.38 Caliber Cover-Up

had.

She didn’t need to pick the lock…she had the key. She twisted and tugged until she could get her free arm behind the seat to where Erren had dropped her police belt. A second later she was free of the cuff and the truck.

The man couldn’t be that far ahead. A couple of minutes maybe, but he knew which direction to head to get to the cabin he mentioned. Tracking wasn’t her specialty. It was more a Connor type of thing. She could hear his hushed voice telling her to move slowly, to look for broken branches, indentations in the sand, anything unusual. No one could move through this amount of brush and not leave a trail.

There it was…a rather large tennis-shoe indentation.

A few feet down the trail—if anyone could actually call this rabbit path a trail—she found a second footprint. The man was light on his feet, but every so often, he’d left his mark. She carefully followed, breaking through the overgrowth to a well-groomed lawn inside a three-foot chain-link fence. Two slight shoe indentations were on the inside where Erren had hopped over.

She was his partner, his backup. She retreated into the woods and walked the perimeter of the property. If there were someone here the agent didn’t know about, this time she’d save his butt.

WALKING INTO THE CABIN after seven years, the memories rolled through his mind and couldn’t be stopped. Erren could almost smell hot grease. The last time he’d been here, burnt bacon had permeated the cabin for days. Walter Pike had been a lousy cook, always talking instead of paying attention to the food.

Wishful thinking. Walter was gone.

The cabin was free of any disruption or bad cops. Erren circled back to the truck and of course, no Darby. He caught up and watched her round the fence, staying in the brush—and no telling how much poison ivy—while checking out the perimeter. At least she didn’t give up.

It would be nice to retreat to Walter’s chair and take a nap. Coffee or no coffee—Darby or no Darby—the lack of sleep in the last week was starting to wear on him. But his partner was searching for trouble.

He could give Darby a scare in the big, bad woods, but she might actually pull the trigger on that gun in her hand. She had rawness to her actions he didn’t want to confront.

And one of the nicest behinds he’d watched for a while—even in a Dallas P.D. uniform. The rest of her curves were hidden under her windbreaker. Not completely hidden. Every now and then he got a peek at her creamy skin. No tan for that Irish girl. She’d burn in a couple of minutes, but he sort of liked the idea of limiting her exposure to the sun. To danger. To other men.

Had he gone that soft after one day with the Dallas cop?

No way. He was not seriously attracted to the woman who had lied and sent him on a snipe hunt, wasting a full day.

Oh, hell, he was. Weird thing, he wasn’t worried about blowing his cover for once. This time, he could be himself. Did he even remember who that self was? Maybe it was time to find out.

Scaring her wouldn’t accomplish anything. There was time for training and evaluation later. And other things.

Just the thought of returning to their kiss put more life into his step on the return to the cabin. Officer O’Malley had a lot of explaining to do. They were in major trouble and it was time for the whole truth. Time to cool off and pry whatever secret Darby had from her delicious lips.

He sank into the lounge chair his mentor had picked up at a garage sale a couple of miles away from his house. Walter had loved this chair. Marilyn had hated it. So the lounger found a home at the cabin.

No one knew about this property, except those invited for a private “chat.” Even then they weren’t told it was Erren’s cabin. He hadn’t been here since Walter had proposed his plan and asked to utilize the place as a safe house.

Seven years later and what did he have to show for it? A skill set any good crook would envy, a mystery unlikely to be solved and a murdered friend.

I’m going to miss you, Walter. It was going to be hell continuing alone. Nothing and no one to anchor him. A lot of questions with no quick answers.

“So, I’m assuming your cute little butt doesn’t need rescuing?”

Darby stood in the doorway, gun drawn, barrel pointed in the air. She’d taken him by surprise, but he was careful not to let her see it.

“Nice of you to join me. Leave the cuffs in the truck?”

She gave the room a quick once-over and pushed the gun down the back of her department blues. Was that disappointment, dissatisfaction or a little of both he detected in the look she shot him?

“I suppose you’re ready to talk,” he said.

“Let’s start by you telling me why we’re here and who owns this place.” She didn’t enter the room.

Not yet. She was holding something back. He could see it in the way she stood there—arms crossed, closed.

“You think it’s time for some honesty, Darby?” He rose from the chair, already missing its worn-out leather and the moment of genuine peace. “Are you ready to venture into that territory?”

As if he knew where the hell honesty’s boundaries were. His last honest dealings were probably with his grandmother. He hadn’t told her about Pike’s secret operation, only that she’d always be able to reach him. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. The phone call to rush to her side had never come.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” she said. She held her breath.

A lie. He moved his hand through his hair, and her relief visibly showed in the rise and fall of her chest. She wasn’t getting any better at lying and she didn’t realize it.

“Pike used this cabin when he went fishing.” And for other things, like recruiting spies.

“So you think the package is here?”

“It’s a possibility, but neither of us knows what we’re looking for. Isn’t that right?” He took a step toward Darby and she countered with one backward step, straight into the open doorway. “Start explaining, partner.”

“What do you mean? You’re the one who left me handcuffed to the steering wheel.”

“And you’re the one who’s never set foot in this cabin before.”

“So Pike never brought me here. What does that have to do with anything?”

Incredible. Dumb. Wishful thinking.

“For starters, it means I have the wrong O’Malley.”

Chapter Six

Erren turned his back to her and crossed to Pike’s wall of undercover agents. Not a red-haired kid in the bunch. And one thing about the O’Malleys…they all had red hair.

“You aren’t on the wall.”

“What are you talking about?” She closed the door and followed to look at the pictures.

“Ten days ago, I received a message from Pike telling me I was needed in Dallas to meet O’Malley. I arrived the day after he was murdered. I start poking my nose around and the DEA gets wind of evidence that will clench the death penalty for the accused murderer.”

“That can’t be true. Michael’s innocent.”

“I thought so. My handler wouldn’t tell me the accused guy’s name. No details. I thought something was up when your family seemed to overreact to your brother’s name and situation. A situation they didn’t seem inclined to share in front of me.” He pulled the picture from his back pocket. “This is a map to your house.”

“Yes.”

“Did Pike draw the map on the back sending me to you?”

“I’m not certain.”

She held her breath for a split second too long, trying not to give herself away, but she did. Shifting her feet, not meeting his eyes. Darby O’Malley was not telling the truth.