To Trust a Cop. Sharon Hartley

around them. Since there were police cars everywhere and likely would be for a while, her car should be fine. Still, she couldn’t leave without her camera or at least a dupe of the video.

      She needed to think. Why couldn’t she come up with a plan? Because she was so very tired. Her feet felt like fifty-pound weights as she trudged toward Cody’s car.

      Cody opened the passenger door of his unmarked vehicle, and she collapsed into the seat, undeniably glad to be with him on this awful night no matter what. She’d worry about why later.

      He slid behind the wheel, slammed his door, then turned to her. Their gazes locked, and she couldn’t look away.

      “Are you all right?” he asked in a quiet, steady voice.

      She forced a smile. “Am I acting that scared?”

      “It’s only natural you’d be shook up.”

      “You probably see scenes like that all the time,” she said, glancing back to the house, wondering if Cody could be in trouble for being at the murder scene of a man he’d once investigated.

      “More often than I like.” He shrugged and also looked toward the Johnson residence.

      She hadn’t considered how phoning him could drag him into problems, create a difficult situation for him at work. But she saw it now.

      “Right now I hardly know my name,” she said. That at least was the truth.

      He squeezed her shoulder as if to encourage her. “I’ll drive you back tomorrow to get your vehicle,” he said.

      She nodded. “I’m too drained to argue. I can’t remember ever being this tired.”

      Cody almost said something, then shrugged and started his car. She closed her eyes and settled into her seat. Before the car moved, she sat up straight.

      “Wait,” she said. “Please.”

      “What?”

      “I need to get my purse out of my car.”

      Before he could stop her, she ran toward her Toyota. She knew she had to work fast or arouse Cody’s suspicions. The video camera lay on the passenger seat floorboard. She opened her purse and jammed the camera inside. Thank goodness the compact equipment fit. She covered her binoculars with her jacket, grabbed the textbook for her education class and moved toward Cody’s car with the items cradled in her arms.

      “In case I can’t sleep tonight,” she told him when she’d climbed back inside, indicating the book.

      Relief flooded her when Cody nodded and accelerated onto Granada Avenue. Thank goodness, he didn’t notice anything amiss.

      After a moment she asked, “The murder has something to do with your investigation, doesn’t it?”

      When he didn’t answer, Merlene swiveled to look at him. A muscle worked in the side of his jaw. He focused on the road, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

      So Cody wasn’t going to tell her what was going on.

      That figured. She’d watched a murder practically happen under her nose, but from now on she’d be kept in the dark. Always that one-way street.

      “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?” she demanded.

      “I’m sorry. I can’t. Not yet.”

      “Damn you,” she muttered. But she shifted in the seat and tamped down her frustration. She wasn’t telling him everything, either. And Cody had been a big help on this terrible night, getting to her quicker than she could have imagined. Had she even thanked him?

      Cody ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, I don’t know what’s going on yet.”

      They remained silent for a few miles. Merlene broke the silence with, “Who’ll call Pat?”

      “We have a protocol to follow in cases like this. Officers will break it to her as gently as possible.”

      Yeah, right, she thought, remembering the cops who had broken it to her that her parents had been killed in a head-on collision. Streetlights flowed by Cody’s car in a blurred streak as she recalled the uniformed officers on her front step, sunglasses blocking their eyes so she couldn’t tell if they held any sympathy.

      Both her mom and dad had been dead drunk, though, so probably hadn’t felt a thing. But she’d been fifteen years old, trying to take care of a twelve-year-old brother. She’d felt plenty. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. None of that was Cody’s fault.