The English Detective and the Rookie Agent Page 7

“You’re upset with me?”

  He glanced at her, his blue eyes questioning. “Why would you think that?”

  “I don’t know what to think. You play your cards pretty close.”

  He cracked a smile. “You’ll know when I’m cross with you.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “This news about the ransom is good. Now we have something to work with.”

  “I suppose.”

  More silence. She couldn’t stand it. It reminded her of her older cousin, Rosita, who would ignore Mercedes because she’d borrowed earrings without asking. The silence was worse than a shouting match.

  The man sitting next to her was not quiet because he was angry with Mercedes, however. Something else bothered him and she hadn’t a clue what.

  When she’d caught him holding the little girl, Mercedes’s heart warmed. It seemed like such a sweet and tender gesture from someone she thought cold as the iceberg that destroyed the Titanic. She never thought she’d see that kind of compassion from this controlled man.

  His behavior with the little girl was inconsistent with his job and his personality. Then again, maybe he was married with children and she assumed wrongly from the start.

  “How many children do you have?” she asked.

  “I’m not married.”

  “Oh, I thought, because of the way you were with the little girl that you had experience.”

  “No experience. You?”

  “No kids, but I take my nieces for overnights a few times a year.”

  “How old are they?”

  “Five, seven and nine.”

  “You’re brave.”

  “My sister is the brave one. Three kids within five years of each other. My brother, Enrique has three, as well. Thank goodness. The pressure’s off me.”

  “Even with all those grandchildren, your parents want more from you?”

  “Absolutely. What about you?”

  He focused out the front window. “I don’t need to provide them with grandchildren.”

  “You’re an only child and your parents aren’t on your back for grandchildren?”

  “Elizabeth would be horrified to be called grandmother.” He smiled.

  Mercedes realized that on the rare occasion he shot her that smile, his whole affect changed from cold and aloof, to warm and mischevious. He was quite handsome, in a classic sort of way.

  “What?” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re eyeing me strangely.”

  “Sorry. I can’t imagine being an only child.”

  Good recovery.

  “It must have been wonderful,” she said. “No one fighting over the last brownie, no one stealing your clothes, no one beating up on you.”

  His smiled faded.

  “So, what insight does my only child partner have about our missing boy?” she asked, wanting to distract him, to change that sad expression on his face.

  “I think he felt different and very alone.”

  Her partner’s expression didn’t change. And she wondered if he was talking about the lost boy, or about himself. Her heart went out to Jeremy.

  Watch yourself, Mercedes.

  Pulling into town, they found a parking spot, grabbed the computer and headed for the office.

  “Let’s hope Eddie finds a lead on who could have taken Lucas,” Jeremy said. “The Lynk boy said Lucas had quite a few online friends.”

  “When are these kids going to learn?” She opened the door for him.

  “They’re kids. They don’t think they’re in danger by chatting it up online.”

  He slid the computer to Eddie’s desk.

  “Gifts, thank you!” Eddie said.

  “The boy’s computer,” Jeremy explained. “He had a lot of Internet friends, so you might want to check that activity first.”

  “Sure, boss. Max and Cassie are with the Weddles. Spinelli and Finn are trying to bust their way into the official command post for the latest scoop.”

  “Wouldn’t they be better off charming their way in?” Mercedes said.

  “They don’t have natural charisma,” he said smiling. “Like me.”

  Jeremy was getting tired of every male on the team flirting with his partner.

  “You’ve got charisma with a computer, you mean,” Jeremy clarified.

  “I don’t know, I’ve been told I’ve got people charisma.” He winked at Mercedes.

  She smiled back at him.

  “Whenever you two are done, we’ll get back to work.”

  She stuck out her tongue.

  “Mature,” Jeremy said.

  Eddie laughed, a young, robust sound that made Jeremy jealous.

  Jeremy went to his desk, eyeing a brown box.

  “Max wants you to meet them at the lodge,” Eddie offered. “Local cops and FBI are in charge, but the Weddles requested members of Blackwell be allowed to observe.”

  “Observe, my ass,” Mercedes muttered.

  “Oh, yeah,” Eddie said to Jeremy. “That box was delivered about an hour ago. If it’s candy I want some.”

  “I haven’t a clue what it is,” Jeremy whispered.

  Mercedes glanced at her mobile. “My little sister’s calling. I’ll wait for you outside.”

  He refocused on the box. There were no stamps on it, which meant it hadn’t come through the post, and on the top was a label with rather messy hand writing. It was addressed to Inspector Jeremy Barnes.

  He cut along the taped edges and opened the flaps. A typed note lay on top of a mound of white foam packaging.

  Abandoned by his own father.

  How does it feel?

  The blood rushed to his head and he sat down, the note pinched between his fingers.

  What on earth was this about? Another threat? Or did this refer to the Weddle case?

  He glanced up to see if Eddie was watching. Luckily, the bloke was intent on breaking into the Weddle boy’s computer.

  Jeremy tipped the box to empty the peanuts into the trash bin. He spotted something dark among the packaging and grabbed it. It snapped at his finger.

  “Bloody hell!” he swore, dropping the box. Pinching the life out of his fingers was a mousetrap. He pried the metal off his fingers and shook them.

  “You okay, sir?” Eddie started to get up.

  He shoved the note into his inside jacket pocket. “Fine.”

  “What’s up?” Mercedes asked, coming into the room. She glanced at his swelling fingers. “What happened?”

  “Went for my pen and got my fingers stuck in a mousetrap.”

  She shook her head. “A mousetrap?”

  “It was a practical joke, a private joke.”

  “Doesn’t seem very funny to me.”

  “Let’s go.” He made for the door. He could use an aspirin to dull the pain, but he didn’t want to look weak to his partner.

  “Barnes?” she said.

  He turned and she tossed a bottle of something at him. Pain reliever.

  “Don’t be macho.” She went to the water cooler, filled a cup and brought it to him. “I’ve lived with macho my whole life and I’m bored with it.”

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  “I know, but it hurts me to look at your fingers so take the pills, okay?”

  She opened the bottle and handed him two pills. He put them into his mouth and drank the water.

  “Dios mio.” Gripping his wrist, she laid his injured fingers in her open palm to scrutinize them more carefully. “We need to get you some ice.”

  Something about her touch unnerved him, a nurturing touch that warmed his skin. Even Nancy’s touch was more sexual than nurturing, more ravenous than compassionate.

  He snatched his hand back. “Don’t. We need to go.”

  “But you need ice.”

  He walked out on her protest, needing distance. Sure, his fingers throbbed, but that pain wasn’t nearly as bad as the ache filling his chest, knowing only now what he’d been missing in his lif
e.

  And he’d felt it from a woman who didn’t even like him.

  He started for Eagle Lodge, hoping she’d give him space. Embarrassed by his reaction to her touch, he realized he acted like a thirteen-year-old boy running from an unexpected kiss.

  Blast, now he was thinking about kissing her?

  No, that could never happen. Even if she weren’t a work associate, he’d never get involved with a woman like Mercedes, a passionate woman who could easily get through his defenses. Look what a mere touch had done to him. She was the type of woman who could get to his core. And that scared the hell out of him.

  Trying to refocus on the case, he picked up his stride and crossed the street.

  “Watch out!” Mercedes cried.

  He hesitated just as a blue car raced around the corner. Jeremy jumped out of the way and landed against the curb.

  “Hey! Hey!” Mercedes cried after the motorist. She kneeled beside him. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” He got to his feet, favoring his left leg. He jammed his knee in the fall. He studied her worried eyes. “I really am fine.”

  “Are you okay, sir?” a middle-aged man asked, jogging toward them.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Lucky thing your wife called out that warning,” he said.

  Jeremy glanced at Mercedes whose brows knitted together in concern.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she demanded. “Didn’t you see him speeding around the corner?”

  “No, I did not.” He’d been distracted, thinking about her. Not good.

  “Do you want me to hang around for the police report?” the witness offered. “I got a partial plate number.”

  Jeremy and Mercedes looked at him.

  “I watch CSI,” he explained.

  “I’m not involving the police,” Jeremy said. “But we’d appreciate the plate number. We’re with a private detective agency so we can look into it ourselves.”

  “Sure, it started with five-four-three and then I think an H.”

  “Thanks,” Jeremy said, shaking the man’s hand.

  “Is he okay?” a woman said, running out of a gift shop on the corner.

  Jeremy looked at Mercedes. “Let’s be off before I make local headlines.”

  “Thanks again,” Mercedes said to the middle-aged man. She held on to Jeremy’s arm as they walked toward the lodge.

  “I said I’m fine.” He eyed her hand that gently gripped his upper arm.

  “Good, I’m glad. I’m not. I’m still shaken up because I saw him hit you.”

  “He didn’t hit me.” He continued walking. “Thanks to your warning.”

  “He didn’t even brake. Jerk.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “No, but it almost seemed like he meant to hit you.” She shook her head. “I’ll call in the plate to Eddie. Maybe he can track down the driver.” She pulled out her phone, but didn’t let go of his arm.

  “Probably a teenager,” he said.

  “Who needs his license revoked,” she added. She called Eddie and gave him the information. “He’s on it.” She flipped her mobile closed and eyed him. “I’m starting to wonder if you’re a bad luck partner. First the truck, now this. I’d better watch myself around you.”

  She didn’t know how close she was to the truth. That’s it. He wouldn’t put her in danger any longer.

  “You’re right, you deserve a partner with better luck,” he said. “How about Bobby Finn? He’s Irish.”

  She stopped and stared him down. “Hey, you get me reassigned and who’s going to look after you? No, you need a tough woman blessed with good luck to take care of you.”

  “That’s you, is it?” He opened the door to the lodge and she broke contact.

  “Sure, sure. You know I’m tough. As for my luck, well, I won the lottery last year.”

  He shot her a look of disbelief.

  “Twelve bucks.” She nodded. Very proud of herself.

  Jeremy puzzled over her new, friendly nature. It was as if she were trying to divert his attention away from what had just happened. She cared enough to bother?

  They arrived at the Weddles’ hotel room and found it buzzing with police, FBI and family. Jeremy spotted Max in the corner with Cassie and Mrs. Weddle.

  Mrs. Weddle nodded at Jeremy and Mercedes, then went into her husband’s waiting arms. The man closed his eyes as he hugged his wife. He must feel completely helpless.

  “The drop is scheduled for tomorrow at five in the evening,” Max said. “Mr. Weddle will take a backpack with one hundred thousand dollars to a wine shop on Main Street and leave it in the loo.”

  “Tomorrow? Why wait until tomorrow?” Mercedes asked.

  “It’s the opening of the Coastal Wine Festival,” Max said. “There will be thousands of people filling the streets, muddling up the investigation.”

  “Why only one hundred thousand?” Jeremy asked.

  “Wondering that myself, mate. With all the millions Mr. Weddle has to part with, why ask for only a fraction?”

  “Not a sophisticated kidnapper, guv,” Jeremy said.

  “No indeed.”

  Max eyed an FBI agent as he coached Mr. Weddle on his role as drop-off man.

  “Max,” Jeremy said, pulling him aside. “I need to speak with you about Mercedes.”

  “Is she that difficult to work with?”

  Jeremy didn’t want to get her sacked. He just wanted to keep her safe which meant as far away from him as possible.

  “It’s not that, guv. I’m concerned about—”

  “Everyone out!” Mr. Weddle’s outburst interrupted their discussion. “I can’t think with all these people around.”

  “And I thought I had a temper,” Mercedes muttered.

  “That’s mild compared to my reaction if my son had been taken,” Jeremy said.

  Mercedes, Cassie and Max stared at him as if they couldn’t imagine him losing control.

  “What?” he asked.

  The lead FBI agent motioned for his team to vacate the room. “That means you, too,” he ordered Max.

  “Actually, you’re not paying for my services. He is.” Max motioned toward Mr. Weddle.

  “They stay,” Weddle said.

  Max shrugged. The FBI bloke’s head looked like it was about to explode. He finished gathering his people and started out the door, then turned to Mr. Weddle. “I’m leaving Agent Watts. You won’t even know he’s here. There will be two agents posted outside the door.”

  Weddle waved him off. They left and Mr. Weddle motioned for the Blackwell members to sit down.

  Jeremy remained standing by the window. Feeling distanced from the group helped him analyze the situation with a clear head.

  Right, like his head was clear after the threatening notes, the mousetrap and wild motorist? He noticed Mercedes was studying him from across the room. She deserved to know the truth, the whole team did.

  Which was what exactly? That he’d attracted a stalker? Blast, he needed to get with Eddie, look into old case files, do something to end this. Later, after they found the little boy. Finding Lucas was the priority.

  “How did you receive the ransom request?” Max asked Mr. Weddle.

  “E-mail.”

  “Would you mind if our computer expert popped in to have a look? He’s exceptional with these things.”

  “Sure.” Mr. Weddle leaned back into the sofa and his wife leaned against his chest.

  “We’d like a print out, as well, for our entire team,” Max said.

  Weddle nodded.

  “The next twenty-four hours are going to be hor rible and I’m sorry,” Max continued. “But the good news is, if you do what the kidnapper asks he has no reason to harm Lucas.”

  “I don’t like the FBI’s plan,” Mr. Weddle said, eyeing FBI Agent Watts, who sat in the corner. “They want to have someone waiting in the wine shop, someone who can tail the kidnapper after he picks up the money.”

  “It’s insurance,
to make sure they find Lucas,” Max explained.

  “It could mess the whole thing up.”

  “Mr. Weddle,” Jeremy said. “To get a jump on things, it would help us to know if you can think of anyone, enemies, perhaps, who would orchestrate a kidnapping.”

  “Enemies? Try software companies I put out of business or the first company I bought out, Nigitcorp, or how about the old friends who suddenly called to chat after they found out I’d become a millionaire, or hell, I don’t know.”

  “Shhh,” his wife consoled, then looked at Jeremy. The pain in her eyes tore at his heart. “We really don’t know who would do this.”

  “Anyone who’s come looking for money lately?” Max said. “You have a foundation designed for small businesses looking to get a start?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what’s your role?”

  “I’m chairman of the board. I make the final de cision. Contact Roxanne Drecker at the foundation office. She can give you a list of who we’ve rejected.”

  “I’d like to leave my agents here for the night,” Max said. “Keep a watch on things.”

  “If you think it’s a good idea.”

  “I do.” Max stood and shook the man’s hand. “Barnes and Ramos, I’ll leave you in charge. Barnes, we’ll finish our discussion tomorrow. Mercedes, I need a moment.”

  “Yes, sir.” She followed Max into the hallway.

  Now what was that about, Jeremy wondered.

  He felt someone touch his arm. He glanced into Mrs. Weddle’s eyes.

  “This is good, right?” she queried.

  “Yes, very good.” He smiled.

  Her husband paced the living area.

  “Can I get you anything?” Jeremy asked Mr. Weddle.

  “You mean besides my son? Dammit.” Weddle went out onto the balcony.

  His wife followed, closing the sliding door behind her. She rubbed his back and leaned into him. With arms spread across the balcony rail, Doug Weddle hung his head. His body shook, probably with tears of frustration.

  Mercedes came back into the room, holding out her mobile. “You’ve got a call. If I’m going to play secretary I need a raise.” She winked.

  He took the phone. “Hello?”

  “Bastard,” a computerized voice said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You owe me, Barnes. Carver’s Cove—2 a.m. Come alone.”

  Chapter Seven