouth dropped at his announcement, and then she shook her head in disbelief. “You are unbelievable, do you know that?” Her earlier certainty that she could, for once, deal with him calmly was vanishing. “When are you going to stick to running the city and stay out of police matters! Whoever is feeding you this information is a disgrace to the force. And you’re a disgrace for asking about it!”
“I’m worried about you,” he stated firmly. “The longer this case drags on, the more time you have to make a mistake. I won’t be comfortable until Martinez is behind bars.”
She stared at him, wondering when she’d last been as furious as she was now. “Then you will no doubt have to wait a very long time to be comfortable,” she burst out in frustration. “Because Cruz Martinez is not going to be behind bars. Not now, or later.”
His mouth tightened. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Madeline.”
“No, you don’t,” she contradicted. “Your only wish is for things to turn out the way you want them. Although why you have developed such a need to see a man you don’t even know go to prison, I can’t quite figure out. But I’ve found absolutely no evidence to connect Cruz to the gun supply. None.”
After a pregnant pause, he asked, “How can you be sure Martinez is not involved?”
“I’m trained to find evidence and to interpret it, Father. And whether you believe it or not, I happen to be good at my job. Captain Brewer is satisfied with my investigation. That’s all that matters.”
Her father rose to stride to the window, pushing aside a curtain to stare out at the skyline. After a moment he murmured, “You’re sure, of course, that you haven’t missed anything, out of your own need to see this man proven innocent.” He turned to look pointedly at her.
Her jaw dropped at his audacity. “You are unbelievable,” she whispered, shaking her head. “And you never change. Never. You’re like a broken record, playing over the same irritating scratch.”
“I’m just expressing an interest because I don’t want to see you do any further damage to your career. Another mistake like Dennis Belding would destroy any credibility you could ever hope to achieve.”
What he really meant, of course, was that he was concerned about any damage to
“Well,” he said in disapproval, turning from the window, “I only came here for your own good. As usual, you choose to misunderstand my intentions.” Noting her rigid features, he added in a more conciliatory tone, “And if you say that your dinner with him that night was just a necessary evil, a step in your investigation of him, then I’ll accept your word on that. It’s just that I don’t like the thought of your spending any more time with Martinez than necessary. He really isn’t our kind.” He walked past her toward the door. Her next words brought him to a halt.
“I didn’t say that.”
She noted the ramrod stiffness of his backbone as the meaning of her words became clear, and she knew she’d made a mistake. If only he’d left before firing off his last parting shot, she would have been able to hold her tongue. But she wasn’t going to allow him to speak like that of Cruz, to think that way about him. From the sound of his words, he felt her being around her partner was liable to taint her in some way. And it was time her father learned that the end of this case wasn’t going to spell the end of her relationship with Cruz Martinez. Her father had long ago lost the ability to control her life, and he needed to realize that.
He turned slowly to face her again. “Would you care to clarify those words?”
“Certainly.” She rose, too, and they faced each other more like two adversaries than like father and daughter. “What I mean is, if I choose to see Cruz after this investigation, I will do so. My decision has nothing to do with you, nor do you have anything to say about it.”
“I can assure you, Madeline,” he said tightly, “that I will find quite a bit to say about it.”
“No doubt,” she replied dryly. “But I’m not interested in hearing it. So we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
His face flushed deep red, more reaction than she could remember seeing in it for a very long time. “You will regret this decision,” he warned her ominously.
“I don’t think so,” she said softly. “But if I do, at least it will be my decision.”
After a long look, her father turned and walked swiftly from her apartment.
As the door closed behind him, Madeline sank into a chair, heaving a sigh.
She’d regretted almost immediately the words she’d spoken to her father, if not the fury that had fueled them. He lit the match to the fuse of her temper so effortlessly, and he absolutely never learned. But he’d also left her with something to think about, something that she’d been worrying about since last night.
Her father had an enviable pipeline of information that was usually quite accurate. She was beginning to become more concerned with the possibility that somehow Cruz, too, would get hold of the information that he’d been the subject of an investigation. She had no doubt as to how he would react to that. And to her, should he find out the whole story.
She had to keep the information from him; she had no choice. Although she was convinced she’d find nothing to link him to the gun suppliers, she had a job to fulfill. And her investigation wasn’t completed. There was no way she could give him that information, even if she’d wanted to.
But after the case was over, perhaps after another detective had been proven guilty, what then? She pondered the question. When she was free to come clean with Cruz, would she risk that? Would she take the chance of telling him and possibly destroy any hope of a future with him?
Could she take the chance of his finding out anyway, from someone else?
It was a question that plagued her constantly. It lurked in her subconscious, coloring every moment of each day. It made the time she spent with Cruz almost bittersweet, as if each instant with him would be the last. Which, of course, it could be if she made the wrong choice. She knew she was being a coward, putting off making a decision about what she would do, but still she procrastinated, while she gathered all the memories she could with him.
For the next few days she and Cruz spent most of their time sitting in the unmarked car, on a street with a clear view of the Andersen warehouse. Although there was plenty of activity there each day, Valdez wasn’t spotted. They watched all day, and took turns sleeping at night. Then they drove home, showered and changed before driving back and starting all over again.
By the third night Madeline was close to losing it. There was no position in the car that was comfortable any longer, and even though it was her turn to sleep, she was having very little success at it. Her supper of sandwiches and chips seemed a distant memory, and being hungry worsened her mood.
She glared across the car at Cruz. Though he was awake and watchful, he was slouched into a position that would have had her back screaming for days. The knowledge that he was totally comfortable made her want to give him a kick.
“Go to sleep. You should know by now that I’m not going to do the noble thing and take your watch, too. It’ll be your turn in an hour and a half, and believe me, I’ll be asleep in a minute.” His voice cut across the darkness.
“Yeah, you look pretty tense right now,” she muttered, changing position once again.
She could sense the smile in his voice when he spoke again. “It’s all in the attitude, Maddy, my girl. You’ve got to take every second to relax when you can. I’d give you a back rub to help out, but I don’t trust myself to stop there.”
Neither did she. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to trust herself, either. She remained firmly on her side of the seat while they watched, and he did the same. The only time they touched was to pass each other something to eat, and even that casual brushing was enough to set her skin afire. So she kept her distance and prayed that he would do likewise. Because if he was of a mind to pass away the hours of the night in a much more pleasurable manner, she wasn’t sure she would have the strength to deny him.
It was partly frustrated desire that made it difficult to sleep, but mainly it was her inability to stop thinking. Through the long hours of the night it was difficult to keep troublesome thoughts at bay, and the choice she had to
