Brock stared down at her big brown eyes. "You are so incredibly beautiful." He dropped his lips to hers, brushing over them softly. She chased his lips, and they connected. It was a kiss of promise, at least on his part.
"Davidson probably shouldn't catch us like this." He leaned down and gave her one more kiss, chaste and soft.
"No, might not go over well." She leaned up and kissed him again. "But it was nice to have the time. A few minutes outside the madness swirling out there."
"An oasis." He verbalized his thoughts from a few moments ago.
"Yeah, exactly. A place to rest and revitalize." She turned to him. "That's exactly how I feel when I'm with you. Peaceful. It's really nice, isn't it?" She smiled and moved off the floor, reaching a hand down to him. "Come on, King. Up and at ’em."
He grabbed her hand and stood, not allowing her to take any of his weight. He stepped into her space and chucked her chin up so he could look into her eyes again. "It is more than nice." It was pretty fucking close to perfect, but it was too early to admit. He dropped another kiss on her lips and walked away, making it to the other side of the room before Davidson suddenly opened the door and walked in.
"What do you have?"
Brock and Kallie briefed their boss, and he listened carefully, asking questions when he needed clarification. They worked over the information and devised a plan forward. One that didn't rely on Cynthia's confession, but damned if they weren't going to push her for information.
"All right. I've got the information; I'll call Cliff over at the ADA's office and see if he can get us a warrant for financials. Samuel's won't be an issue. I need you to get me something from Dawson or Cynthia that implies this was a blackmail situation. Then I can run this up the flagpole and get a warrant for them and Sebastian Treyson's accounts. The good thing is the warrant goes straight to the banks and not through Treyson's army of lawyers." He motioned to Cynthia. "She asked for her phone call while you were in with Dawson. One of the uniforms escorted her to the phone. I extracted the recording. She called a number and left a message. Her message was, and let me quote, It's me. The cops picked me up. You'd better get me out of here or you know what will happen."
"Let me guess, the number was a burner phone."
"As far as we can tell. The line went straight to voicemail, so I don't think the damn thing was on. We may have a short window of opportunity. Get to her before whoever she called shows up."
Brock looked at Kallie as Davidson paused at the door. "By the time you have her under rights advisement, I'll have Bettis down here. He'll work anything you need. I've got Hansen working the other issues. We'll work it. Bettis will have a direct line open to me.” He yanked open the door. "You've got this. Let's wrap it up."
"That means we're up. Let's go play the Brock King variety of hardball."
Kallie glanced over her shoulder to make sure the door was shut before she turned back and waggled her eyebrows. "I love your hard balls, Detective King." She laughed and spun on her heel, leaving the small room.
Fuck, Brock reached down and rearranged himself in his jeans. He'd never interviewed a suspect with a hard-on before. Kallie would pay for that little taunt. A smile spread across his face, yeah, he could have some fun with this... he glanced into the interview room. Right after he got a confession.
Kallie was still chuckling when he stopped in front of the door. He rolled his shoulders and slid into interrogation mode. Kallie cleared her throat, and he watched as she slipped on a cloak of professionalism that they all wore.
"Game time." He said to her, and she nodded. He opened the door and walked in. Both he and Kallie sat across from Cynthia. The woman didn't move or acknowledge them. Brock slammed his hand down on the table.
The thunderous clap jolted Cynthia awake. "Fuck! What the hell?"
"Ms. White, you have the right to remain silent."
"What! Are you fucking kidding? You're arresting me?"
"No, ma'am, I'm reading you your rights."
She popped up on her one good foot. "Why do you need to read me my rights?"
Brock leaned forward. "Sit down and let me finish this."
Brock read the Miranda ending with, "With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to a lawyer?"
"Why are you reading me my rights?"
And that was the opening he needed. "To start, you said Mr. Jenkins pushed you down the stairs. He has provided an alibi for that evening. Providing false statements to the police is illegal, Ms. White."
He watched her mind spin. The expressions that ran over her face were almost comical. "I didn't press charges, so you got nothing."
"But why would you lie to us?" Kallie performed the hurt cop act pretty damn well.
Cynthia shrugged. "It’s none of your business what happened to me."
"Well, that's wrong, but it's also okay, because we know what happened." Brock leaned back in his chair and watched the woman. She narrowed her eyes and her gaze flipped from Kallie to him and then back again. "What is he talking about?"
Brock leaned forward, continuing to stare at her.
"Did you talk to Dawson? Is that what this is about? You had to, right, because he has an alibi? Well that's bullshit. The man lies. All the time he lies."
"And that flu he had? That was a lie?" Kallie asked quietly.
"He got into a fight." Cynthia leaned back into the chair.
"How do you know that? You said you didn't see him, that he called in."
"He told me."
"He said he didn't call you. He couldn't because you took his phone."
"I didn't take nobody's shit." Cynthia stared back at Kallie.
"Then when we search your apartment, we won't find anything?"
"Why you searching my apartment?" The woman leaned forward, but she wasn't scared. No, Brock could tell there was nothing in the apartment, but they'd still search.
"Or the office?" Kallie followed up and that's when Brock caught the first look of terror flash through the woman's eyes.
"You need a warrant, and I ain’t done nothing."
"We don't, actually. You see, your uncle has been very cooperative." Brock signaled Bettis to get the uncle to approve a search of the office, as in now.
"Whatever. That's like community property in there. Lots of people have keys."
"Yeah, but not Dawson."
"So?" Cynthia glanced at the door to the interview room.
"You can relax, Cynthia, I don't think whoever you called is going to show up. They are leaving you dangling here, all by yourself. You see, we know your uncle owns part of that warehouse. We know you went to the warehouse and sent Dawson away after you got him to call Samuel to the warehouse. We've spoken to everyone who was there that night and all fingers are pointing to you."
"That's bullshit." Cynthia's eyes darted to the door again.
"No, it isn't. You killed Samuel Treyson. You slit his throat."
"No! No, I didn't! I didn't kill no one! I got proof. I got video. Treyson begged, but that bastard killed him. I was supposed to be gone, but I waited. I wanted to see what he did. I can give you the video. I wanted money. That bastard told me he'd give me money. Then after, he laughed at me. He told me if I said a word to anyone, he'd kill me. Slowly. He has enough money; he can do it." Cynthia shook her head. "I didn't do nothing. Hell yeah, I'll tell you who did it."
The door to the interview room opened and Brock swung his attention from Cynthia to the man standing in the doorway. Well, shit just got interesting. The lawyer from Miriam Treyson's house looked out of place in his designer suit.
"Mr. Masters, are you lost?" Brock asked as he casually stood.
"No. I'm right where I need to be. I represent Ms. White. I'm going to ask you to cease all questions at this time until I have time to talk to my client."
"We have advised her of her rights. She hasn't requested counsel."
"It is in her best interest to stop talking, now." Mr. Masters leveled a stare at the woman that would ha
ve singed the surface of the sun.
Brock swung his attention to Cynthia White. All the color had drained from her face. Her eyes were wide, and she was scared. Very scared. She shook her head from side to side. He wasn't sure if she knew she was doing it.
"It doesn't seem like she wants to talk to you."
"I've been retained to oversee her rights. You will cease questioning at this time." Masters slipped his hand in his jacket pocket in an awkward movement that set him on edge. Kallie stood and moved to his left, obviously alerted by the mannerisms, too.
Brock's eyes glanced over Masters' shoulder. Dawson had stopped in the hallway, a uniformed police officer held his arm, keeping him upright.
Dawson stared from Masters to Cynthia before he pointed to Masters. "That's him. That's the man she was talking to in the warehouse. I'd know that voice anywhere."
Masters turned toward Dawson. Brock saw it the second Masters registered what was happening. Brock dodged the briefcase that was chucked at him. Masters shoved the uniformed cop into Dawson, and tore down the hallway. Brock was on the man's tail in less than a heartbeat. "Stop! Police!" The shout was automatic and would bring half the building in response.
Masters twisted as he ran. A small handgun pointed directly at his chest. Brock dove forward, the echo of the weapon discharging ringing in his ears. He connected with Masters' legs, and they hit the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.
The gun came up. Brock covered the weapon and pushed it to the side just as Masters squeezed the trigger again. He ripped the damn thing from the lawyer's grasp and used the butt end in his fist to swing backward, knocking Masters into next week. The man went limp under him. The hallway was flooded in seconds, but all he could see were feet and legs.
Brock rolled off the guy and winced. He glanced down at his arm. "Son of a fucking, cock-sucking, whore-mongering, motherfucking limp-dicked bitch! That damn pansy-ass lawyer shot me." He glanced up as Kallie slid on her knees to his side. "He shot me!"
"Well, yeah, he had a gun. Shit like that happens if you don't move fast enough." She ripped his shirt from the cuff to the wound on his bicep. "Damn, the bullet is still in there, too. You need to go to the doctor."
"Fuck that, we are this close to finishing this case." He moved his good arm and squeezed his fingers together. "I need something to stop the bleeding then we're going back in that fucking interview room and getting to the bottom of this motherfucking shit."
Kallie sat back on her heels. "You cuss this much each time you get shot?"
"No… Maybe." Brock frowned. He did, didn't he? Yes. Four times now, and yes, he swore like a wet rat each time. "Damn it. Motherfucking son of a bitch."
Kallie took off her hoodie and the long-sleeved shirt that was over her t-shirt. She wrapped the shirt around his arm and tied it.
"Fuck, watch it," he hissed and she sniggered at him.
"Stop being such a baby. Look, it was a freaking .22. Besides, Cynthia confessed it was Masters who killed Samuel. She has it on video on her phone, and she was able to save it from the car when they went over the embankment."
"But why? What the fuck did he have to gain by killing Samuel? Where is her phone? Masters is going to stay silent. We need to find the why. Who was he working with? Why did he do it? What could he gain from it? We hafta find something or the bastard will wiggle into a crack." Brock motioned to the attorney that several cops were lifting. The man was cuffed and surrounded by officers, and it was evident he was still looped from the punch Brock had delivered. "Make sure no one talks to him until he's read his rights." He pushed at Kallie, "Go make sure they do it right."
Kallie slapped away his hand. "Stop trying to boss everyone around. You're kinda an ass when you get shot."
"Well, yeah, because, hello? I'm shot!" He pointed to his arm with his good hand.
Kallie pointed to the gun that he'd dropped beside him. "It's a .22!"
She was laughing at him, and damn it, he couldn't help smiling, too. "Yeah, but it’s still a bullet in my arm."
"Oh, poor baby," she crooned, and a couple of the cops still lingering laughed.
Brock threw his good arm up in the air. "Finally! Some sympathy."
"Redman, get him to the hospital." Davidson held up his hand stilling Brock's rant.
But damn it, he was so fucking pissed. "Masters. A slimy fucking lawyer. What the actual fuck?"
"Good question. We'll get to the bottom of it." Davidson leaned forward and offered him a hand up.
Brock took it and needed the assist more than he cared to admit. It was a small fucking bullet, but it stung like a motherfucker, and he'd admit, he was dizzy as fuck when he elevated. Kallie was next to him in a heartbeat, and he wrapped his good arm around her, steadying himself.
16
"Hospitals suck." Brock muttered under his breath for the fiftieth time.
"Stop whining." She was re-reading the texts from Bettis, Hansen and the occasional update from Davidson.
"What's happening? Where is my phone?"
"You're going to surgery. I called your brother Brody. Your phone is back at the station. Bettis has it."
"Fuck. That means the entire clan will be here soon. Tell me what's going on with the case before the horde descends. Ask Bettis to bring my phone, yeah?" Brock was loopy, they'd been in and given him something for the pain. Seemed the damn bullet had lodged next to the bone in his arm, and perhaps he wasn't as much as a wimp as she was accusing him of being.
"Bettis is busy at the moment." According to what she was reading, they were missing the aftermath, and it was one hell of a ride, but she wasn't going to tell Brock that. He already felt like shit having to come to the hospital. "Okay. They have Dawson's statement identifying Masters as being at the warehouse with Cynthia. Cynthia took Hansen to where she hid the phone. It was behind one of the dry-cleaning machines. No one would ever have found it. But the video does show Masters killing Samuel. The audio is shit, so tech is working it. Masters hasn't said a word. He's being held for Samuel's murder and attempted murder of a police officer..." She waved at him and winked.
"Why? What the fuck possessed him? That's what I don't get."
"Davidson and the DA have been popping warrants all over the place. We'll find it."
"You mean you'll find it. Seriously, this doesn't even hurt anymore. I need to get back to the precinct. Damn it, of all the lousy luck."
"Stop whining. You’re alive. Be happy." She was. She was ecstatic and just a little more than choked up, but hey you don't tell your boyfriend of two days that shit, do you? No. Not if you wanted him as a boyfriend for day three.
"He worked for Miriam."
Huh? "Say what?"
Brock scrubbed his face. "Masters. He worked for Miriam. Make sure they check for ties to her."
Kallie chuckled. She'd told him Davidson was doing that, the last time he'd asked her for an update. The drugs were trying to slow him down, but the man was tenacious.
A knock at the door turned her attention.
"Brock?"
Kallie slid off the side of his bed. A tall older woman entered the room, her worried expression eased as soon as she saw him in the bed.
"Son, you really have to stop getting shot. I'm only going to do this with you five or six more times before I let you do it yourself." She glanced at Kallie and smiled before she leaned over Brock and hugged him gently.
"Hey, Mom. I'm okay. Little bullet. Just ask Kallie. She'll tell you I'm over-reacting."
"Kallie?"
She turned and Kallie saw the resemblance. Those eyes were the same eyes she loved. Liked. Liked a lot. Not loved. She rolled her eyes and extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Kallie Redman, Brock’s partner."
"What happened to Jordan?" His mom stopped and grasped her hand. "No, that didn't sound right. Where are my manners? It is so nice to meet you, Kallie. I'm Hannah King, his mom. His dad will be here as soon as he can free up from the mess that is going on at Briar Hill. It is a feeding frenzy up there r
ight now."
Kallie smiled. "I can imagine. Jordan is on temporary assignment with the FBI."
"Mom, tell Dad I'm fine. He doesn't need to come down." Brock yawned and waved his hand dismissively. "Damn drugs."
"Language," his mom reprimanded before she turned back to Kallie. "What happened? Please tell me from the beginning. I haven't talked to the doctors yet.”
Kallie leaned against the wall. She gave Brock a quick glance. He waved his hand in a 'go ahead' gesture and dropped his head back on his pillow, closing his eyes. "Okay, well, he was shot taking down a murder suspect."
"Where?" His mom sat at the foot of his bed and put a hand on his foot.
"At the precinct."
"On the street?" Hannah's eyes rounded, huge with worry.
"No, inside the building."
"What? How did that happen? I have to have my purse searched to get past the front desk."
"That's something we're still working on." Kallie knew Hansen was all over the video feed trying to ascertain how Masters was allowed in with a weapon. "The doctors did an x-ray of his arm. The bullet is lodged against the bone, so they have to go in and get it out. He's signed all the forms, and they've given him some IV pain meds. The anesthesiologist stopped in and said they'd be back as soon as an operating theater became available. The surgeon said it would be a simple slice-pull-stitch thing, but he didn't want to leave the bullet in Brock's arm that close to the bone as it could cause problems."
"Well I should hope they wouldn't leave a bullet in him." Hannah sounded scandalized.
"Hell, Mom, he's still got metal in him from when he was a Marine. What's an ounce or two more?"
Kallie whipped her head around. The man who walked in was someone she'd watch closely if she saw him on the street, because he was one tough looking mother... but then she saw his eyes. The same light blue irises rimmed with a darker edge.
A Hope City Duet Page 19
