Chapter 5
FIVE
Anthony tried to concentrate on lifting the fingerprint off the locker. “You don’t have to watch over my every move, you know. I’ve done this a few times.” He glanced over his shoulder at Penny Mitchell.
She stood behind him, eyes narrowed as she observed. “Gotta make sure you’re doing it right.”
He knew better than to read anything into that tease in her voice.
She was head over heels for Bryce Crawford, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her wedding was coming up soon.
Not that he hadn’t done his fair share of flirting with her months ago, when she’d assisted the department with the Sosa case.
But she was engaged now. He knew it wouldn’t go anywhere, which made it safe, harmless fun.
No chance of getting hurt again.
“Don’t you have a case? Or someone else to bug?” He lifted the tape off the locker and pressed it onto the white cardboard.
Before she could answer, his radio squawked. “Think we’ve got something.” Sounded like Jessica Ridgeman’s voice. As detective, she was probably running point on a section of the search. A search he should be a part of. “Path east of the river. Footprints and—”
Anthony turned the volume on his radio off. If it wasn’t attached to his vest, he’d be tempted to chuck it across the room.
“Whoa there, buddy.” Penny spoke as if she were placating a child. “What’s up with that grumpy face? Aren’t you glad they’re on the trail?”
“Of course I’m glad. I hope they catch them.” He shut the lid to the fingerprint case a little too forcefully.
“Then what’s the problem?” The childish banter was gone. It was his friend Penny asking in earnest.
“I should be out there. Tracking those prisoners down. Not…sitting around waiting for something to happen.”
“What you’re doing here is important, Tony. That woman is scared. She’s been through hell.”
“I know, Pen.”
“She doesn’t think you’re taking her seriously. Why is that?”
“When I didn’t see anything on the footage, I was skeptical. And maybe I still am. Stress and anxiety can mess with memory. Make people see things that aren’t there. Even forget things.”
How many times had he lived through it with his mom? All the times she was convinced of aliens or intruders—what did the doctor call it? Psychosis brought on by stress. She’d manufactured stories that had nothing to do with reality because his dad had left.
Della had been through hell. He’d read the file. And knowing the man who’d caused it was now on the loose could trigger all kinds of anxiety. But he still had the sense that there was something she was keeping in the dark.
So maybe originally he’d dismissed it. “But I’m doing my due diligence.” He sealed up the kit. “Fingerprints are ready to be processed. Despite my gut telling me there’s something she’s hiding, I’m investigating this like any other case. And I’m not going to let anything happen to her.”
“I know you won’t. You’re a good man, Tony. Even if you don’t like Christmas.”
“Who told you that?”
“Olivia Tazwell said you’re the only one not doing Secret Santa at the office.”
“You’re gonna get on my case about that too? Don’t you have more important things to do? Plan a wedding. Find a missing person.” He chuckled, desperate to throw off any inquest about his dislike of the holiday.
“Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”
Anthony moved to the door and held up the fingerprints. “I’ll have someone from the station pick this up. Where’s Nixon now?”
“With Amelia, in a storage area. I’ll show you.”
Penny showed him to a small room in the middle of the building. Without windows, it was a little dark. Shelves of extinguishers and air tanks lined one wall. Paper products filled another. Della stood alone at a table in the middle of the space, wrapping a children’s board game.
Penny left to find Bryce while Anthony walked in with his case. “I’ve got the fingerprints from the locker. I just need a set from you to compare. You probably have one on file, but couldn’t hurt to do a more recent one.”
Della looked up from her taping. “We can do that here.” She finished her present and set it aside.
Anthony pulled out the ink pad and got to work.
“So…you believe me?” Suspicion laced Della’s words.
He deserved it. He believed she was scared. He believed she had a legitimate reason for that fear. He just wasn’t sure Vaynes was skulking around the firehouse when the man could be hitchhiking to Canada. But he also wanted Della to know he was a good cop. “We want all our bases covered.”
She studied him a beat and nodded. She placed her first finger on the ink pad. Anthony helped to place the print in the corresponding box. The second he touched her smooth skin, a sensation almost like an electrical pulse ran up his arm.
Okay, that was weird. Keep it professional, Thomas.
Her hand was warm, fingers long and slender.
It had been a while since he’d held a woman’s hand.
Everyone liked to think he had an active dating life, but the truth was, he didn’t want to get that close to a woman.
Close enough where she could take what was left of his heart and demolish it.
He’d rather keep things light and casual. Safe.
So, better shove aside whatever that reaction was and move on.
He finished taking her prints and closed the kit. “I’m not sure how long it will take to get results.”
“I understand.” A pause. “And thank you for taking this seriously.”
He still wasn’t completely convinced that Vaynes was harassing her. But he’d hate to miss something. Again. And it could be someone else messing with Della. Either way, he had a job to do. He would do it to the best of his ability.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He looked her in the eye. This was at least something he could promise and deliver on.
High-pitched alarms sounded. “Rescue 5. Truck 14. Structure fire.”
“That’s us,” Della said. “We’ve got a call.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“You’re coming with us?”
“Your job is to put out the fire. My job is to watch your back.”
“Okay.” She gave him a hint of a smile, the first he’d seen from her—at least, the first one she’d ever directed at him.
And oh man, was it ever enticing.