Lost But Not Forgotten (6 page)

Flo laughed. “If
that’s
what you’re basing your suspicions on, Ethan, you’ve got some nerve. If it’s a crime for a woman to color her hair, you’d better jail half the females in town. Me included.”

“It’s more than that, Flo. Darn it, I can’t put my finger on anything specific. Except I ran a make on her. Nothing showed for a Gillian Stevens.”

“See there.” Flo did her own smirking.

Ethan shook his head. “You don’t understand. I mean
nothing
showed. It’s like the woman doesn’t exist.”

Bert snorted and headed for the kitchen. Before reaching the door, he turned and shook a finger at Ethan. “Anyone tell you that cops are naturally paranoid? Lay off the poor kid, Knight. She’s the best damned waitress Flo and I have hired in five years. And if you’ve got nothing concrete, you’d better think twice before dumping this on Mitch. Flo and I figure Amy’s elopement shook him way more than he lets on.”

Ethan’s mouth opened as if he meant to say more. Then not only did the object of their discussion return to their midst, but the front door opened and Mitch himself strolled in, wearing a wide grin. It became patently obvious to everyone watching that his welcoming smile was for the sole benefit of Gillian Stevens.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he teased. “You miss me?”

Gillian’s stomach did handsprings before settling again. Oddly enough, she
had
missed him. But she wasn’t nearly ready to admit any such weakness. “Dream on, cowboy,” she mocked as she sailed past on her way to pour coffee for a table of customers. “Anyway,” she said, making a face at him over her shoulder, “your friend there—” she indicated Ethan “—said there’s someone new in your life.” Sliding a pencil behind her ear, Gillian continued to walk.

Mitch spun on his former partner. “What lies are you spreading?” Though his tone remained light, there was an aggressive undercurrent.

“I meant the dog,” Gillian exclaimed, stopping mid-stride. For a minute there, she thought Mitch was ready to scrap with his best friend over her. Daryl rarely if ever came to her defense, regardless of provocation. She considered what it would be like to have a protector. She
couldn’t deny that Mitch’s action lit a sexual fire deep inside her.

Her suspicions of him made it a foolish reaction. However, at that moment, if Mitch Valetti asked her out again, Gillian knew she’d live dangerously and accept. After all, her life couldn’t be any more on the line than it was now, with people chasing her, wanting her dead. If by some bizarre coincidence Valetti was connected to their efforts, at least she’d be taking charge of her fate.

As long as she remained careful. As long as she never dropped her guard.

E
THAN
K
NIGHT
tossed his tip on the counter. He told his new partner to go on back to the station, that he’d catch up. “Got a minute, Mitch?”

“Sure, Big E. Time’s a plentiful commodity with me right now. What can I do you for?”

“I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.” Ethan smiled with his mouth, not his eyes. “Walk out with me to where I left Taz? What I have to say is private. I want to, ah, discuss a case.” His gaze slid from Mitch to Flo’s new waitress, who’d leaned around the counter to give Bert special instructions on an order.

Mitch’s stance showed resistance to Ethan’s suggestion. Staring at his friend, he capitulated with a shrug, his limp more pronounced during their exit.

Gillian sent a glance at them as they left.
What case?
She’d felt Ethan’s eyes boring into her back. Did his need for secrecy involve her? A current of fear rattled Gillian’s equilibrium. The fear was accompanied by a vague disappointment that Mitch wasn’t staying around to order lunch.

What was there about the man that caused such conflicting emotions? She snatched up the coffeepot and hurried to refill patrons’ cups, mentally cautioning herself against any loss of objectivity.

Outside, Mitch sauntered over to Taz, who was straining against his leash. “Hi there, sport.” Hunkering down,
he rubbed the dog’s head and patted his wriggling backside. “Next time I come to town, I’ll bring Trooper. Bet you’d like company, wouldn’t you?”

Ethan untied the dog and gave him a couple of treats he pulled from his jacket. Propping a shoulder against the tree, he methodically coiled the leash.

“What’s the problem, Ethan?” Mitch asked. “Do we play twenty questions or you gonna spit out what’s bugging you? You need my input on a case? Which one?”

“I lied about wanting to discuss a case. This probably won’t win me any points, but here goes.
You’re
what’s bugging me, Mitch.”

“Me?” After his initial start, Mitch laughed on seeing Ethan’s grim expression. He relaxed enough so that Taz almost knocked him over. “Jeez! And here I moved out of your house so I wouldn’t get on your nerves.”

“Knock it off. I’m trying to be serious and you’re clowning around.”

Mitch straightened, dusting dog hair from his hands. “You’re so transparent, Ethan.” He puckered his lips. “I can take care of myself, so save the lecture. We’re not blood kin, and you’re no longer my senior partner.” Mitch let it stand at that, even though he wanted to say more.

“I
am
your friend.” Ethan’s sudden, tense stillness dared Mitch to disagree. “What’s more, I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you. You took bullets meant for me. I had no defense against DeSalvo when you drew his fire. That damn well bonds us, whether you like it or not, Valetti.”

“Quit it, Ethan. You’re the closest thing I have to a brother. You’d have done the same for me if our roles were reversed. But dammit, man, that still doesn’t give you the right to mess in my personal life.”

“It does if you insist on acting like a fool.”

“Give me a break. Half the department thought you were crazy to get involved with Regan Grant. Did I ever stick my nose in and try to warn you off?”

“No. You tried to steal her away from me right in front of my house. Remember how thick you laid on the Italian charm?”

“Hell, Ethan, if you couldn’t see that I was trying to help you make up your mind…”

“So, is that why you’re flirting with Christy Jones? If it is, her husband isn’t buying your act. She
is
still married, you know.”

“Christy? Dammit, you oughta know that’s strictly business. And she said you told her I was open to doing contract investigative work.”

“Okay, okay. I did. It was a mistake, okay? Maybe you should think twice about accepting her offer. Bert says Royce is on a tear. We’ve both seen good cops go bad. Royce has never been rational when it comes to Christy.” He squinted at Mitch. “Sort of like how you aren’t firing on all cylinders where Bert’s new waitress is concerned.”

“Ah. Finally we’re getting to the crux of this conversation.”

A guilty expression flashed across Ethan’s face.

“Oh, don’t tighten the reins now, Ethan. Let’s take this at a gallop. What’s your problem with Gillian Stevens?”

Ethan released a pent-up breath. His gaze didn’t waver. “It’s a gut feeling. How often in the years we worked together did we go with one of my gut reactions and been glad we did?”

Breaking the eye lock Ethan had on him, Mitch mas
saged the back of his neck. “A lot. I never kept track. There were a couple of times you were wrong, though.”

“A couple out of six years?” Ethan sounded scornful.

“Closer to seven,” Mitch mumbled. “Dammit, Ethan. I haven’t asked the woman to marry me, I only asked her for a date. She turned me down,” he admitted quietly, ramming his hands in his back pockets while he scuffed the pointed toe of his boot in the dirt.

“She did? What the hell’s wrong with her?”

His head snapped up at Ethan’s outburst. Laughing, Mitch reached over and slapped Ethan’s shoulder. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Yeah, well…” Ethan glanced away. “Maybe we should trust my gut this time. A couple of uniforms from the day shift said the Stevens woman asked some not-so-subtle questions about you. Her being down-and-out, I figure she has her eye on your ranch and your police retirement.”

“Who said she’s down-and-out?”

Ethan rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. Why else would a woman with her looks be content working for Bert and Flo? Not that they’re not great people—they are. But you know as well as I do that there are other restaurants in town where a pretty waitress can make a whole lot more in tips.”

The grunt Mitch gave signaled his satisfaction. “So we agree she’s pretty. Do you think we can start there and work up? I’m going to ask her out again, Ethan. Until she says yes, as a matter of fact.”

Ethan called Taz to heel. The dog had strayed to sniff a parking meter a few feet away. “Regan and I ended up not asking anyone over to play cards this weekend. I admit, the offer I made was a ploy to set you up with a hometown girl. If you’re not afraid to get Regan’s as
sessment of Gillian Stevens, I’m off next Saturday. I’m willing to reschedule dinner and let you bring your own date.”

Mitch glanced thoughtfully at the café. “She might be more comfortable going to someone’s house.” Turning back, he crossed his arms. “You’ve got to promise me Regan won’t launch one of her all-out psychology evaluations.”

“Aw, man. Regan tells everyone you’re her adopted brother. Maybe we’d better forget the whole thing if you’re gonna hold me responsible for any nosy questions my wife asks. Regan’s her own woman.”

“I know.” Mitch hooted. “It’s refreshing to know there’s a lady who doesn’t slaver like Taz every time you flash the famous Knight smile.”

“Now you’ve gone too far, Valetti. I never dated a woman who slavered.”

Mitch thumped Ethan’s chest with one finger. “Nor have I. Remember that, please.” Leaving his former partner, he ambled toward the café. At the curb he stopped and glanced back. “I’ll call tonight and let you know if she agrees. If she does, I want another concession. No shop talk. I’m not an officer anymore, and sometimes women bail when they’re forced to dwell on the bad stuff that can happen to a cop.”

“Okay. Sure. You have my permission to kick me under the table if I start talking about a case. But I have a feeling that old habits die hard….”

“I understand. It’s just…cop talk can get intense. And Ethan—talk about gut feelings. I can’t put it into words, but this lady…uh, darn.”

Ethan said nothing for a heartbeat. Then he feigned interest in what his dog was doing. “It’s no mystery to me, Valetti. You always had a weakness for a nice ass.”

Fighting a smile, Mitch returned to the café. That was point two he and Ethan agreed on concerning Gillian Stevens.

Embarrassed by the direction of his thoughts and afraid Gillian might read his mind, Mitch turned instead to plotting what he’d say to her when she came to take his order.

Good, the back booth was available. Easier to make a play without an audience.

Even if he no longer worked at the precinct, he had friends there and the place was a hotbed of gossip. If Gillian rejected him again, he could do without Amy getting wind of it. Why didn’t Gillian come and take his order? Maybe he was all wrong in thinking they felt a mutual attraction.

The crowd had thinned. But a full house wouldn’t have stopped Gillian from being aware of Mitch’s return. She found it odd that he’d passed several clean booths to hide in the corner. Or was someone joining him? She hated to think it might be Christy Jones. That would explain why he’d plant his back to the wall near a ready escape if Royce happened to stop by.

Heavens, she could be guessing all wrong. Maybe Ethan Knight went to collect materials on the case they’d disappeared outside to discuss. Again her heart did a flip. What if a handbill with her picture on it had come across his desk? What if they wanted to compare an old picture of Noelle McGrath with the waitress they knew as Gillian Stevens?

Pacing nervously, she tried to figure out if there was any likelihood of New Orleans or Flagstaff police finding out that Noelle McGrath’s birth name was really Gillian Noelle? It could all depend on what Daryl’s neighbor, the one who’d relayed his dying request, had told Daryl’s
brother, Conrad. Conrad was his only sibling—his only living relative. He’d never liked her much. No telling how he’d react once he discovered Daryl had kept her on as joint owner of McGrath CPA.

“Hey, what does it take to get service around here?” Mitch’s voice held a teasing quality. If not for that, Gillian might have been tempted to ask Flo to wait on him. No, she wasn’t a coward. Besides, Flo would demand an explanation if she tried too obviously to avoid Mitch.

Gillian plopped a glass of water and a menu down in front of him. “Sorry. I wasn’t ignoring you. You made such a point of wanting privacy, I assumed you were waiting for someone to join you.”

“I am.” He turned up the wattage of his smile. “This is about when you took a lunch break the other day. Truth is, I’m sick of my own company, and was hoping you’d consent to join me.”

“Oh, I…think there’s a rule about not fraternizing with customers.” Gillian hoped she sounded normal, even though she was dealing with a rising panic. She fumbled the napkin-wrapped silverware before dropping a set near his right hand.

Mitch steadied her elbow in time to keep the whole pack from spilling onto the floor. “Give me one good reason anyone would make such a stupid rule. You’re entitled to lunch. In fact, it comes with the job.”

Suddenly pulling back, Mitch inspected his hands. “I forgot I petted Taz. I probably smell like dog. Excuse me while I go wash. When I pass the kitchen, I’ll stick my head in and tell Bert I want a burger. Tell me what you want, and I’ll pass it on.”

Her sigh was probably more exasperation than capitulation. Mitch chose to misunderstand. Keeping his smile in place, he slid out of the booth and brushed against her,
murmuring, “My mother would tell you I’ve always known all the angles to get my own way.”

Gillian smiled in spite of herself. “Does your mother live in Desert City?”

He wasn’t fast enough to cover his guarded expression. “My parents winter in Palm Springs and summer in Vermont. Right now they’re somewhere in the Mediterranean finishing a world cruise. At least, that’s what their housekeeper told Ethan when he tried to notify them I’d been shot.” She was aware that he watched her closely as he spoke, as if to garner a reaction.

Gillian couldn’t hide her shock at his parents’ absence. “They didn’t come to see you?”

“No big deal.” His shrug matched his proclamation. Gillian noted a deeper pain in his eyes. Clearly he was hurt by his parents’ indifference—a revelation at odds with his tough-guy image.

She’d rather not think about the inner man. Her purpose in furthering their acquaintance had only one reason—to find out whether Mitch Valetti was connected to the criminals she’d seen him rendezvous with a few nights ago.
Keep all contact superficial.

Gillian McGrath had changed into a person no decent man would ask to lunch if he knew all the things she’d done these past few weeks.

That’s different,
insisted a little voice. And yet, long-ingrained values continued to increase her guilt.

“I’ve lost you again,” Mitch observed. “Oh, if you’re worried some fruitcake will walk in off the street and open fire on me, rest easy. I’m a simple rancher now, remember? My days of dealing with the bad guys are over.”

Gillian hoped she didn’t look as skeptical as she felt. His statement was pretty ironic; if the men from the blue
car walked in,
she’d
be the one shot at. “You go wash your hands. I’ll order your burger. You want coffee or a soft drink to go with it?”

“A pitcher of lemonade and two glasses. Even if you won’t sit down and eat with me, take time for a cool drink.”

“That sounds good. I’m not really hungry.”

Mitch took stock of the entire package that was Gillian Stevens. She was slender for her height. Too slender. From her remarks, she didn’t strike him as the type to be on a perpetual diet. “Bert fixes great homemade soup. A bowl of that would see you through the rest of your shift.”

“Soup. Did Flo put you up to this? She’s been talking about Bert’s potato-cheese soup as if it were some magic potion.”

Mitch clapped a hand across his heart. “I thought this up all on my lonesome. And
lonesome
is the operative word. Take pity on me, woman. I’ve spent the last three days and nights in the company of horses and a lop-eared pup. I’m wondering if I’m cut out for the solitary life of ranching.”

Gillian rolled her eyes. “Time to cowboy up. That’s a new term I learned the other day. It means—”

“I know. It means suck it up and quit whining. Join me for lunch and I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.” A smile brought deep, appealing creases to his cheeks.

“You never give up, do you?”