Protector - Laurel Dewey [107]
“Give you a hand?” Weyler asked, reaching for Jane’s luggage.
“Sure.” Jane felt her body tighten. Whether warranted or not, she regarded her boss with a modicum of suspicion.
Weyler trotted down the pathway and unlocked the hatchback of a station wagon. Jane walked toward the car with angst written across her face. “What’s this?”
“This is your new car.”
“Oh, dear God. Tell me you’re kidding.”
“It’s almost a brand-new Subaru Outback wagon.” Weyler slammed the hatchback shut. Jane moved closer, her mouth slightly agape. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out, Jane. It’s got cruise control, a sunroof and a CD player.”
“Really?” Jane said, still not believing she was expected to drive what she considered to be a boring, cookie-cutter, assembly-line car. “Wow, I just got a chill.”
“Save your sarcasm, would you?”
“What? I’m thrilled you decided you give me a vehicle that goes from zero to forty in no time flat! Where’s the dog?” Jane asked.
“The dog?”
“Don’t golden retriever/lab mixes usually come with the purchase of any Subaru wagon? I need a dog to complete the picture of the perfect single mom with her kid.”
“Are you done?”
Jane walked around the rear of the wagon and noted a series of stickers on the bumper. One was a cheerful blue-and-white sticker that proclaimed “I Brake For Butterflies!” Another read “Love Mother Earth” while still another urged people to recycle and save trees. “Where did you say you got this car?”
“It was part of a drug confiscation. The woman was a 52-year-old meth dealer.”
“A meth dealer owned this car? Well, glad to know there’s one meth dealer out there who brakes for butterflies.”
“We do need to get going.” Weyler slid his angular body into the car as Jane followed. “We’re meeting Emily at a drop point out by the old Stapleton Airport. I’ve asked one of the patrol officers to drive her there.”
“How is she?” Jane asked, carefully choosing her words.
“Physically, she seems to be quite well. Emotionally, she’s still shaken up. But I’m sure once she sees you, she’ll calm down.” Jane pulled out a cigarette. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t smoke while I’m in the car,” Weyler stated.
Jane put the cigarette back in the pack and looked out the window as Weyler drove down Milwaukee Street. She debated how to handle their time together. She would have to tread a tenuous line between treating him like her boss and addressing him as if he were a suspect. More than anything, if Weyler was involved in a covert police deal, Jane wanted to make sure that she didn’t let on. “So,” Jane said, “does this happen a lot?”
“How do you mean?”
Jane kept looking out the window. She knew if her eyes met Weyler’s, she could possibly give herself away. “You know, have there been instances in the past when detectives have had to lay low with a witness?”
“There’s been a few,” Weyler said, adjusting the rearview mirror.
“I see. Do you pick the same town each time?”
“That’s confidential information.”
“Uh-huh,” Jane responded, feeling very uneasy. While it wasn’t in her to petition someone or beg them for forgiveness, somehow she felt that perhaps a last minute appeal might help. “You know, boss, I know I haven’t been the model cop for a while. And I can understand if you . . .” Jane searched for the right words, “if you were so pissed off that you decided to teach me some sort of lesson—”
“This is not about teaching you any lesson, Jane—”
“I’m just saying if it were, so be it. But Emily doesn’t deserve to be dragged into some sort of mess because of me.” Jane knew if she went any further, Weyler would become too suspicious.
“As long as you do as I asked, you’ll be fine.” Weyler’s response sounded oddly tart to Jane. “Keep the pager on and only call me when you absolutely have to. I’ll do the same. Remember, do everything you can to blend in.”
Jane’s ears perked up at the same words her father repeated the night before. “Blend in. Right.” Jane tried to shake off a sense of foreboding. “You talk to Chris?”
“No. He left a message on my voice mail that he was heading back to Lake Dillon. He mentioned