Kansas City Confessions

“What are you saying to me?” Trent laughed again when the dog tilted his head to one side, as though making an effort to understand him. “I’m Trent Dixon, KCPD. I’d like to ask you a few questions.” The more he talked, the more the dog seemed to quiet. He thumbed over his shoulder toward the auditorium. “You know what happened here? Have you seen a curvy brunette and a little boy about yea high?” When he raised his hand to gesture to Tyler’s height, the dog’s dark brown eyes followed the movement. Interesting. Maybe he’d had a little training before running away or getting tossed out onto the street. Or maybe the dog was just smart enough to know where a friendly snack usually came from. “Your feet aren’t big enough to make those tracks on the other side of the bridge. And I’m guessing you spend a lot of time around here. What do you know that I don’t?”

The dog scooted forward a couple inches and butted his nose against Trent’s knee. When he got up close like that, Trent could see that the dog was shivering. With his stomach doing a compassionate flip-flop, he decided there was only one thing he could do. Katie Rinaldi might not need rescuing tonight, but this knee-high bag of bones did.

“Easy, boy. That’s it. I’m your big buddy now.” Extending one hand for the dog to sniff, Trent petted him around the jowls and ears with the other. When the dog started licking his glove, desperate for something to eat, he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. Other than jumping to his feet, the dog showed no signs of fear or aggression. Maybe the mutt had made friends with enough college students that he didn’t view people as a threat.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you in,” Trent teased, standing and lifting the dog into his arms. Craving either warmth or companionship, the dog snuggled in, resting his head over Trent’s arm and letting himself be carried up the hill to Trent’s truck. “I’ll get you warmed up and get some food in you. Maybe you’ll be willing to tell me what you saw or heard then.”

The dog was perfectly cooperative as Trent loaded him into the cab of his truck and pulled an old blanket and an energy bar from his emergency kit behind the seat. “It’s mostly granola and peanut butter but...okay.”

Taking the bar as soon as it was offered, the dog made quick work of the protein snack. “Tomorrow I’ll get you to the vet for a checkup and have her scan to see if there’s an ID chip in you.” He got a whiff of the dog’s wet, matted fur when he leaned over to wrap the blanket around him. “Maybe they can give you a bath, too.”

Trent shook his head as the dog settled into the passenger seat, making himself at home. “This is temporary, you know,” Trent reminded him, starting the engine and cranking up the heat. “I’m a cop, remember? I’ll have to report you.”

Stinky McPooch raised his head and looked at Trent, as though translating the conversation into dogspeak. His pink tongue darted out to lick his nose and muzzle and he whined a response that sounded a little like a protest.

“Don’t try to sweet-talk your way out of this. You owe me some answers. So what’s your story? No warm place for the night? Anybody looking for you?” The dog tilted his head and an ear flopped over, giving his face a sad expression. Trent turned on the wipers and shifted the truck into gear before driving toward the street. “Sorry to hear that. I’m a bachelor on my own, too. You can call me Trent or Detective. What should I call you?” When he stopped at the exit to the parking lot, Trent reached over the console to pet him. Pushing his head into the caress of Trent’s hand, the dog whimpered in a doggy version of a purr. “All right, then, Mr. Pup.” He pulled onto the street. There wasn’t much traffic this time of night, so it was safe enough to take his eyes off the road to glance at his furry prisoner. “Did you see anything suspicious at the theater tonight?”

The dog barked, right on cue.

When Trent moved both hands to the steering wheel, the mutt put a paw on his arm, whimpering again. Trent grinned and scratched behind the mutt’s ears, loving how the dog was engaging in the conversation with him. “Tell me more. I like a witness who talks to me. I think you and I are going to get along.”

His interrogation skills were intact.

Now if he could just get a certain brunette to tell him what the hell had panicked her tonight.

Chapter Three (#ulink_c05591e4-7f61-5897-9cc0-0ab8335cb69f)

Trent was a man on a mission when he stepped into his boss’s office at the Fourth Precinct building. Lieutenant Ginny Rafferty-Taylor was out somewhere, but he’d spotted Katie going in earlier and wanted a few minutes of face-to-face time with her before the morning staff meeting started.

Instead of asking a pointed question about last night’s phone call, however, he paused, unobserved, in the doorway as she dropped to the floor.

“Where did I put that stupid pencil?”

He did a poor job of keeping his eyes off the bobbing heart-shaped curves of Katie Rinaldi’s backside as she crawled beneath the conference table in search of the accursed writing instrument. Thank goodness Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor was nowhere to be seen, because he was failing miserably at professional detachment. He stood there like a man, not a cop, admiring the view, savoring the stronger beat of his pulse until Katie’s navy blue slacks and the mismatched socks on her feet disappeared between two chairs.

With temptation out of sight, Trent’s brain reengaged and he swallowed a drink of his coffee. The hot liquid burned a little more common sense down his throat, reminding him that he was at work, the fellow members of KCPD’s cold case squad were gathering in the main room outside with their morning coffee and case files, and Katie had made it clear that—no matter how she twisted up his insides with this gut kick of desire—she only wanted to be friends.

I love you, Trent. I always will. But I’m not in love with you.

Man, had that been a painful distinction to make.

He’d felt an undeniable pull to this woman since he was fifteen years old and she’d moved in with her aunt across the street from the home where he’d grown up. Although he’d been a jock and she’d been into the arts, proximity and a whole yin and yang thing of opposites attracting had played hell with his teenage libido. When she’d gotten pregnant their senior year, his idealistic notions about the dark-haired beauty had dimmed. But when she disappeared, and he’d played a small role in helping her get safely home, an indelible bond had been forged between them, deeper than anything raging teenage hormones could account for.

After her return, she’d talked him into singing in a musical play with her and he’d discovered he liked driving her back and forth to rehearsals and hanging out with her. They’d dated a few times their senior year of high school. Well, he’d been dating, hoping for something more, but Katie had always pulled back just when things were getting interesting.

She didn’t mean to be a tease, and had always been straight with him about her feelings and concerns. It just wasn’t easy for her to trust. He understood that now better than he had ten years ago. She’d grown up with an abusive father, witnessed her mother’s own murder at his hand. She’d survived a kidnapping, but lost the good friend she’d been trying to help when she’d gotten involved with the kidnappers in the first place. She’d had an infant son before graduation and had to learn about being a mother.

Katie had every right to be cautious, every right to insist on standing on her own two feet, every right to protect herself and her son from getting attached to someone who’d thought he was going to make a career for himself in another city. She wouldn’t risk the stability she provided for Tyler. She wouldn’t risk either her or her son possibly getting hurt. He’d admired her for her stubborn strength back then. Still did. Understanding why she wouldn’t give them a chance, Trent had accepted the dutiful role of friend and gone off to play football in college and take his life and dreams in a different direction. Some dreams died or morphed into other goals. He’d come back to Kansas City, come home to be a cop.

He might be a different man than the teen he’d once been. But the rules with Katie hadn’t changed. One wiggle of that perfectly shaped posterior, one flare of concern that all was not right in her world, shouldn’t make him forget that.

Besides, a man had his pride. Yeah, being built to play the defensive line made him a little scary sometimes. But he wasn’t completely unfortunate in the looks department. He had a college degree and a respectable job, and his parents had taught him how to treat a lady right. He didn’t have to pine away for any woman. He dated. Okay, so a lot of those dates—like Erin Ballard last night—had been set up by Katie herself, but he could get his own woman when he had to. He’d even been in a couple of long-term relationships. It wasn’t as if he was a saint—he enjoyed a woman’s company.

Trent drank another, more leisurely sip of coffee, cooling his jets while he remembered his purpose here. He anchored his feet to the carpet, bracing himself. From the grumbling sounds beneath the table, Katie was on a tear about something this morning. A civilized conversation might not be possible. But he’d gotten information from less cooperative witnesses in an interrogation room. He just had to stay calm and make it happen.

A chair rolled across the utility carpet as she popped out on the other side of the table. “You and I need to talk,” Trent stated simply.

Her head swiveled around and her blue eyes widened with a startled look, then quickly shuttered. She knew he was talking about last night. But she blithely ignored the issue between them. “I have to find that pencil first.” It was hard to feel much resentment when her bangs flew out in a dozen adorable directions after she raked her fingers through the dark brown waves and stood. “It’s the second one I’ve lost today. I don’t have time for this. I’m making my presentation to you guys this morning and—”

Trent tapped the back of his neck, indicating the bouncy ponytail where an orange mechanical pencil had been speared through her hair.

She buzzed her lips in a frustrated sigh and pulled the pencil from her hair. “Thanks.”

He stepped into the room to keep their conversation private from their friends gathering outside the office. “You called me—”

“Trent, please.” Katie gestured to their team leader’s empty desk. “I have to get everything ready for the meeting before the lieutenant gets back.”

Fine. He’d ease into the questions he had for her. As long as he could get her talking to him. Trent glanced over at the empty desk where the cold case squad’s team leader usually sat. “Where is she?”

“The lieutenant got called into Chief Taylor’s office for an emergency meeting. She said she’d be back in time for the team briefing.”

“Emergency?” That word and news of an impromptu meeting with the lieutenant’s cousin-in-law, aka the department’s top brass, wasn’t something a cop wanted to hear at the beginning of his shift. He eyed the other members of the team through the glass window separating Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor’s office from the maze of detectives’ desks on the building’s third floor. Max Krolikowski, his partner, along with Jim Parker and Olivia Watson, stood together chatting, apparently as unaware as he as to what the emergency summons might be. Katie’s frenetic movements weren’t exactly reassuring. “Any idea what’s up?”

“Not a clue.” She unplugged a cord, inserted a zip drive and pulled up a file on her laptop. When she looked up at the dark television screen at the opposite end of the conference table, she groaned and circled around the table to fiddle with the TV. “It’s not my job to keep track of every bit of gossip that comes through the KCPD grapevine. The lieutenant was heading out when I came in. She told me to go ahead and set up for the staff meeting. So, of course, the wireless connection is on the fritz, and I had to track down extra cords. Then I realized I left one of the files in my bag and hadn’t uploaded the pictures yet, so I had to go back for that. And now the stupid TV—”

“Take a breath, Katie.”

“You take a breath,” she snapped, spinning to face him.

“Really? That’s your witty repartee?”

“I mean...” Her eyes widened like cornflowers blooming when her gaze locked on to his.

Accepting the remorse twisting her pretty mouth as an apology, Trent crossed the room to inspect the closed-circuit television. He tightened a connector on the side of the TV and turned the screen on for her. “There. Easy fix.”

“Thanks.” She bent over her laptop, resuming her work at a more normal pace. “I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to say. I was going on like a chatterbox, wasn’t I?”

“There’s something buggin’ you, I can tell. But it’s just me, so don’t sweat it.”

“I’m not going to take advantage of your cool, calm collectedness. You didn’t come to work so you could listen to me vent.”

“But I do want to hear about last night.”

She arched a sable-colored brow in irritation. Okay. Too soon to press the subject. Just keep her talking and eventually he’d get the answers he needed.

Trent reached around her to set his coffee and notebook in front of the chair kitty-corner from hers. Although Katie was of an average height and curvy build, she’d always seemed petite and fragile. It didn’t help that she’d kicked off her shoes beneath the table, while he’d tied on a pair of thick-soled work boots this morning to shovel his sidewalks, blow the snow off his driveway and walk the dog he’d taken in around the block. Despite her uncharacteristic flashes of frustration and temper, and the static electricity that made the strands of her ponytail cling to the black flannel of his shirt, she seemed pretty and dainty and far too female for the cells in his body not to leap to attention whenever he got this close to her.

“You seem a little off your game this morning.” He spoke over the top of her head, backing away from the enticement of making contact with more than a few wayward strands of hair. “You know something about the lieutenant’s emergency meeting that you’re not telling me?”