1:30 p.m.

After familiarizing myself with the case files and joining several Anonymous causes, I came across an operation that dealt with crooked cops, and my stomach sank to my feet. Levaughn would never forgive me if I didn’t give him a head’s up about the case, but Tex told me not to mention it to anyone. Conflicted, I dialed Levaughn’s cell. Couldn’t hurt to feel him out, right?

He answered, “Samuels.”

Detective Levaughn Samuels, a black man with flawless bronze skin, perfect teeth, and muscles galore. Mm-mmm. Even his voice sent tingles to all the right places. No chicks better be hangin’ around, or I’d teach them a lesson for breaking rule number one of the girl code. And I don’t mean with words.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Babe, how’s the seminar going?”

“Umm, good.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” Dammit. My voice pitched like an adolescent. No way would he not pick up on it. I cleared my throat. “I mean, nothin’. So, whatcha doin’?”

“Actually, I’ve been here all night. Fatal car crash.”

As if zapped by a lightning rod, my heart crashed through my ribcage. “What kinda car?”

“Why?”

“No reason.”

“Shawnee, you don’t ask questions for no reason. What’s up?”

“Do ya think it’s an accident?”

“Okay, now you’re starting to scare me. What’s really going on?”

“I told you, I’m fine. What’s with the twenty questions?”

Low and loud, he sighed. “Do I think it was an accident?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because witnesses heard calls for help before the crash. Also, we couldn’t find any brake marks.”

“That the only reason?”

“Daniels,” he warned. “The only way you’d be curious about this case is if you had some stake in it. If you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help.”

“Anyway, I should probably get back to work. Miss you.”

“I miss you too, more than you’ll ever know.”

As I glanced at my computer, an invisible fist gut-punched me. How could I keep him safe without divulging what I knew? Actually, maybe there was a way around it. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Okay,” he said, hesitant.

“Under no circumstances can you drive the Crown Vic.”

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me, okay?”

Dead silence came over the line.

Shit. Why did I open my mouth? “Levaughn, you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“Promise me you won’t drive that car.”

“How can I make that promise? It’s my only set of wheels.”

“Then borrow another vehicle from the lot. Anything but a Ford. I don’t care. Just please, please don’t drive your car.”

His tone softened. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Positive,” I lied. “Will you do it?”

“Shawnee, we’re cops. All we drive are Fords.”

Fuck! He’s right. Patrol cars and SUVs were both made by Ford. Interceptors for uniformed officers, Crown Victorians for detectives. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it?

“Look,” I said. “Gimme twenty-four hours. Can you do that? Can you not drive for one frickin’ day? One day! Call in sick, or somethin’. Promise me, Levaughn. This is important.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll hitch a ride home with Mancini, but if I get called to a crime scene I’ll have no choice but to drive.”

“Thank you. I know in the past I’ve given you plenty of reasons not to trust me, but I swear this time is different.”

“Call me tonight. Mancini’s walking out now. I better go. Love you.”

“Wait.”

A dial tone hummed.

Oh my God. Mancini drove a Crown Vic too.