Two months later
Andi Matthews was no stranger to murder. She'd focused her entire college career on studying the profiles of killers and perfecting the procedures for gathering the evidence needed to win convictions. For the past nine years she'd worked for the Red Rock Police Department, had personally investigated close to fifty murders and put nearly that same number of criminals behind bars. She knew how a murderer's mind worked, what fueled their need to kill and what mistakes they might make that would lead to their arrests.
But she'd never considered committing murder herself. Until today.
From the moment Chief Prater had assigned Gabe Thunderhawk to work with her to identify the body of the Lost Fortune — the tag given to the floater discovered at Lake Mondo — she'd known she was in for trouble. Everyone on the force knew that Gabe wanted a promotion to detective, and this was the perfect chance for him to prove he was qualified to handle the job.
Intellectually she understood what a boon the successful closing of the case would be to his career. Because of the crown-shaped birthmark on the floater's right hip that linked the body with the Fortune family, solving the case would give him a level of publicity and notoriety that no other case could offer.
But understanding his motive in no way excused his behavior. Not in Andi's opinion. She was the primary on this case and she was sick and tired of him working independently from her. They were supposed to be partners, a team, a fact that she intended to remind him of the moment he showed up…if he ever did.
She stopped her agitated pacing in front of the police station and shoved up the sleeve of her blazer to check the time. Her frown deepened, as she noted that he was now over thirty minutes late.
"Okay, Thunderhawk," she muttered under her breath. "What are you up to now?"
While playing the possibilities through her mind, she recalled mentioning the day before that they should requestion the fishing guide who had found the body. Figuring Gabe had taken it upon himself to do the job alone — and upstaging her should he get lucky — she headed for her unmarked, city-issue Ford sedan.
The twenty-minute drive to Lake Mondo gave her ample time to work up a pretty good head of steam. By the time she arrived at Hook 'n Go, the bait shop where the fishing guide usually hung out, and found Gabe's truck parked out front, she was a slash mark beyond the boiling point. Prepared to read him the riot act for his traitorous behavior the moment he showed his doublecrossing face, she braced a hip against the hood of his truck, folded her arms across her chest and waited.
Her timing was perfect, as moments later the door of the bait shop opened and Gabe appeared. Seemingly unaware of her presence, he paused in the doorway, conversing with someone inside. He didn't appear rushed or harried, a fact that grated on her already raw nerves, since he'd kept her cooling her heels for almost an hour. But Gabe never seemed to get in a hurry, a trait the guys on the force attributed to his Native American heritage. That same heritage was evidenced by his high slash of cheekbones, the bronze tint of his skin, his dark hair and eyes. Most women considered him dropdead handsome. Normally Andi would've agreed.
Today she considered him nothing but a royal pain in the ass.
"I appreciate your time," she heard him say to the person inside. "If you think of anything, you've got my card." The slap of the screen door closing was followed by the scrape of his boot soles on the worn wooden steps as he headed for his truck.
When he spotted Andi, he slowed slightly, then strode on, his brow wrinkled in puzzlement.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought we were supposed to meet at the station."
"Oh, we were," she replied, then pushed away from his truck, with a scowl, and leveled a warning finger at his nose. "Listen up, Thunderhawk, and listen good. Whether you like it or not, I'm the primary on this investigation, and nothing is done outside of my presence or without my prior knowledge, including interviewing individuals associated with this case."
He held up a hand. "Now, wait a minute. You're the one who said we should talk to the fishing guide again."
"Yes, I did. But we didn't talk to him, you did, and after being told repeatedly that we work as a team." She narrowed an eye. "I'm warning you, Gabe, if you continue to undermine my authority, I'll request that Chief Prater remove you from the case."
He hitched his hands on his hips in frustration. "What is it with you, anyway? You act like I'm sneaking around behind your back."
"Well, aren't you?"
"What I was trying to do was save us both some time."
"And how did you plan to do that, when I've been sitting on my hands at the station for over an hour waiting for you?"
"My place is a couple of miles from here. I figured I'd stop by on my way into town, question the guide, then meet you at the station and report my findings. Is it my fault the fishing guide is a Chatty Cathy?"
Though his explanation made sense, she didn't trust him. Not for a minute. This wasn't the first time he'd struck out on his own without first discussing his plans with her. But to continue to debate his insubordination would be unproductive and a waste of more of her time.
She released a breath and, along with it, some of her anger. "All right," she said, grudgingly. "But next time check with me first or I swear I'll file a complaint with the chief."
"Fine."
Determined to focus her mind on the investigation and away from her irritation with her so-called partner, she asked, "Did the guide have anything new to say?"
He lifted a shoulder.'same story he gave the day he found the body."
She hadn't expected the man would remember anything new. But after two months with no new leads on the case, there was nothing left to do but backtrack, in hopes of finding something they'd missed the first time through.
Continues...
Excerpted from In The Arms Of The Law by Peggy Moreland Copyright © 2005 by Peggy Moreland. Excerpted by permission.
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