“What kind of an understanding?” Adam crossed his arms, and suspicion deepened the grooves in his forehead.
Brit leaned back in the straight chair until he had it balanced on the back two legs. “She’s told me everything she knows. I believe her. She’s a victim in this, not a suspect.”
“Maybe Quarles should question her. To make sure.” Adams kept his gaze on Brit as if reading between the lines.
But damn, was he that readable? “He wouldn’t get anything that I haven’t already gotten.”
“Make sure what you’re getting doesn’t get us in trouble.”
Brit snapped his chair forward. “What are you saying?”
“You know what I’m saying. We might need her to testify. Don’t do anything to jeopardize this case, Lowell.” He turned back to Quarles. “From now on, all contact between that girl and this force happens through you. Lowell stays away from her.”
“That’s bullshit.” Brit gritted his teeth. No way would he stay away from Cali. He wasn’t sleeping with her. Well, he was, but that’s all he was doing. The fact that he wanted to do more was none of Adams’ damn business.
“It’s not bullshit. I call the shots.” Adams tossed down an envelope in front of Quarles. “Ballistics came back on the bullet they got out of the chick’s apartment. It’s the same one they pulled out of the Clear Lake motel . We haven’t gotten the blood results back, but it looks like the boyfriend is the guy. Make sure that she isn’t trying to protect him.”
~
The owner of the first honky-tonk where Stan and the band had played wasn’t in when Brit and Quarles stopped by. The manager at the second bar could talk someone under the table, but he offered nothing new.
When Brit and Quarles got back into his SUV, Quarles moved the files to the back seat. His partner, normally too chatty, had been quiet since they left the precinct. Brit had an idea what kept Quarles from being his chipper self, too.
“I’m not having sex with her.” Yet. Brit started the engine.
“I didn’t ask,” Quarles said, knowing exactly who “her” was. “But I do need to know how you want to work it.”
“I’m not going to change a damn thing just because Adams believes I’m getting it on with her.”
“That’s fine. But Adams might be right. If I questioned her, maybe I’d be able to get something more.”
“She’s told me everything she knows.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” And he was. Wasn’t he?
“Fine.” Quarles held up his hands. “But you’d better be right, because if she’s lying, it’s my ass on the line, too.”
~
Brit snatched his windbreaker and headed out of the building. He’d had a frustrating day and the only thing he craved right now was Cali. Pushing open the door, he stormed across the parking lot.
A terrible soulful sound of a cat’s cry brought him to a quick halt. He swung around and saw a white van parked with the back doors opened. Then he noticed the painted paw prints on the vehicle’s door. The shelter? A heavyset man walked to the van with a cat carrier in his arms. The box dangled from side to side as if heavy.
The cat’s cry echoed again. Brit’s stomach clutched. This was the right thing, he told himself, and took another step to his SUV. Anderson had called the shelter. The one who wouldn’t kill her or her kittens. Right thing.
He got into his SUV, put his key in the ignition. The cat’s cries echoed again. Right thing. He closed his eyes.
He got out and hotfooted it to the van just as the man climbed into the front seat. “Hey.” Brit knocked on the van’s window.
The man rolled down the glass. “Yeah?”
“Mike Anderson called you, right?” At the sound of Brit’s voice, the mama cat howled. The pitiful sound made his chest clutch.
“Anderson?” the man asked.
“You’re the shelter that doesn’t put them down, right?”
He shrugged. “We try to adopt them out, but we’ve got so many.”
Brit gritted his teeth. “You’re not from the no-kill shelter?”
He shrugged again. “Look, I’m just doing my job.”
The cat howled again. “Shit!” Brit said.
~
An hour and a hundred dollars later, Brit stood in his laundry room filled with cat supplies. He had the cat box set up and food and water doled out. The three or four-week-old kittens, one black and two grays, and their mama hid behind the drier. Mama Cat, not happy about being relocated, stuck her head out and hissed at him.
“It’s just temporary,” Brit told her. “As soon as I find a no-kill shelter, you’ll get a real home.”
Hurrying to get a shower, he wondered where Susan was, but since her car wasn’t out front he figured she was either at his mom’s or with Quarles. But damn that whole thing didn’t sit well with him.