The Rookie. Julie Miller

child.”

      Rachel twirled her finger into the curling phone cord, wanting to believe him. “Are you sure?”

      “The donor’s name isn’t even listed in your file. Here it is. Only the number is recorded. 93579.”

      “Can you tell me who 93579 is?” she asked.

      Washburn’s laugh this time seemed more genuine. “Now that would be betraying his confidence.”

      Rachel couldn’t see the humor in anything that might pose a threat to her baby.

      “Tell you what. I’ll cross-reference the donor’s file and see if there’s anything there that would make me suspicious of his having the opportunity to contact you.”

      “What would make you suspicious?” Rachel pulled her shoulders back and stood up straighter. Was there a possibility the father knew her? “I thought you screened all your donor candidates.”

      “We do. We do. But his social circle might cross yours somewhere that we missed before. Perhaps you let the number slip and he recognized it.”

      Social circles, huh? That would require a social life. Of which she had none. Her life revolved around school and her baby. Other than a few solitary errands and her twice-weekly trip to the Y for a water-aerobics class, she spent her time either on campus or at home. “I don’t think so, Dr. Washburn. The donor’s number is nothing I’ve ever discussed with anyone but you. But I’d appreciate any information you could give me.”

      “I’ll read through the file and call you tomorrow.” She overlooked the patronizing gratitude in his voice. The man was probably relieved she hadn’t pushed the issue any further.

      “Thank you.”

      By the time she hung up the phone she felt exhausted. The baby had snuggled into a comfortable position and fallen asleep. But Rachel couldn’t afford to surrender to her own fatigue—be it physical or emotional.

      Maybe that note was just a stupid prank perpetrated by one of her students. But she couldn’t afford to just let it slide without checking out every possibility.

      Her baby’s future depended on it.

      JOSH STIRRED THE SPOON around in his mug of coffee. He hadn’t added any sugar, but it gave him something to do while he waited for his contact to join him at the secluded table of the Bookstore Coffee House, a few blocks west of the UMKC campus.

      Almost as if the thought had summoned him, a trim, well-built man with glossy black hair and golden-brown eyes slid into the seat across from him. “So, how’s college life treating you? You flunking any of your classes yet?”

      Josh looked up and grinned at A. J. Rodriguez. He was learning to appreciate the undercover detective’s dry sense of humor. He responded in kind. “I’m doing well enough to maintain my self-respect, but not so well that I can’t fit in with the party crowd.”

      A.J. sipped on the frothy cappuccino he’d brought with him. “Gotten any invitations yet?”

      “Yeah. I’m heading to a party tonight. I’ve been told that if I can find my way into the back room, I can get my hands on more than a free beer.”

      His companion nodded. “Good. Remember, don’t push too hard at first. Find out who your friends are. If you do spot some meth, just note who has it and if it’s all for private use or split up for resale.”

      Josh shrugged. “I know the drill. I overlook the underage drinking because this is reconnaissance, not arrest time. I’ll do my job. I know Lieutenant Cutler is waiting for me to screw up so he can deny my promotion. Besides the fact I’ve earned that detective shield, I don’t intend to give him the satisfaction.”

      A.J. raised his hands in mock surrender. “Cutler rides everybody hard. ‘By the book’ is not always a bad way to go.”

      “You follow your own rules and you made detective.” A.J.’s smile flashed bright white against his olive skin. “That’s because I’m a charming Hispanic and the precinct had to meet its quota for ranking minority officers.”

      Josh seriously doubted A.J. had ever achieved his successes on anything less than his own merit. But he played along with the joke. “So you’re saying if you had blond hair, blue eyes and your cousin was captain of the precinct, you’d still be walking a beat?”

      “If I had blond hair and blue eyes in the neighborhood where I walked a beat, I’d be toast.” A.J. swirled the coffee around in his cup, then changed the joking mood before taking another sip. “I didn’t agree to be your contact with the department just because Cutler assigned me. I’ve got your big brother to answer to.”

      “Cole’s not a cop anymore.” A.J.’s gaze followed a pair of girls who walked past, his eyes convincingly glued to their curvy backsides. “You don’t know that.”

      “Cole walked away from the force two years ago. He does private security work now.”

      “If you say so.” A.J. dragged his gaze back to Josh. The detective had to be in his mid-thirties, but he blended into the scenery with these trendy young students as if he wasn’t a day over twenty-two. Josh hoped his cover was half as convincing.

      “Is there something you want to tell me?” Josh asked.

      The rest of the cappuccino disappeared in one last gulp. A.J. scrubbed the remaining foam from his lips with a paper napkin. “What Cole does now is his own business. But the man was my partner for eight years. Since you’re looking to take his place in the drug enforcement division, it seems a natural step to start watching your back.”

      Josh bristled at A.J.’s words. “I’m not taking anybody’s place. I’m making my own.”

      A.J. nodded, showing no reaction to Josh’s declaration. “Poor choice of words. I apologize. Cutler can be a controlling SOB, but he’s fair. You clean the meth off this campus, and he’ll give you that promotion.”

      “Can I get that in writing?” Josh accepted the apology and support with a teasing smile.

      “There are no guarantees in this business.” A.J. slipped his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here’s a number where you can reach me at any hour. The line’s secure.” After he pushed the note across the tabletop, A.J. leaned back and rolled his shoulder. His mouth tightened with a wince of pain.

      “Still stiff?” Josh knew A.J.’s wound from the Pittmon bust two months ago had done some muscle damage that would be slow to heal. The fact one of the precinct’s best undercover men was out of commission was probably one reason Josh had gotten this assignment. That, and his youthful, wrinkle-free smile.

      “A little. When the weather’s about to change, it gets worse.” He shrugged his good shoulder. “I’m not used to sitting on the sidelines.”

      “Don’t worry. I’ll call you if I need some backup.”

      “You better. I don’t want to have to explain you getting hurt to anyone in your family.” A.J. pulled a stocking cap over his head and stood. “Got any personal messages you want to send out?”

      Josh considered the request. “Tell Ma hi and that I’m okay. She worries.”

      A.J. nodded. “Where does she think you’ve been these past few weeks? Lying on the beach with some sweet young thing?”

      An unexpected image of Rachel Livesay popped into his head. With those kissable lips and expressive green eyes, his psych professor was sweeter than any young thing he’d seen waltz by this table or anyplace on campus. He’d dated a lot of women in his time. But never anyone more than a couple of years older than him, and never anyone who was pregnant.

      He wasn’t quite sure how to explain his fascination with the older woman. Maybe it was the fact that she’d been distressed over her run-in with David Brown—and for an instant afterward, they’d connected. He’d waited in that hallway