* * *
THOUGH SHE HADN’T expected to, Chantel slept well Sunday night. She was in her own bed—in underwear, as she always slept—with the television she’d mounted on the wall across from her bed streaming sitcoms softly in the distance. When she awoke, they talked her back to sleep.
Probably helped that after two nights of extreme lovemaking, not to mention working two jobs, she was exhausted.
On the noon-to-eight shift through Wednesday, she could have been fully back into a normal routine—have a real chance to convince herself that what she felt for Colin Fairbanks had been an aberration—if not for the need to check on Julie. But the need fit her purpose, too. Visiting with Julie, at Colin’s behest, gave her the perfect excuse to hang out with her and steer the topic back to Leslie Morrison. To get Julie to trust her enough to tell her what she knew about Leslie’s battering.
Because one thing was quite clear to Chantel, most particularly after hearing that Colin was in enough with the other man that he’d already told him he was leaving town after only having found out an hour or so before. Whether Colin truly believed in the other man’s innocence where the rumors circulating about his wife were concerned or merely believed the justifications Morrison must surely be giving him, was immaterial to Chantel.
She wanted the truth. The man needed to be stopped.
A little hampered by her work schedule, she nevertheless called Julie Monday morning, hoping to find some time to get together for breakfast the following morning. Julie suggested that Chantel might want to come watch a movie with her that evening. When Chantel told her that she’d planned to work on her book until at least eight, Julie suggested that she spend the night at the mansion. That way they could enjoy a glass of wine. Watch a movie or not. And have breakfast together in the morning.
Remembering that breakfast with Colin was part of Julie’s normal routine, Chantel agreed immediately—mentally calculating the logistics of getting out of her police uniform, into Johnson’s clothes, packing a bag of Johnson’s things and driving Johnson’s rental car over to Colin’s house by nine. She’d have to pick up a Johnson-type overnight bag on her way into work and hightail it to the resort as soon as she was off shift.
With the new pseudo understanding between her and Daniel, she could pretty much plan to be off on time. He’d handle whatever might run them over shift if he thought she was dealing with her other “thing.”
Yes, it was all going to work. Was falling into place perfectly.
With renewed energy, she worked out in the poor excuse for a gym in her apartment complex, showered, dressed in jeans, boots and a T-shirt, pulled on her denim jacket and headed into the station a couple of hours early to check in with Wayne and help with whatever research she could.
She just wasn’t sure yet if she was going to tell him their rapist’s name. She wanted to. Trusted him. But didn’t know for sure that he’d know if someone else they’d trusted was lying to them.
Maybe Colin’s paranoia was wearing off on her. Maybe he wasn’t paranoid at all, and the man who oversaw the entire Santa Raquel police force, a man both she and Wayne trusted with their lives, really was bad.
She knew better than to keep anything from her partner. Most particularly on her first undercover assignment. But when she saw Wayne later that morning, she didn’t say a word.
* * *
IT WAS ALMOST five when Chantel’s cell phone rang. Harris’s phone. Johnson’s had received a couple of texts from Colin. He’d arrived in Japan. And he missed her.
She’d read and returned them both. She missed him, too. And would be spending the night at his house—a girls’ night with Julie.
He texted back telling her that he’d already texted his sister and insisted that Chantel sleep in his bed.
So he could imagine her there, she was sure. The pervert. But she’d be doing the same thing—lying on his sheets, smelling him, wishing...
When she saw Max’s name on her caller ID, she told Daniel she had to take a pee break and then called Max back immediately.
“What’s up?”
“Dr. Albertson’s gone, but I found someone else who talked to me,” he told her. “Someone who doesn’t want to be mentioned.”
“Another doctor?”
“Perhaps.”
She needed to know what he had, so she chose to let the informant particulars go for the moment.
“Albertson took a job in San Diego shortly after that night,” Max said. “My source said it was a sudden move. Albertson kept insisting she’d met someone and had put in for a transfer, but my source never completely believed her. In any case, Albertson left her one file. Said to keep it just in case. But not to do anything with it unless either Julie or Colin Fairbanks came asking for it.”