Breach of Honor

by Janice Cantore

  “I guess that’s my cue to leave. Take care, Leah.” He backed toward his car as Clint slowly climbed out of his truck.

  “Hey, I can make coffee for all of us.”

  “You know what they say—three’s a crowd.”

  Clint nodded toward him. Marvin met him and they shared a brief greeting. Strangely, Leah was relieved that Marvin decided to leave. Have I really changed that much? she wondered.

  And even though she knew that he shouldn’t be out driving around, she was glad to see Clint.

  Clint’s anxiety faded a bit when he saw Marvin Sapp. He knew Leah and Marvin were academy classmates and Sapp had been concerned about her from the beginning. He’d been the first officer on scene that fateful morning. Maybe Leah was just visiting and had her phone off.

  Clint had raced over after calling her five times and getting no answer. Now that he saw he’d overreacted big-time, he hoped Leah wouldn’t be annoyed.

  Working not to show Sapp or Leah his angst, he kept his tone light. “Hey, Marvin, what’s up?”

  “Nothing much, Sarge, just out saying hello. Kind of wondering what you’re doing up and about.”

  “Not really good at sitting around on my butt.”

  “I get that.” Sapp glanced back toward Leah. Clint followed his gaze and saw that she had the dog in her arms.

  “I’ll be on my way, then,” Sapp said. He climbed into his car, turned around in the large driveway, and left.

  Clint walked stiffly to where Leah stood and stifled a smile. She looked so perfect there, holding the pup—they were made for each other.

  “Don’t you answer your phone?” he asked casually and with a smile.

  “Sorry; went for a walk. I didn’t have it with me. Just not used to having one in my possession.” Then he saw realization dawn in her eyes. “Wait—you’re here because I didn’t answer my phone?”

  “Busted. I played your voice mail and tried to call you back. Worry can be a reflex.”

  “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you’re here. I wanted to talk to you.”

  As they walked into the house, she told him about the TRO and its parameters.

  Clint shook his head. “I can’t believe it. Makes me wonder more about Revel. Was he a Hangman?”

  “I don’t know. I know he and Harden are close.”

  “Gretchen’s on it, right?”

  “Yeah, she is. But it was a shock. On top of that, I had a strange visitor.”

  Once inside the house, Leah set the puppy down, and he bounced and wagged his way over to Clint. He grinned.

  “So glad you didn’t forget me.” He picked the pup up, turned him over in the crook of his bad arm, and rubbed his belly, to the dog’s obvious delight. But as with most pups, he had to test the world out with his teeth, and he sank them into the sleeve of Clint’s flannel shirt.

  “Hey, Buster, that’s enough of that,” Clint said as he disengaged the teeth and set the dog down.

  “Buster? Is that his name?”

  “I guess it is. It fits.” They both watched the dog as he squirmed in and around Clint’s feet. “Buster Brown . . . I think it fits like a glove.”

  Leah laughed, and Clint liked the sound.

  “You’re right. He is a Buster! Tons of personality, this guy.” She knelt down and gave him a belly rub.

  “Who was your visitor?” Clint asked, stepping reluctantly back into the real world.

  Leah stood. “Have a seat.”

  He sat, absentmindedly playing with the dog when he buzzed by for attention, while Leah told him about her strange encounter with Richard Chambers.

  “He said he didn’t want to be seen talking to you—by who?”

  “He didn’t say.” Leah shrugged. “Marvin just told me that Chambers retired on a medical.”

  Clint nodded. “Officially, I guess that’s it. Chambers was lost after—well, without Brad. He was always a follower. Then SAT was disbanded. He floundered and never did much good police work.”

  “What truly happened with SAT?”

  “It’s close to what you probably read. Forman wasn’t really a supervisor and all the guys were off doing whatever they wanted. You probably already knew this, but Brad was for all intents and purposes the real leader of the squad, and they didn’t do much smuggling apprehension.”

  “I really had no inkling then. I guess I had blinders on. I’m getting the big picture now.”

  “Racer covered for Brad in everything. Brad was the pied piper everyone followed. He did a little police work, but only if he thought the arrest would burnish his image. Without him SAT was counterproductive.”

  Leah nodded, remembering how Brad loved accolades. “After they discovered all this, why wasn’t Forman fired?”

  “He almost was. But there was a lack of solid evidence. He ended up with a two-week suspension without pay. Since then, other than the fact that he’s as warm and fuzzy as a porcupine, he’s been doing his job.”

  “He learned his lesson?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Chambers insinuated that what happened to you is somehow connected to what I saw that night and my wanting to look into it.”

  “That’s a tough one. I can’t see a connection.”

  “Makes me more convinced that I need find out what was really going on that night.”

  Clint looked at her, saw the determination in her face. Though he didn’t know her personally then, he remembered how years ago, when he’d watched her play basketball, her dogged determination had always impressed him. The women she’d played with and against were all taller than she was. Back then, he’d wanted to meet her but feared coming off as some sort of creepy groupie. He didn’t believe in fate, but he did believe she’d come back into his life at this time, as a friend, for something important, and he prayed to know what that was.

  “Do you have any theories about that night?”

  Leah sighed. “It was a payoff for something. I was certain at the time. Brad was given the money—he stuck the barrel of his gun in the guy’s face, for heaven’s sake. But I wasn’t certain it was for him. That night I . . .”

  She paused, and Clint thought he saw her wince. “What?”

  “The memory of that night still stings once in a while.” She swallowed and seemed to steady herself.

  “Do you not want to talk about this?” Clint’s heart went out to her. Bottom line, even though it was years ago now, she’d had to kill her husband. Could that memory ever be erased?

  She gave a wave of her hand, and he saw the darkness leave her eyes. Her footing firmed up, and Clint felt his admiration and respect for her grow as she continued.

  “I’m okay. That night my question for Brad was ‘What was the payoff for?’ I’m certain it wasn’t first and last months’ rent for Larry. I thought it might be some kind of political payoff. However, something came up recently that makes me doubt that theory.” She told Clint about the FBI agent, Falcon, paying her a visit.

  “Oh, you only got one, and he was on your side.” Clint rolled his eyes, still remembering how angry the agents had made him. He told Leah about his experience. “They told me to keep my nose out of my own investigation.”

  “What they told me about Brad surprised me. I can’t see him sheltering a fugitive.” She paused; Clint saw sadness shade her features. “But then I couldn’t admit that he was an abuser.”

  “The man you saw give Brad the money that night wasn’t the fugitive?”

  “I don’t think so. There was a generic resemblance, I guess. I couldn’t say definitively that they were the same person. But it wasn’t Grant Holloway either. I really need to talk to him.”

  “Are you sure you want to go there now?”

  “What do you mean?” She stared at him.

  “You’ve been out of jail a week. Maybe take a breath?” He smiled.

  “From the man who should be resting at home after a near-fatal traffic accident.”

  He saw the amused twinkle in her eyes. Would wh
at he had to say change that? There were hard questions he needed to ask Leah. Was she ready?

  “Point taken, but I have to ask you something. Maybe you won’t like it, but I want to help, and I need the answers to these questions.”

  “I’ll tell you everything I can.”

  “Did you believe Brad was a dirty cop the night you followed him?”

  CHAPTER 52

  “Dirty? No. I knew he was up to something.” She paused, remembering all the angst that night. Her fears. Her suspicions. “I thought—affair.”

  “I can understand that.” Clint nodded, thoughtful, and Leah felt compelled to go on, but she needed a prop.

  “How about some coffee or tea?” she asked.

  “Nothing for me, thanks.”

  “I’m going to make a cup of tea.” Leah went to the kitchen, needing to move, memories swirling inside her head. How much should she tell Clint? The word everything echoed in her thoughts and she realized that was right. She wanted more with Clint, and he needed to know everything. There would be no secrets or wondering in this relationship.

  “Brad saved me, you know,” she said, looking out the back window as she filled the kettle.

  “How?”

  “In field training. Don’t know if you remember the fiasco at Duster’s Creek, when we were cleaning out the homeless camp—gosh, almost seven years ago now.”

  He shook his head.

  “I was one of the officers who wandered into a combative group of crackheads. I was almost finished with field training and it took me by surprise. One of them sucker punched me, broke my nose. And also broke my confidence.”

  “Stuff happens.”

  “I know that now, but back then I was cocky. I’d graduated top of my class and thought field training would be a breeze. After that hit and three days off injured, I wavered, considered quitting. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for the job. Then Brad took me under his wing. Worked with me on my weaponless defense. I was in awe of him. There was good there.”

  Clint nodded. “I don’t doubt that. We all have two sides to our natures. Sometimes it’s a battle to keep the ugly side down. I was there the day he saved that woman in the river.” He hiked a shoulder. “I’m not a strong swimmer, and that water was icy cold. I didn’t want to make the situation worse by getting in and becoming a victim myself. Brad never hesitated.”

  Leah’s throat thickened as memories of the good Brad flooded her thoughts. She held Clint’s warm hazel eyes. “That’s why it’s so important to me to find out went so wrong that he’d try to kill me.” She swallowed the lump and kept her composure.

  “I wish I had an answer. Maybe there isn’t one. Could you live with that?”

  Leah considered the question. “No. I want answers.”

  “No doubt.” Clint flashed a smile. “You were tenacious on the court—why would it be any different now?”

  Leah liked his smile and her mood improved. “Finding the truth is driving me forward. Getting my badge back will be the first step. I’m praying that Gretchen can get the TRO rescinded.”

  The kettle clicked; the water was ready.

  As Leah poured water over her tea bag, more memories from life with Brad surfaced. Not good ones. Life with him was so complicated. All the stuff that went on—she knew now their relationship had never been healthy and the back-and-forth that led her to follow him, to check up on him, was a result of the competition and codependency between them. Right now, she could see all the issues clearly. Even the abuse she put up with and rationalized away for two years. Why couldn’t she see that then?

  Buster was sprawled out in the center of the living room, sound asleep. Clint and Leah had moved to the kitchen and were seated across from one another at the table.

  “So I guess you could say Brad and I didn’t have the best of marriages.”

  “I’m not judging. And you don’t need to share any details with me. Our relationship moves forward, to the future. We’re not going to be beached on the past—deal?” He held out his good hand.

  Our relationship. Leah held his gaze, saw the warmth and compassion there. She felt so connected to Clint, so safe.

  She gripped his hand. “Deal.”

  “Good.”

  Leah let go of his hand and pushed her hair up off her forehead. “With Brad I was always walking on eggshells. We spent a lot of time with his parents. Harden is every bit as controlling as Brad was, even more so. Blanche had a saying: ‘Let the men do their men things.’ It meant that we never questioned them; it was just the way things were.”

  “Sorry to hear it.”

  “I always wondered if anyone at the PD guessed, if there was any gossip.”

  “Not that I heard. I know people were stunned that morning. No one knew what to make of any of it. I think that’s what made it easy for the trial to become a travesty.”

  “I made that easy by never saying anything.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. The reason I wanted to know what you suspected and why you followed him was because I wondered if you knew what was happening in SAT, if you ever heard him discuss smuggling operations.”

  She frowned. “Falcon asked me almost the same thing—did Brad interdict much smuggling. I didn’t have an answer.”

  “Do you think it’s possible Falcon is right, that he was actually making it easy for smugglers rather than stopping them?”

  Leah sighed. “A year ago, I would have said no way. But now . . .” She shrugged. “I guess anything is possible. Brad was a lot of things; he did bend the rules. Things had to be his way. I do wonder, though, what would have been in it for him to turn a blind eye to smuggling?”

  “Maybe a piece of the action? The money Falcon mentioned.”

  Leah sat back. “Brad was never obsessed with money. He was quirky about it, but—” she shook her head—“I can’t see him going to the dark side to enrich himself personally.”

  “Let me guess: he was more about control,” Clint said with a wry smile.

  “Yes, that was Brad. He needed to be in control.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t personal profiting. Maybe it was all controlling things for the Hangmen.”

  “That would make more sense than the other, I guess. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the thought that any cop would shelter a cop-killing fugitive.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know. Hess has to be in the valley under an assumed identity.”

  That didn’t fly for Leah. “Brad wasn’t stupid. He liked to say he had his finger on the pulse of the whole valley.”

  “Maybe he did and that’s why his house was burned down.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe there was something in the house they were afraid would be found. You say you want your job back and the house burns to the ground. I hate coincidences.”

  “There was a bar top with all the Hangmen names carved in it.”

  “Burning the house down for something that could be sanded over seems a bit extreme. There has to be something bigger.”

  “Harden never lost possession of the house. If something was there, don’t you think he would have found it by now?”

  “Maybe. Harden might have looked and come up empty.”

  She redirected the conversation. “Larry Ripley is who I think of when I think of Brad’s house and the Hangmen. Do you remember the day you helped me retrieve my belongings?”

  “I’ll never forget it. You threw a pizza at me.” He grinned and Leah had to laugh, even as she blushed.

  “Okay, before that. When we got to the house, just before we went in, Ripley drove up.”

  “I vaguely remember that. He wanted something, correct?”

  “Yeah, he said he wanted a gym bag. Ivy told him to pound sand. What if there was something in the gym bag and it was still in the house or Ripley thought it was?”

  “You think Larry burned the house down?”

  Leah set her tea down. “I don’t know, but I need to show you something.”
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  She went into the other room and retrieved the gun case. “This was in a box of my stuff, wrapped in one of Brad’s sweatshirts.” She handed it to Clint. “Do you remember putting it in a box?”

  He took the case and frowned. “No, I don’t. This isn’t yours?”

  “No, and as far as I know, it wasn’t Brad’s either. I bet it’s what Larry was looking for.”

  “Thought he said he wanted a gym bag.”

  “I would guess he said that because gun case would have raised eyebrows. Larry is the consummate liar.”

  Clint turned the case over with his good hand. “No key?”

  Leah shook her head.

  “This is a nice case. It’ll be difficult to open without a key.” Like most cops he carried a utility knife on his belt. He took the knife out and struggled to pull out a small tool with the hand that stuck out of his cast. He held the knife up. “You’ll have to help me; I need two good hands.”

  Leah moved her chair close to him, their shoulders touching. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Hold the case steady.”

  Leah reached over with her right hand, elbow pressing into Clint’s chest. She was almost sitting in Clint’s lap. His warmth seemed to envelop her, and Leah bit her bottom lip to concentrate on the job. Her left hand on the other side of the case, she pressed down, holding it steady while Clint worked the tool on the knife into the lock, his head down, breath tickling her hands.

  “You don’t mind if I break this, do you?” he asked.

  “No, uh, of course not.”

  He worked on the lock more. Leah had to press down hard on the case to hold it still. Suddenly the lock popped open and Leah felt a jolt of happy success. She sat back, still conscious of his nearness, heart racing a bit. Even with the bruises and the stitches, he was very easy on the eyes.

  Clint turned toward her and smiled.

  For the briefest of seconds, Leah felt the urge to lean forward and kiss him. The light in his eyes was warm, and they sparkled, full of—could she say love?

  His eyes never left hers. He set the knife down and took her hand in his good one. “It was easier than I thought. We make a good team.”