Holding Out For A Hero. Pamela TracyЧитать онлайн книгу.
said. “Trust me—”
This time, it was Riley who interrupted with a wry laugh. “As a cop, you can’t afford to trust.” Then, as an afterthought, he said, “Trust me on that.”
Oscar knew all about trust and its power. He could say the word even if he couldn’t believe in it. He’d learned the hard way that trust was fleeting, and now he stayed away from commitments unless they were to his immediate family or his job. Most of all, he spurned serious relationships. He didn’t want to marry, have a family, only to have it fall apart due to his work hours and conditions.
He never wanted to disappoint those who believed in him.
No one had been able to find his father. Now Oscar worked for an organization who not only found people but also actually made the world better.
Oscar would find Larry Wagner.
He would find Candace’s killer.
Unlike the police in his hometown, he would not give up. Funny how he’d wound up on the Sarasota Falls force. It was even smaller than Runyan’s.
Oscar wondered if that was why Chief Riley hadn’t paid more attention to a stranger named Larry Wagner when he’d come to town. Oscar would have.
Chief Riley wasn’t perfect, but he was a decent cop. Oscar hurried to keep up. “Candace wasn’t someone who would cheat.”
“You never know what really goes on behind closed doors.”
“Why don’t you let me talk to Shelley? Maybe, because I’m new and closer to her age, she’d be more likely to share.”
Riley raised an eyebrow. “You do much interrogating? That badge is still pretty shiny. And she already knows you were watching her even before the Livingston woman’s murder.”
“Can’t learn without opportunity.”
Riley shook his head. “I think she’d trust you more because of that fool dog of yours, not your age, but go ahead. Shelley’s car is over there. Convince her to get out of it and come in the station. She’s probably got cold feet.”
Oscar turned around. Sure enough, Shelley sat in her green Impala with her head leaning forward against the steering wheel. Slowly he walked toward her, trying to figure out what to say.
He thought about his job, his town, his state of mind. Maybe right now, as restless as he was, he needed to be here. Needed the ordinary before the extraordinary. He’d decided to be a cop when he was just ten years old and caught a rerun of some old cop show featuring a hero in every single episode. Oscar’d been enthralled. This cop would never run out on his wife and children. He’d wanted to protect people. Oscar figured the FBI was one step beyond that.
Extraordinary.
As much as he wanted excitement, craved it, he’d also loved how just a simple helping hand made a difference. He’d wound up changing a tire while on duty and heard later that it did indeed fall under his job description. Riley called it community policing.
He wished that was all he was doing with Shelley.
He rapped on her window. The look in her eyes as she climbed out of her vehicle told him how unhappy she was, yet she kept a smile for Ryan, who was just waking up and crawling over the seat and out of the car after her. He held a toy truck in one hand and a cookie in the other. “Want to go home. Now. Want Pooh.”
“Not yet,” Shelley said, pulling Ryan close to her side. “We’re just stopping by to answer a few more questions.”
“Don’t like it here,” Ryan said.
“Officer Bailey—that is, Leann—is on her way,” Riley said as they escorted Shelley and Ryan into an interrogation room. “She’ll be here in five minutes to watch over Ryan.”
“This shouldn’t take long,” Shelley said, for the first time her voice soft, no edge. “Can’t he stay with me?”
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