Witches of Three: Charlene by Temple Hogan Page A

Nick was gone, but he’d left a note on the pillow, which still bore the imprint of his head.

 
    Chapter Five
     
     
     
    ‘This is your captain speaking,’ the note said. ‘Don’t come in today. If you do, you’ll be sent home. I’ll see you tonight.’
    He’d drawn a smiley face at the end, and she laughed. She loved this playful side of Nick. She lay back, grateful she didn’t have to rush to get dressed, but the feeling soon passed. Restlessly, she threw aside the covers, sat up on the edge of the bed and thought about the events of the day before. The only way she could redeem herself with her department or with herself, she wasn’t sure which, was to find and arrest the man who’d shot Geronimo.
    Banned from the station and its computer database, she perched on a stool at the kitchen island with a cup of black coffee and thought what she could do. Her only resource, she quickly saw, was Sadie Headley, a prostitute who had become Charlie’s informant.
    Sadie was a sad case, with two small children and a dependent mother. She kept them all fed and housed with the money she earned on her back, but miraculously, in spite of the grimness of her life, she hadn’t turned to drugs. She hated what drugs had done to her neighborhood and feared that one day her children would fall prey to the substance that ruled her streets. For that reason, she’d turned to helping Charlie.
    Showering and throwing on a pair of jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt, Charlie grabbed her keys and headed to the door. Her sister, Phil, stood on the other side, her finger poised over the doorbell.
    “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” she asked brightly.
    “Out,” Charlie said shortly. Although she and Phil had become closer since their adventure in tracking down a suspect, there were still boundaries Charlie didn’t want crossed. “What are you doing here?”
    “I called the station, and they said you were at home today. Are you okay? I heard about the shooting. You weren’t hurt, were you? Where are you going?”
    “Which question do you want me to answer first?” Charlie stepped onto the stoop and locked the door behind her, hoping that would give Phil a hint.
    “I thought we could hang out together,” her sister said determinedly.
    Charlie knew she was really snooping to see what was going on with Nick. “I’m busy,” Charlie said evasively. “I’ve got a ton of errands to do.”
    “I’ll tag along,” Phil said. “Then we can stop for lunch and chat.”
    Charlie’s shoulders sagged in defeat. She knew how persistent Phil could be.
    “Look,” she said, facing her sister. “I have to check out something and if you’re there…”
    “What? I’ll be in the way? Pshaw!” Ever since Phil had inherited Aunt Agatha’s Victorian, she was given to such old-fashioned exclamations. “Remember how much help I was when we were chasing that horrible man who was involved with the death of Beck’s wife?”
    “This is different,” Charlie said weakly. She knew she was losing the argument.
    “How?” Phil demanded, her brows arched, her mouth pursed. Hands planted on her hips, she waited.
    Charlie sighed. “All right, come on,” she said grudgingly and headed to her car. “I’m going to see an informant, and if she thinks someone might give her away, she’ll disappear. You have to promise me you’ll stay in the car and do exactly what I say.”
    “Okay.” Phil nodded and buckled her seatbelt.
    They both knew the chances of her doing that were slim. Charlie drove to Lambert Street where Sadie plied her trade. Charlie wasn’t sure she’d be working this early in the day, but when she turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of the woman chatting to someone in a brown sedan. Charlie pulled next to the curb well back and waited.
    “Is that—is she a prostitute?” Phil exclaimed.
    “Yes, now duck down so she doesn’t see you,” Charlie ordered and got out of the car then paused to glare at her sister. “Get