“Actually, sir, I don’t know for sure,” Rhiannon said, looking right into his eyes. “I know she was very upset by my husband’s death, and very unhappy that Tiempo got away with it.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure how far she’d go to get revenge.”
Kyle nodded slowly, accepting what she was saying and realizing she was telling him the truth. He looked at Midnight and saw that her mind was working already.
“What do you want me to do, Rhiannon?” Midnight asked.
Rhiannon didn’t respond immediately. She swallowed a couple of times, then bit her lower lip in uncertainty. Finally she said, “I can’t lose another member of my family to violence, Midnight. I want my sister alive, in whatever capacity that can be accomplished.”
Midnight accepted that answer, nodding. “I will do everything I can.”
“Thank you,” Rhiannon said solemnly as she stood. Midnight reached out to hug her, already feeling a lump in her throat. Rhiannon left, and Midnight got on the phone.
“Cass, get Dave Dibbins as fast as you can and send him up, please,” she said, already reaching up to massage her temple. Kyle watched, not saying anything. She hit the speaker again and dialed another number.
Spider answered on the second ring. “Nguyen.”
“Spider, I need a favor.”
“You got it,” he replied, without waiting to hear what it was.
Midnight grinned. It was nice to have such loyalty on occasions like this. “I need Dave.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll need him, but I need him to do something important for me.”
“Midnight, you don’t have to explain anything to me. You want him, he’s yours. Just try to send him back undamaged—he’s the best I have.”
“I know he is, Spider—that’s why I need him.”
“Done.”
“Thanks,” Midnight said, smiling again and shaking her head at such unwavering allegiance.
“For you, anything,” Spider said, his tone absolutely serious.
“As for you, my friend,” Midnight replied with equal sincerity.
They hung up, and Midnight looked up to see Kyle watching her. “Hold that thought,” she said, smiling and holding up one finger. Again she hit the speaker, dialing her secretary’s extension. “Cass, can you please pull Stevie O’Neil’s personnel file for me and bring it in. She’ll be under resignations.”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks,” Midnight said, pleased with her ever-efficient secretary. She hung up again and turned back to Kyle. “Okay, what?”
Kyle just shook his head. “Nothing, I was just wondering…”
“Wondering what?”
“What you do to people to make them swear total devotion to you.” His voice showed the admiration that he held for how she handled things.
Midnight shrugged off the compliment. “These people have been with me a long time.”
“And Rhiannon Templeton?”
“Don’t start with me, Masterson,” Midnight replied after a long pause.
Kyle laughed. There was a knock on the door and Cassandra bustled in, putting a file on Midnight’s desk. “Sergeant Dibbins is outside.”
“Thanks, Cass. Tell him to come on in,” Midnight said.
“You wanted to see me?” Dave Dibbins asked from the doorway.
Midnight grinned at her longtime friend. Dave looked so much different than he had over fifteen years ago when they’d first met. Dave had been the leader of a gang; he’d been stealing money from his gang’s drug profits and had been caught. Of course, Midnight’s unit FORS had everything to do with that. It was Midnight’s second-in-command, Joe Sinclair, who with the help of another member of FORS had held off Dave’s gang when they wanted to kill their leader for his theft. It was also Joe that Dave Dibbins had turned to with his request to join FORS, since he was apparently out of the drug-dealing business.
Standing in her doorway, Dave Dibbins looked like a laidback rock star. He was tall and lean, wearing the most faded jeans and a navy blue shirt. He had sandy-blond hair that was cut in a long fade and shot through with lighter blond highlights gained from hours in the sun while surfing. He had sky blue eyes that showed only what he wanted people to see. His face always had a look of passivity, but Midnight knew that his mind worked constantly on the cases that loaded his desk.
In the seven years that he’d been a sergeant in the narcotics unit he had become the best narc she had. Dave had made cases no one else could make. He’d caught dealers no one else had ever been able to get near, much less make a case on. Midnight relied heavily on him to train all her new narcotics officers as well as for all the work he accomplished. Now she had one more mission for him.
“Hey, Dibbs,” Midnight said, smiling as she motioned him into the office. “Thanks for coming.”
Dave gave her a wry grin, lifting an eyebrow at her. “Midnight, you are the chief, ya know.”
Midnight laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, forgot,” she said, waving her hand. “Dave, you probably remember Kyle Masterson, right?” She gestured to Kyle, who was still standing by one of the chairs at the conference table.
Dave walked over to Kyle, extending his hand and smiling broadly. “The train—yeah, I remember.”
“The what?” Kyle asked, glancing over at Midnight, who immediately tried to hide her shock and amusement that someone had finally slipped and used the nickname Joe had given Kyle years before.
“Long story, Kyle,” Midnight said, waving her hand to dismiss the whole thing. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“Somehow,” Kyle said, looking quizzically from Midnight to Dave, “I know that’s not totally true. But I’ll let it slide, for now.”
Dave laughed, knowing he’d blown it but figuring it was him or someone else eventually—why not be a ground-breaker?
“So…” Dave said, sitting in a chair across from Midnight’s desk and stretching his legs out in front of him comfortably. “To what do I owe this honor?” His tone was casual, but his eyes were wary. Midnight wondered if she should check with Spider to see what trouble Dave had been up to lately. Dave knew that he wasn’t guilty of anything that would incur Midnight’s wrath, for which he counted himself lucky. He had a general idea of the hellfire that Midnight’s husband, Rick, lived with on a daily basis. Not that he didn’t envy the hell out of Rick for being lucky enough to have her.
“Well,” Midnight said, leaning back casually as well and eyeing him speculatively. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll get the report eventually.” Her gold-green eyes sparkled with humor as she saw Dave relax further, blowing his breath out in a sigh. Kyle took a seat at the conference table, watching the proceedings with interest.
“Okay, why am I here?” Dave asked.
“I need you to do me a favor,” Midnight replied, her tone deceptively calm even as she stared directly into his eyes.
Dave’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment, then smoothed as he said, “You got it.”
Midnight grinned lopsidedly, figuring Kyle would see him as another one of her converts. She knew she might as well get used to his thinking on this, since this type of loyalty was evident in all the members of the original FORS. “And if I ask you to walk on water?” she couldn’t resist asking, raising an eyebrow at Kyle.
Dave’s look did not change. “I’m the man for the job.”
Midnight’s eyes fell to the gold cross Dave always wore. She’d thought for many years that it was a symbol of his faith. In fact, he had confided in her that it was a symbol of the life he’d left behind when he joined FORS. He’d bought it with his first big payoff from selling drugs when he was in the gang, and kept it to remind himself where he’d been. He never took it off.
“I know that,” Midnight said as her eyes moved to meet his again. “But this mission is a little bit more important.”
“Okay…” Dave replied in a measured tone.
He watched as Midnight reached out and
picked up a manila folder that looked suspiciously like a personnel file. Maybe this was about his latest misstep—but upon closer inspection, Dave knew it wasn’t his. His file was much fatter. He knew—he’d seen it.
Most of the stuff in his own personnel folder was commendations, award letters, and recommendations for promotions or special ops. There were, of course, a fair share of reports of minor incidents with suspects where his anger had gotten the better of him and he’d actually hit someone who really deserved it. In the end, all of the reports had been dismissed as minor, because Dave never struck an unarmed or handcuffed suspect. And he always had a reciprocating injury to show for his loss of control. There were also a number of injury reports in his file. He took his job seriously, and tended to go just a bit further to capture a suspect, even if it meant injury to himself. It was an exciting life.
Dave doggedly tried to catch the name on the folder’s label, but Midnight was grinning at him as she shook her head. Then, to his surprise she slid the folder across the desk. Gingerly, Dave picked it up, and saw the name Stevie O’Neil. He trained his blue eyes back on Midnight.
“Uh-huh…” he said. He knew he was about to get a new assignment, he just didn’t know how new. He assumed that Stevie O’Neil was a new trainee for narcotics; Dave was the resident field training officer for the unit. He already knew this was special, however, because he usually got his assignments from his lieutenant and best friend, Spider Nguyen.
“That isn’t what you think, Dave,” Midnight said, leaning back in her chair and putting an elegantly booted foot on the bottom drawer of her desk. As the chief, she had made some changes in her daily “uniform” of jeans, boots, and cotton Oxford shirts. Usually she wore impeccably cut chinos, long-sleeved silk blouses and more refined and stylish calf-skin boots. Even at thirty-seven, she looked beautiful and still a bit on the wild side, but when she donned the perfectly tailored jacket she wore to meetings, she fit in with the more professional-looking crowd. All in all, however, she was still pretty much the same woman that had fought on the mean streets of San Diego to beat back the onslaught of gangs in the city. Fought and won, in many cases.
“Okay,” Dave said, his lips twitching in mild curiosity. “Then what is it?”
Midnight grinned; Dave always was her easygoing one. He took everything as it came.
“Well, that young lady no longer works for the department…” she began.
“You’re transferring me to records retention?” Dave deadpanned, causing a chuckle from Kyle.
Midnight laughed, shaking her head. “No.” Then her face grew serious as she looked back at him. “You see, we have there a former officer who may be going vigilante on me.”
Dave stared back at Midnight for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as he pursed his lips in thought. He was definitely curious now. “And…” he prompted
“And…” Midnight echoed, her gold-green eyes staring directly back into his as she sat up, leaning forward in her intensity. “I want her back.”
At the back of the room, Kyle was reeling slightly from the surprise Midnight had just dropped. He had thought maybe he’d cut the girl some kind of deal when they caught her, but wanting her back—was she crazy?
Dave’s eyes reflected surprise too, even as his face remained passive. He looked down at the folder in his hands. Leaning back, he flipped it open, scanning through the information it contained as Midnight looked on.
Stevie O’Neil had been with the department for two years before she left. “To pursue other avenues” had been the reason listed on her exit interview. “Her probation reports were excellent,” Dave said to no one in particular, reading on. “Her scores in the academy were surprisingly high in both marksmanship and arrest and control.”
The purely physical side of him noted from the picture that she was a nice-looking woman with dark auburn hair, deep emerald green eyes, and porcelain skin. He flipped to her original application for the academy and noted the names listed as references. Dave glanced up to see that Midnight was watching him closely.
“Rhiannon and Jason Templeton?” Dave asked, his eyes reflecting that some understanding was dawning.
“Yep,” Midnight said. “Her sister and her now-deceased brother-in-law.”
“O’Neil, O’Neil…” Dave muttered, remembering the name from somewhere. Then he had it. He was a little stunned. “Was Frank O’Neil their father?”
Midnight nodded, looking grave.
“Shit…” Dave breathed, shaking his head.
Midnight looked back at Kyle to explain this part of the puzzle. “Frank O’Neil was a patrol officer killed in the line of duty eleven years ago. He’d worked for the department for twenty years. He left a wife and two daughters behind.”
“That’s why you want her back,” Dave said, with no question in his voice.
“She’s family,” Midnight replied.
Dave nodded, understanding perfectly what Midnight meant. Then he had another thought.
“She have anything to do with that textbook stitch that turned up last night?”
Midnight’s lips tugged in a frown. “She might have, yes.”
Dave nodded again, then canted his head to the side. “Media know the condition of the body?”
“Nope, just got the report.”
Dave looked thoughtful for a moment. “And what does it say?”
“That lethal force was the final shot. That the victim was on the move till then.”
“So if he was after her…” Dave began.
“She stopped the threat,” Midnight said, finishing his thought.
Dave nodded. “Okay, so how do you want me to proceed?”
“I want you to make undercover contact with her.”
“And if she recognizes me?”
“She probably will.”
“And if she takes a shot at me?”
“Duck.”
“Haha,” Dave replied, grinning in spite of his sarcastic tone.
“If I’m right about her…” Midnight said, her eyes narrowing in thought. She shook her head. “She won’t shoot a fellow officer.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Dave asked, and began to nod as Midnight grinned. “I know—duck!”
“In that file is all the info we have on her. I don’t know what’s current and what’s not. We think she’s working for Tiempo,” she added, watching Dave closely.
Dave glanced up from the document in his hand, his face showing mild surprise. “If she is, our girl has done well, hasn’t she?”
Midnight nodded.
Marco Tiempo was a drug dealer of some reputation. He’d killed off a lot of his competition. He was also the person the San Diego Police Department held directly responsible for the death of Jason Templeton.
“Hell,” Midnight said, shrugging. “We may be doing Tiempo a favor here.”
Dave nodded, his grin sardonic.
Chapter 3
At two o’clock that afternoon, Kyle and Joe were on their way to Joe’s house on the beach in La Jolla. Joe drove the new car he had bought a few weeks before—his “midlife crisis” car, as Randy liked to put it. It was a $135,000 Aston Martin V12 Vantage. Its sleek lines and ultra-powerful engine screamed rich man’s toy. Joe’s passion was the speed of the vehicle; he didn’t care about the price tag, or the cliché that attached itself to a thirty-nine-year-old man with an expensive sports car.
Kyle looked around the interior of the car, noting the gauges and expensive leather upholstery. “Nice,” he commented, aware that it was an understatement but not wanting to overdo it either.
Joe grinned. “Randy says I’ll need the twenty-year-old girlfriend next.”
“Will you?” Kyle asked, his grin wry.
Joe shrugged. “Randy’s only thirty-three—that’ll have to do.”
“Is she a good shot?”
“The best,” Joe said, rolling his eyes. “I trained her.”
Kyle laughed. “Well, then she’ll have to do.”
; “You’ve never seen my wife, have you?” Joe asked, giving Kyle a lopsided grin.
“Nope.”
“Well, you’ll see her tonight. If I have to settle with a woman, I’ll stay in paradise with her.”
“Love her that much, huh?” Kyle asked, knowing the answer—he could see it in Joe’s eyes. “You could say that.”
They were both silent for a while. Joe had heard about Kyle’s wife, and didn’t want to say something that might bring up bad feelings.
“So this house is how big?” Kyle asked after a long while.
“Five bedrooms.”
“And you’re asking how much?”
Joe rubbed at his chin with his forefinger. “How much are you paying in New York?”
“Twenty-five hundred.”
“For what?”
“Three-bedroom apartment.”
“Own or rent?”
“Own.”
“And you’re gonna let it out or something?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to sell it just yet—the boys are still really attached to it,” Kyle said, his tone deepening a bit. It was obvious the boys weren’t the only ones still attached to it.
“And you can get that for it?”
“Easily,” Kyle replied. Apparently Joe had no concept of New York real estate.
As Joe turned off the main road and headed up a driveway, he said, “Okay, how about fifteen hundred?”
Kyle started to answer, and then the house came into view. Midnight had been right; it was practically a mansion. It had columns and elongated windows. Two stories of beautiful home. It was at least four thousand square feet. He turned to Joe, remembering the price he had named. “Are you nuts?”
Joe grinned. “Why do you say that?”
Kyle glanced back at the house and made a gesture of incredulity. “It’s a palace, compared to my apartment.”
“This is California,” Joe said simply.
“And it’s just as expensive as New York, just spaced better.”
Joe shrugged, turning to get out of the car. “It’s paid off, and I don’t need the money, Masters. I’m only charging you because Midnight told me to, so take it or leave it.”
Past in the Present (MidKnight Blue Book 9) Page 9
