Got Your Number

you say so. Now, how do I go about finding Melissa Cape?"
    A hollow laugh escaped her. "You must be joking."
    With one blink, his mood changed—for the worse. "I'm deadly serious, Ms. Beadleman. I intend to find the woman, and I intend for you to help me."
    Panic licked at the nape of her neck. This man was someone to be reckoned with. "If Melissa Cape disappeared to escape a psycho, then what does that make the man who would send her back?"
    A rueful smile curled his mouth as he shook his head. "I think that people like you believe you're doing the right thing, but pardon me if I believe the police are in a better position to help Melissa Cape than a bunch of bra-burners."
    Quiet anger sparked in her belly, but she knew he was trying to get a rise out of her, hoping she would let something slip. "If Melissa Cape turned to Rescue for help, she obviously thought different."
    His chest ballooned out with a deep inhale, then he rubbed his shoulder, as if it were bothering him. His knuckles on his right hand were scabbed—she hoped that whoever had been on the receiving end of his punch had actually deserved it.
    "Look," he said wearily. "Your little secret do-good organization is a burr on the ass for people like me, but right now, I couldn't care less about the father's visitation. The Cape woman has knowledge of a crime that can't be prosecuted without her testimony."
    "What kind of crime?"
    "An armed robbery, during which a police officer was critically wounded. We suspect her husband pulled the trigger."
    "All the more reason the louse shouldn't have been granted visitation with his daughter, and all the more reason for him to want Melissa dead—to keep her from testifying." She shook her head. "I can't help you."
    He frowned. "I didn't finish my coffee, so I'm a little cranky."
    "I was just fired, so I'm a little cranky."
    A muscle ticked in his neck, red with razor burn. "At least tell me if the Rescue people relocated her."
    "I know enough about the organization to know its clients are promised confidentiality."
    A mocking light flamed in his eyes. "I guess I could hope that the Cape woman has a change of heart like the lady in the newspaper article."
    Roxann lifted her chin. "If Melissa Cape sought refuge through Rescue, she must've had reason to believe her life or her child's life was in danger. By pursuing her, you could be making things worse."
    "That doesn't change the fact that I have a comatose cop on my hands."
    "Better a comatose cop than a comatose cop and a dead witness."
    He opened his mouth, then wiped away whatever he'd been about to say and sighed. "Ms. Beadleman, the best way to keep Melissa Cape safe is to put her ex-husband behind bars, but we can't do that without her testimony."
    "And she'll have your personal guarantee that he won't get off on a technicality?"
    His neck muscle ticked.
    "And even if the man is convicted of armed robbery and attempted murder, he faces what—a few years?"
    "Six to ten."
    "So what happens when he gets out early due to prison overcrowding? He'll kill her for sure."
    "We'd protect her."
    "Right." Roxann shook her head. "Detective, what makes you think I would help you even if I could?"
    He pursed his mouth, then shrugged. "I guess I'm counting on whatever sense of duty drove you to work for this organization in the first place." Then he angled his head. "Unless you're a fake."
    Without knowing it, he'd hit a nerve. After the legal system had deprived her of her mother, an innate sense of judiciousness had embedded itself in her belly. She rooted for the underdog, adopted the strays, gravitated toward the outcasts, and in general, tried to build her life on the foundation of doing what was right. And except for a couple of deviations—
    "Come on, Ms. Beadleman, I'm running out of patience."
    She blinked, then looked him over. A big man with a badge whose loyalty lay with a fellow uniform. She admired his allegiance, but she wasn't about to betray Melissa Cape out of sympathy for the wounded officer. Melissa was safe, and she deserved to be left alone to start a new life for herself and her daughter.
    "Goodbye, Detective. I have an appointment with the want ads." She pivoted and attacked the path with her trusty blue Adidas.
    "The next time I see you," he shouted, "I just might arrest you for assault and obstruction of justice."
    She didn't look back, but her skin burned from his gaze. Had she seemed as vulnerable as she felt? When she looped around the