Hostile Witness (Sanctuary, Inc. #1)

Chapter 7

7

B ack at the precinct, Ethan rounded the corner to his cubicle. The ever-present mound of files had grown during his time out of the office. As much as he enjoyed helping out on patrol, the only way he’d solve the caseload on his desk was to have a week or two of uninterrupted work hours to follow leads and chase down witnesses. Actually, he’d prefer to just forget about patrol and dedicate himself to the job they’d originally hired him to do.

But he was having a hard time forgetting Tia O’Rourke. In the few times he’d talked with her, she’d smiled only once. Being a hard-ass didn’t come naturally to her. It was challenging for him to reconcile Krav Maga with the woman who wore bunny slippers.

Not that he was all that great at reading women. God knew he’d misread all sorts of signals with his ex. He heaved a deep breath. His ex was a story he couldn’t afford to focus on right now.

He glanced at his desk again. There was a new stack of files with Margie Plante investigation notes, and sticky notes scattered to the right of the folders. Seriously?

Sergeant Earl Thompson whistled from the far end of the room and waved Ethan over. “We’ve scored a meeting room. Grab a drink, and meet us in Conference Three.”

“I see you’ve been thinking, Earl.” Ethan held up the sticky notes. “Did you ever think of using a whole piece of paper instead of these?”

“No can do, Son. The thoughts come to me one at a time every few minutes. The sticky notes fit in my pocket. I’ve got to use what I have on hand to record the questions and ideas. I’m old-school.”

Ethan grabbed his laptop and charger and strode toward the kitchen for a bottle of water. Everyone around here had their own form of brilliance. Earl was a master of puzzles, the yellow stickies being his puzzle pieces. It was Ethan’s job to corral the messy process into a spreadsheet... eventually. But not until the tables in Conference Room 3 swam in a virtual sea of neon-colored notes.

Sometimes the meetings with Earl went on for hours. The man could focus on a fingernail shaving all afternoon if required. About the time Ethan would start going cross-eyed, Earl would be breaking his stride in mental alertness. The man was a fearsome mentor.

Working with Earl Thompson was like boot camp for detectives. He took no guff from anyone and expected discipline. The burly hulk with a buzz cut still participated in a grueling six-hour physical training twice a month with all his detectives, and he outlasted most of them. Ethan knew this for a fact. He’d participated in the last five hell workouts with Sergeant Earl Thompson and had barely kept ahead of the man thirty years his senior. It kept Ethan in shape for his Sanctuary missions. This afternoon would be the mental side of working out with Earl.

He entered the conference room and plopped the files onto the table. “Just us two today, Sarge?”

Earl kept scribbling a note. “Mulrooney’s coming, but he’s using the latrine first. Who contaminated the scene at Lieutenant Plante’s house? The name’s been redacted from all the printed material.”

“A schoolteacher by the name of Tia O’Rourke. Nervous type. Almost backed out of the ride along at the last moment.”

Earl’s head shot up. “Tia? You sure?”

“I’m sure. Pretty, late twenties, red hair.” Absolutely no security around the perimeter of her house.

An incredulous look crossed Earl’s face. “The chief’s niece?”

Ethan sat down and opened his laptop. “Yeah. Why, is that hard to believe?”

Earl started writing again. “Huh. The chief must’ve had her name stricken from the records. Going forward, make sure all the documents refer to her as ‘the ride along’ and not by her name.”

Ethan glanced over the rim of his reading glasses. “Okay. Why?”

“Not my story, Son. Just do it for the chief. There’s nothing illegal about protecting an innocent person who had a miserable ride along.”

He nodded slowly. “No problem.” Even if it was odd.

“And if you’ve got any sense, don’t get distracted by her red hair. Hands off. Go sniff in another direction for a woman.”

What the hell? “First of all, Earl, I wasn’t sniffing but simply stating a fact. She has red hair. I need a woman in my life like I need a piercing on my trigger finger. One divorce is enough on my resume.” Sniffing, my ass. “Chief sent me over there on Saturday to make sure her place was secure. I’m not doing that again.”

Earl snickered. “Hellcat, huh?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. She asked me to attack her so she could show off her self-defense moves.”

He chuckled. “Good for her.”

Ethan leaned back in his chair. “What does that mean?”

Earl plastered one sticky on the table and started writing another. “Like I said, not my story, Son.”

Ethan shook his head. Why was he feeling defensive? “Any contact I’ve had with her has been at the chief’s request.” This time, at least. But he remembered kissing her senseless at that beach bonfire way back when. She’d been funny and carefree and was the most beautiful girl he’d ever met. Funny thing... that. Because she wasn’t beautiful by magazine standards, but when Tia had smiled, she’d taken his breath away. She hadn’t smiled on Saturday though, not really. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize he’d been an annoying imposition to her.

“I understand. Sniffing comment withdrawn.” Earl looked him square in the eye. “Relax. The chief and I appreciate how valuable you are. That’s why he has you cover certain shifts and work with delicate people and situations.”

Uh-huh. Well, there was nothing delicate about present-day Tia O’Rourke. And judging by the undertone of Earl’s statement, the woman was a situation requiring discretion. Discreet, he could handle. But intimidated by her? No freaking way.