“Chief Masterson, it’s nice to meet you too,” she said automatically, even as her mind turned over the possibility that he didn’t remember her. It had been years ago, after all.
Midnight had met Kyle “Masters” when he was a new sergeant with the New York Police Department. She had been running FORS as a sergeant then. It was two full years before she’d ever laid eyes on Rick. She and Kyle had been at the same conference in Sacramento. They had been in the same work group and had hit it off famously. Kyle was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He stood at six feet, three inches, and he had coal-black hair and beautiful bright green eyes. He was muscular without being bulky, and he had an incredible smile. Of Irish-Italian decent, he loved to party and play, but he had a passion for many things. He had been funny and charming, and was also full of the kind of confidence Midnight loved in men—confident without being cocky.
Kyle had asked her to dinner that night. She’d accepted, and they’d ended up back at his hotel room. It was the beginning of a year-long “weekend-romance” kind of thing. Neither of them were looking for any kind of heavy relationship, just someone to have fun with on occasion. She had told Kyle all about Joe, and how important a friend he was to her. Kyle had told her about all the women that he dated back in New York. There was no pressure in their relationship, and in those days that had been exactly what Midnight had been looking for. Kyle was a voracious but incredible lover, and when he was in town they literally spent most of their time in bed. The members of FORS knew when Masters was around because their leader was “unavailable unless someone is dying,” and she’d show up a couple of days later looking both exhausted and sated. Joe’s favorite saying had been that “the Masters train had been through town.”
Looking up at him now, Midnight realized that he looked exactly the same, except for a couple of gray hairs at his temples, and even those were barely noticeable. As he gestured politely for her to precede him, she was trying to decide if it bothered her that he didn’t remember her. On the one hand, if he didn’t, he hadn’t come here expecting to get the job on memories of a more care-free time, and that was good. But on the other hand, if he didn’t remember her, that was a blow to her ego. She quickly tamped down that thought. If he has all the experience he listed on that resume, I’d be stupid to let my ego keep me from being objective, she told herself emphatically. By the time they’d reached her car, she had resolved to put the past where it belonged and treat him like any other candidate.
As they got into the car, Kyle glanced back at the terminal. “This place sure has changed a lot.”
Midnight nodded. “Oh, yes it has! Driving my guys out here insane with patrol duty.”
Kyle grinned. “I can imagine.”
Midnight pulled out of the terminal area and headed back down Harbor Boulevard. She saw the accident up ahead immediately. “Oh, great.” Her eyes went over the scene as the traffic edged around the accident. “Please let there be someone on scene, please…” she muttered.
“I don’t see anyone,” Kyle said, leaning to the side to see around the car in front of them.
“Well, that just figures, doesn’t it?” Midnight said, rolling her eyes and grinning. She looked over at Kyle. “Wanna get your hands dirty?” she asked, her tone telling him she in no way expected it of him.
He grinned back. “Is this part of the interview?”
“Yeah,” Midnight said flippantly as she started toward the emergency lane. “I arranged this accident in our way just to see how you handle day-to-day citizens—you figured me out.”
Kyle laughed. “Sure, why not?”
Midnight put her red light up on the dashboard and got into the emergency lane. Cars moved out of her way to let her pass. She pulled up to the scene.
An old, beat-up panel van was sitting across two lanes, its front bumper facing the center divide. A newer-model Cadillac was caught with its front bumper in the right rear fender of the van, and steam was rising from its hood. Two men were standing in front of the vehicles, obviously arguing.
Midnight glanced over at Kyle and, rolling her eyes again, got out. She walked toward the men as Kyle came around from the passenger’s side.
“Okay, gentlemen,” Midnight said authoritatively as she held up her hands as a sign for them to stop yelling. “I need to know, are these vehicles drivable?”
Both men looked at her, obviously surprised by such a well-dressed woman trying to take charge of the scene. They both nodded slowly after a moment.
“Okay, good. I need you both to remove them from the roadway so we can get traffic moving again and—”
“Wait a minute!” the stockier of the two men said. “I ain’t moving nothing till the cops get here.”
“Well, the cops are here, sir,” Midnight said, her voice still placating, as she pulled open the side of her jacket to show the badge clipped to the waist of her skirt. “So please move this vehicle.”
“You ain’t no fucking cop!” the same man said, his eyes raking over her.
“I assure you, she is,” Kyle put in from right behind her.
“Yeah, well, till a real cop shows up and sees how this dumb fucker cut me off, I’m not—”
“Cut you off?” the other man yelled, throwing his arms up in a gesture of frustration. “You were trying to make an illegal turn back there and I was going straight! You can’t blame me if you’re not smart enough to turn from the right lane!”
“I was turning from the right lane, you dumb raghead! You were just—”
“Enough!” Midnight yelled, glancing back at Kyle. “Masters, please?” she said, gesturing toward one of the men, who was obviously of Middle Eastern descent. Kyle gave her a strange look, but then nodded and moved toward him. Midnight walked toward the first man.
She took him by the arm. “Yours is the van, right?” she asked, even as she led him over to the driver’s side.
“Yeah,” the man said, pulling his arm free of her grasp.
“Fine.” Midnight took a step back and gestured toward the door. “Get in it and move it, now.”
“This is bullshit, that raghead’s gonna—”
“Sir,” Midnight interrupted firmly. “Move the van, now. We’ll worry about the whys and wherefores in a minute.”
“This is bullshit,” the man muttered as he got in. He moved the vehicle to the area Midnight directed him to, and the Cadillac sputtered in behind. Kyle walked over to Midnight. He was writing on a small pad of paper he’d produced from somewhere.
“What’s that?” Midnight asked.
“Drawing the accident scene for the investigators,” Kyle said matter-of-factly.
Midnight grinned. “Oh yeah,” she said, her tone saying, I knew that.
Kyle grinned at her. Just then a patrol car pulled up and two officers got out.
“Hey, Chief,” the first officer said.
“Hey, Rollins, how’s it going?” Midnight replied.
“Same old thing. What are you doing here?” Rollins asked, eyeing Kyle curiously.
“Your job,” Midnight replied glibly.
The other office grinned. “Uh oh, busted back to motor pool again.”
“Shut up, Madera!” Rollins said, laughing. Then he looked at Midnight. “We’ll take it from here, Chief. Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Midnight said, rolling her eyes.
Kyle ripped the sheet off his pad and handed it to Rollins. “Thought this might help.”
Rollins looked at the paper, then at Kyle. “It will, thanks,” he said, his voice tinged with a little respect for the stranger, who was obviously a cop too.
Kyle just nodded in response, then followed Midnight back to her car.
As Midnight pulled away from the curb, Kyle looked over at her for a long moment, not sure whether he should say anything. She’d thrown him when she called him Masters. He had convinced himself she didn’t remember him. It had bothered him in a way, but it had also been a good thing, considering the cocksure kid he had been th
en. Midnight had been one of the most incredible women he had ever been with. She’d pulled him into her the first day he’d met her, and he’d craved her after that. She was the kind of woman a man could just enjoy without worrying about hurting her feelings when he didn’t call constantly or visit all the time. She had been completely free-spirited, like him. At first he hadn’t believed that she was really capable of having the kind of relationship they’d had—easygoing, no pressure. Until that point he hadn’t met a woman that could truly do that, but Midnight Chevalier had changed his mind quickly. After their first lustful weekend together, he’d returned to New York and gone back to work, earning his sergeant stripes. He was young and determined in those days to become the best homicide detective ever.
He’d forgotten about the fiery blond in San Diego for a full month, but then the opportunity to travel to San Diego again had come up unexpectedly, and he had decided to go. When he’d gotten to town, he’d taken a chance and called Midnight. She’d answered her phone sounding distracted. He’d told her who he was, and she had laughed, asking where he was. He told her he was in town. Midnight had asked if he was busy for dinner. He told her no, and she invited him to her house.
“Dinner” had turned out to be Chinese take-out, and they’d barely eaten that before they were back in bed together. There had been no comments about not calling her; there had been no attitude, or questions about when he was coming back. They had simply enjoyed each other’s company thoroughly during the times when he wasn’t at his meetings or she wasn’t at work. He’d met her friends, including Joe Sinclair, and had been easily accepted by them as well. He had left three days later, determined to return again soon. In the end he’d made more than a dozen trips to San Diego in a year, and had seen Midnight every time. Sometimes they stayed at her place, sometimes she came to his hotel. He saw her friends a few times at parties or at the office when he came by to see Midnight for lunch. Every time was as comfortable as the first. The following year, things took off with his career. He was given a chance to really prove himself, and he grabbed it. It had meant no vacations or trips across the country for a while. A year after that he met and fell in love with Barbara Vicente. He’d never seen Midnight again, except on the news, until this night. And he had been sure she didn’t recognize him. Now he wasn’t so confident.
“What?” Midnight asked, glancing over at him and noting his studying look.
“Earlier, you called me Masters,” he said casually. “Does that mean you actually remember me, or was that a slip?”
Midnight grinned. “Both.”
“Both?” he questioned, his dark brows drawing together.
“Yeah,” Midnight qualified, still grinning. “I do remember you, and I did slip in calling you Masters.”
“So why didn’t you tell me before that you recognized me?” Kyle asked, still not sure how this was going to affect his bid for the Assistant Chief’s job.
“You walked up to me and said, ‘It’s nice to meet you.’ Masters, what did you expect me to say?” There was laughter in Midnight’s voice.
“True,” Kyle said, rubbing the bridge of his nose nervously. “So do I lose points or gain them for my duplicity?”
Midnight laughed then, remembering what a quick wit he had. She gave him a mock serious look. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that at this time.”
“Ah, okay.” Kyle nodded, looking appropriately serious as well, but with a grin tugging at his lips. “So how’ve you been?”
“I’ve been good,” she said, smiling now. “You?”
“Life has its moments,” he replied, with enough severity to let Midnight know he wasn’t kidding.
“So why the move to San Diego?” Midnight wasn’t sure how to put it so that it didn’t sound like an interview question.
“Let’s just say I need a change of scenery for me and my boys.”
“You have kids…” Midnight said, trailing off as she realized how that might sound.
“Yes,” Kyle said, smiling. “Two boys. Nick is thirteen and Brenden is five.”
“Almost the same as mine. I have an eleven-year-old daughter, who’s almost twelve, and a seven-year-old boy too.”
“And a very intense husband that loves you very much,” Kyle added.
Midnight gave him a sidelong glance. “And you know this how?”
Kyle leaned back in the seat, eyeing her speculatively. “Same way a billion other people in this country know it. I saw him burying you three years ago with the world looking on.”
Midnight grimaced at the mention of such a horrible time, then nodded. “Oh, that.”
“Yeah, that,” Kyle echoed. “I was glad to hear it was a mistake.”
“Yeah, me too,” Midnight replied, a glimmer of her usual humor coming back. She pulled into the parking lot then, and into her space. Shutting off the car, she turned to him. “So what about you? You said a change of scenery for you and your boys. Are you divorced, never married, or shouldn’t I ask?”
Kyle took a slow, deep breath, then looked over at her. His green eyes were extremely somber as he said, “I lost my wife about three years ago.”
“Oh my God,” Midnight said, reaching out to touch his hand, her eyes searching his. “I’m sorry.”
Kyle nodded, looking like he was desperately trying to compose himself by taking long, deep breaths. “It’s okay, Midnight. You couldn’t have known.”
“I know, but…” she began, but trailed off as he shook his head. She knew she needed to leave it alone then. It just struck her as so tragic that he had lost a woman he had obviously loved. She knew how hard it had been for Rick, thinking that she had been dead years before when a car bomb destroyed her classic Corvette.
After a few minutes, they got out of the car. She led him up to the floor the conference room was on, then turned to him. “Look, do you need some time to get your head together?” she asked softly.
“Yeah, is that okay?” Kyle asked, his look concerned.
“It’s okay, go on. The conference room is just down at the end of the hall,” she said, pointing. “Come in when you’re ready, okay?”
Kyle touched her on the shoulder, his eyes searching hers, then smiled. “Thanks, Midnight.”
Midnight smiled back. She knew it was indirectly her fault he’d lost his composure in the first place. She walked down the hall to the conference room and pulled Spider aside.
“What’s goin’ on?” Spider asked. She was already fifteen minutes late, and then she’d shown up without the candidate.
“There was an accident on Harbor Boulevard. I was first on scene.” She glanced behind him at Jess and Simmons. “Look, do you happen to remember Masters?”
“Masters?” Spider echoed, starting to shake his head.
“From way back at the beginning of FORS—tall, dark-haired guy from New York?”
“The train?” Spider said finally as recognition dawned.
“Oh God! Don’t use that term!” Midnight gasped, laughing in spite of herself.
“So what about…” Spider began, but then it was obvious something had clicked in his head. “Masterson.”
“Yep,” Midnight said, nodding.
“Rick know?”
“Spider!” she whispered fiercely. “I didn’t even know till I picked him up. I didn’t know his name was Masterson—I only ever knew Masters.”
“So, you want me to… what? Score him low?” Spider asked, obviously ready to do whatever she wanted.
“No!” Midnight said, ever astounded at her members’ loyalty. “I just wanted to tell you ahead of time, so that if you got who he was halfway through the interview you wouldn’t blurt out something like ‘the train’!”
Spider laughed, and then his eyes trained to the door to the conference room; Kyle had just walked in.
Kyle spotted Midnight talking to another man over in the corner of the room, a conversation which broke up when he walked in. He was wondering what it was about when he saw the man’s face. Wal
king over, he extended his hand to Spider. “Nguyen,” Kyle said, pronouncing Spider’s Laotian surname properly, as the younger man took his proffered hand. “It’s been a long time. How are you?”
“I’m good, Masters. Thanks for asking. Good to see you again,” Spider said, smiling.
Midnight introduced him to the rest of the panel, and the interview began.
Simmons asked the first standard question. “Tell us about why you feel qualified to be Assistant Chief in the San Diego Police Department.”
Kyle paused for a long moment, obviously formulating his answer. Midnight sat back in her chair, remembering when he would say anything that came to mind regardless of its impact.
“First of all, I think that more than one’s job prepares a person for a position like this. Being an Assistant Chief is an important job, and requires a lot of abilities that can’t be acquired by just working. A position like this requires a lot of social and political skills, as well as a good work ethic. I’ve worked my whole life to pull myself up from my humble beginnings. In doing so I have pulled myself up through the ranks of law enforcement. I have a great deal of experience in many aspects of police work, and that is important because I don’t feel you can lead without having been led at some point in your life. You can’t manage the job unless you’ve done the job.”
He paused, looking at each member of the panel, his eyes stopping at Midnight. “I was a Navy Seal for four years. I have a bachelor’s degree in business administration. I have nineteen years’ law enforcement experience, including two years on patrol, six in homicide, two as a lieutenant. I was four years in narcotics, as lieutenant in charge of the Southside. I was three years in vice, one as a lieutenant, two as a captain. I was two years in the special crimes unit, as captain in charge of the division. Currently I am Assistant Chief over all major crimes—it’s been two years.”
It was obvious everyone on the panel was scrambling to process the entire list. Midnight was grinning. Jessica got her thoughts together first and asked a question of her own.
“Chief Masterson, you also have a bachelor’s in philosophy, correct?”
Past in the Present (MidKnight Blue Book 9) Page 4
