In Too Deep(33)

"Part of what?" I yelled, pushing him in the chest. "Nearly getting us killed? Packing heat? Is that thing even legal?"

"It is, and I have a totally legit concealed carry license as well," Cam said, ignoring my hands and going back to the truck, putting the pistol in the driver's seat. "And I never tried to get you killed."

"Well, what do you call this?!” I screamed, shoving him again. I raised my hand to smack him, expecting him to block it or try and grab my wrist. Instead, I slapped him across the face as hard as I could, rocking his head to the left and sending a final crack across the desert that was quickly swallowed by the wind.

Cam turned his face to look at me again, and I blanched. My fingernails had torn two furrows in his cheek, the blood already welling up to drip down his cheek. I could also see the pain in his eyes, but it wasn't from the slap itself, but at how upset I was. "Melina, I promise you I'll explain all of this, but now’s not the time. The driver's nearly here."

His quiet, plaintive voice doused my anger in a splash of icy water. I nodded and broke down, sobbing as Cam wrapped his arms around me. "What is going on?"

"I promise, I'll tell you. But I can't right now. The less you know for the next day, the better. It'll protect you."

The truck driver came up, huffing from the shuffling run he'd been doing. "Gawddam," he drawled in what had to be the world's most perfect country-western accent. "You two okay?"

"We're not hurt,” Cam said. “Where’s the car that hit us?”

"Ah, that sumbitch took off like he had a rocket up his ass," the driver said, pointing. "I called the Highway Patrol, but I didn't get a plate on the guy. They should be here soon. You sure you okay partner? You're bleedin'."

Cam nodded as I stayed where I was, the driver's words causing me to sob anew. The driver didn't say anything, although I could hear him shuffling from side to side while we waited for the cops to arrive.





* * *



"So you have no clue at all why this car was chasing you?"

It was nearly ten at night, and I was exhausted. With the dump of adrenaline from the chase wearing off, I'd spent the past two hours feeling like something the cat had dragged in. Instead of being able to sleep it off in bed, I was sitting in a cramped room back in Las Cruces. It was technically a meeting room for the State Police, but it sure as hell felt like an interrogation room to me.

It didn't help that the cop who was questioning me seemed to have learned everything he knew about asking questions from watching The Wire or The Shield. About the only thing missing from his approach was a burning cigarette stinking up the place.

"I told you, I have no idea who the hell that was," I answered for what seemed like the thousandth time. "I was in Las Cruces to do some shopping with my boyfriend, and as we were driving back the guy came up behind us. When it looked like he was going to hit us, Cam tried getting out of the way, but the guy chased us. He hit us as we were trying to get away, and spun us out into the desert."

"So for no reason at all, some psycho in an SUV decides to run you off the road?"

I rolled my eyes, this cop's idea of changing details to try and trip me up was rather pathetic. "Not an SUV. A car. A black one. Where's Cam?"

"Mr. Swagger is talking with another detective," the cop said. Of course, they couldn't call it questioning since technically we hadn't been arrested for anything yet. But Cam told me quietly as we’d gotten into the police car that I should cooperate. There was something in his voice that told me he knew what he was doing, so I went along with it.

Still, my patience was reaching its limit. "You've gotten all the details I know," I said. "If you don't mind, I'm hungry and I'd like to get some dinner."

I stood up, the cop shaking his head. "Sit down, Miss Browder."

"Am I being detained?" I asked. "Because from what I know, you haven't arrested me, you haven't detained me, and if you are, then you need to inform me of my rights. At which point I'm going to invoke my right to remain silent until I see Cam. So no, I'm not going to sit down Detective . . . you know what, I don't even remember your name."

I walked out into the main squad room, doing my best to not look like a harried, pissed off woman. The few cops still on duty watched but left me alone while the detective came out. "Miss Browder, please," he said, getting in front of me. "All right, no more questions, I can get you some coffee or tea. It's just that Mr. Swagger is still talking in the other room, that's all."

"That's all?" I said, arching my eyebrow. "A traffic accident, albeit a strange one, and you still want to talk to us hours after it happened. That's all?"

The detective sighed and nodded. "Listen, it's above my pay grade, that's all I know. Fifteen minutes after the two of you got here, I got pulled aside and told to keep you busy. Meanwhile, my Captain took over questioning, and that guy hasn't done any questioning since I joined the force a decade ago. Sorry about the heavy handed line, I just didn't know what else to do. My only instructions since then were to keep you from leaving until my superior is done. So come on, just have a seat in the lounge, okay?"

I sighed, looked around, then nodded. "Fine. But you pass on to your bosses that I want to see Cam. Ten minutes, no more."