She looked from Austin to Katia to the concerned look on Isabelle’s face. “Not because I’m the cop, Katia, but because I was wrong.”
CHAPTER TEN
“JOSH!” VIOLET CALLED as she ran after him.
He was half a block from Lou’s Diner, and he kept walking.
“Josh, please.” She rushed up to him.
He kept walking. “Why? You made it pretty clear what you think of me. Frankly, you were easier on me when you arrested me.”
“Stop.” She tugged on his sleeve.
He halted at the street corner. “Look, I’m leaving town. Okay? Believe me, I’m better off in Indianapolis, or Dubai for that matter. Anywhere but here.”
“I was wrong,” she blurted.
“When?”
“Just now. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
He snorted. “Oh, but you thought it, right? Your low opinion of me still stands.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then just what is it, Officer Hawks?”
“Stop. Again. Call me Violet. All my friends do.”
“And now I’m your friend?”
Her forced smile faded. “I don’t know you, Josh Stevens. But I’d like to. I was harsh in there, and what I said was rude and uncalled for. I want...you to forgive me.”
He dropped his chin to his chest, his bluster dissipating. He raised his head and his eyes probed her face. “Okay.”
“Is that a ‘yes’?”
“Uh-huh. If you’ll forgive me.”
“For what?”
“I’ve been on edge for weeks. I overreacted in there. I shouldn’t have walked out in a huff. It’s just that this race is important for my sponsors and all my crew. They count on me.”
“But you’ll win. You always win.”
“It’s not like that, Officer... Violet. I barely made the time trials, and we’re still vying for post positions. There’s a lot of drivers coming up who are really good. And some others who would like to clean my clock.”
“Rivals?”
“Exactly like that. One in particular, Chuck Crain.”
Violet looked at him thoughtfully. “I’ve heard that name. My brothers call him ‘Crash’ Crain. That the same guy?”
“One and the same.”
“And he’s a threat to you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Was it the race you were thinking about when you were speeding?”
“When you caught me, you mean?” His smile was fleeting. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah.”
“No, something else. When I’m driving, I’m always focused. But every once in a while, my mind goes to a place...” He looked down at the sidewalk. He swept the toe of his shoe over a Bradford pear blossom. “Actually, you brought it up in there.” He jerked his head back toward the diner.
She sighed. “I think I know. Your mom and dad.”
“Yeah.”
“You still miss them? I know I miss my dad.”
“I do. Guess that’s another thing we have in common.”
“You were only six. I still had my mom and family. Who took you in after that? Your grandparents?”
He shook his head and looked away.
Violet saw sparkling tears in his eyes.
He took a moment before answering. “Naw. No family. I was put in a foster home.”
“Where?”
“Indianapolis to start. Then Carmel. Then Zionsville. Then...”
She touched his hand. “Josh, I’m so sorry. Can I ask? How many were there?”
“I stopped counting after twelve. But there were plenty more before I was on my own. Luckily, I met Paul. He saw potential in me because I could fix just about any car engine you put in front of me. Antique, electronic. Foreign. Domestic. I made it my business to know them all.”
“I’m impressed.”
He slid his forefinger under his eye, rubbed the corner as if making sure she didn’t see the fissure in his composure. “Then Paul introduced me to big players in the racing world. I was a natural, and I worked my way up to Formula One like I was born to do it. The rest is history.”
“Hmm.” She tilted her head as she looked at him. A warm feeling spread inside and lingered around her heart. “I think there’s a lot of pages missing. Especially the ones that explain why you drove so fast that day.”
“I’m not quite ready to share those pages yet.”
“You don’t trust me, you mean.”
“Well, do you blame me?”
“I don’t. I know I was right to ticket you for speeding, but I shouldn’t have arrested you.”
“Yeah? Tell that to the judge.” The side of his mouth cranked into a half smile.
She knew he was thinking of the ramifications that judgment could make on his record. If his attorney couldn’t get it expunged, the press would pull it up in the future whenever they wanted to demean him.
“Maybe I will.”
“Will what?”
“Talk to the judge. If I tell her I want to retract the arrest, and explain to her that I misjudged the situation...”
“But the video...” he reminded her.
“I know,” she replied, looked down and slowly back up to him. It was hard for her to admit her mistakes. It took courage. “Josh, what I’m trying to say is that I let my emotions run away with me. I got angry and reactionary.”
“Same.”
“Okay. So, we were both a bit hot-headed.” She chuckled, and her heart urged her to do the right thing. “I’m not saying I can get the charge dropped, but I’m willing to give it a try.”
Josh was thoughtful for a long moment. “And what will your chief say?”
“He’s not all that happy with me as it is. I’ve made no secret about wanting to make detective someday. That stakeout I was on was my very first. I’m being given a second shot at a stakeout. I have to earn anything more than that.” She drew in a breath. “There is the possibility that if I tell the judge I made a mistake and the chief doesn’t approve, I might even lose my job.”
“Then don’t do it.”
“If I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong. I have to make the chief understand that. If he has a problem with it, then I should go. I’ll find another job.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. But not right here in your hometown where you know everyone.”
“Indian Lake wasn’t my first choice. It was precisely because this was my hometown that I wanted to leave. I was aiming for the sky.”
“The sky? As in...”
“New York. LA.”
“Fine metropolitan centers.” He chuckled. “Lots of crime in both places.”
“I know. I like to think they need me,” she joked.
He touched her upper arm. “Seriously, Violet. I don’t want you to risk your job for me. It’s not worth it.”
“Perhaps the chief will be reasonable, keep me on and cite me for an infraction.”
“What’s that? Ten days in the brig?”
“That’s the navy,” she laughed.
“Oh, sorry. I’ll have to learn the lingo.”
Violet swallowed her laugh. “Why would you do that? Take time to learn about my job, I mean?”
His hand had moved to her shoulder. She started to reach to touch his hand and then lowered hers.
“Because...”
Just then Katia and Austin came out of Lou’s Diner. Isabelle and the kids hugged the couple and walked in the opposite direction toward Isabelle’s car.
“Hey!” Austin yelled, turning and seeing Josh. He waved.
“You’re still here!” Katia grabbed Austin’s hand. They walked up to Violet and Josh.
Katia hugged Josh and kissed his cheek. “We wish you all the luck in the world with your
post-position trials, Josh.”
“Sure do, man,” Austin said, hugging Josh, as well.
“Thanks, guys. You’re both the best.” Josh beamed. “You’ll be there, right? For the race?”
Katia leaned her head against Austin’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“What are friends for but to take you up on free tickets and those after-race parties?” Austin laughed.
“See you soon,” Katia said. “And Vi, come over some night for dinner, huh? I’ll call Mrs. Beabots. You both come.”
“Thanks, Katia.”
Austin and Katia walked arm in arm toward Austin’s Ferrari convertible.
Josh shoved his hand in his pants pocket and took out his keys. “Well, it’s getting late. I should be going, too.”
“Right. You have a long drive.”
“It’s not so bad. I go the old route through Kokomo.”
“Good thinking,” she replied, watching him walk backward.
“Well, take care, Officer Hawks,” he said, then turned and slowly jogged away.
He didn’t look back.
She put her arms around herself, turned and walked back to her car.
Josh had hugs for Austin and Katia. There were smiles and promises of seeing each other very soon.
“That’s what friends do,” she said as she hit the remote on her squad car.
“I would like it very much if you were my friend, Josh.”
She got in the car and turned on the engine.
“Very much.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VIOLET DUNKED A bag of orange pekoe tea into a Styrofoam cup of steaming water. She needed to stay awake because she was on to something regarding Miguel Garcia. She’d been at the computer running through the National Crime Information Center database for hours. In addition to criminal history and basic information like birthdate and physical description, she found prison records.
Trent had a source in the Chicago Police Department who’d told him that Josh knew Diego Lopez, aka Miguel Garcia, and that Lopez had been a former inmate at the Illinois State Prison. She opened her desk drawer and withdrew the Indian Lake Herald newspaper article Scott had written two years ago about the police bust on the Le Grand gang that Detective Davis had spearheaded.
A zing of excitement rushed through Violet as she hovered over the keyboard, her fingers racing. “Is it possible?”
The Miguel Garcia she was researching might have met up with Le Grand. The kingpin drug lord had targeted Indian Lake as his next “way station” for his highway to traffic drugs up from Mexico to Chicago, up to Detroit and then on to Toronto and the rest of Canada.
If her suspect had known Le Grand in prison, it was highly possible Miguel was carrying out orders to set up distribution centers in Indian Lake.
The next tab came up and revealed that Miguel had been released the previous year. “The timing would have given Miguel a year in which both he and Le Grand were in the same prison.” She dug further into the records and found both men had been assigned the same cell block. She’d call the prison in the morning and verify her findings. But her hunch clutched her gut.
Out of 319 Miguel Garcias she’d found, one had been arrested outside a coffee house in Evanston, Illinois. He’d been followed by Chicago Drug Task Force undercover officers for months. After a particular drug deal, Garcia sought to elude police by switching vehicles as many as four times during a two-hour period after the drug deal. Unfortunately, the cops didn’t find a gram of drugs when they finally caught up with him. Garcia was let go.
Violet moved the mouse up several lines and paused as she read about the different car makes he’d driven. “What’s a GranTurismo?”
She did a Google search and as the photo came up, her back slammed against the office chair. “Maserati.”
Clamping her hand over her mouth to stifle both glee and surprise, she looked around at the empty station. Nearly everyone had gone home. The dispatcher was still on duty, doing crossword puzzles. She looked up at the clock on the wall over the door.
“How can it be nearly midnight?”
She’d been so intent on her search, she’d lost all track of time.
“But it’s paid off...”
Violet keyed up the particular Miguel Garcia, and pulled his mug shot and searched for background history.
He was born in Indianapolis, tall, black hair, brown eyes. His face was angular. Again she sat back, looking at the noticeable determination in his expression. There was no regret, not even anger. This was a man who knew what he wanted and would fight to get it.
Violet continued reading.
“Born Diego Lopez. The same Diego Lopez who was in prison with Le Grand.”
Parents deceased. One sister, Rosa, residence unknown. At the age of nine, the siblings were separated. Diego was taken into state custody and placed in a foster home. From the age of ten until sixteen, Diego had apparently spent time in juvenile detention, doing community work and attending counseling as he did in public schools. From petty thievery, usually in mini-marts and grocery stores, to joy-riding in stolen cars, all of which were returned unharmed, Diego appeared directionless and unrestricted.
Her hands slid away from the keyboard, no longer needing to search, dig or uncover.
Josh’s words rushed back in a torrent. I stopped counting after twelve. But there were plenty.
She slid her hand over her mouth and stared blankly at the screen.
I could fix just about any engine you put in front of me. Antique. Foreign. Domestic.
Violet felt an internal shift like one of those perspective-altering revelations that turned sinners to saints.
“Two boys caught in the same predicament. One, Josh, is shuffled from home to home and finds his calling in a car engine. Curiosity spurs him to tinker and repair engines. A happenstance person is put into his life, Paul Saylor, who not only likes cars but sponsors race cars and drivers. Josh Stevens’s future is made.”
She held her left palm in front of her. “Here we have Diego Lopez. In the process of being shuffled from home to home, Diego only wants to break out. He finds nothing to pique his curiosity or any natural talent. He turns to crime. It’s easy, and the consequences are little different from foster care. Upon maturity, he discovers the monetary gains in drug dealing satisfy his need for excitement and wealth. And somehow he buys or acquires a hundred-thousand-dollar-plus Maserati.”
Violet gnawed her bottom lip, hit print and walked to the printer.
As the pages of Miguel Lopez’s bio spat out of the machine, Violet composed the oral report she’d give to Detective Davis in the morning, along with her research notes and conclusions.
At her desk, she stapled the pages together, turned off the computer and glanced at her cup of tea.
She hadn’t taken the first sip.
* * *
“OFFICER HAWKS, I’D appreciate an explanation of what is going on here.” Detective Trent Davis held a set of Violet’s reports in each hand.
“This—” he shoved the single sheet in the air “—appears to be a petition to the court by Josh Stevens’s lawyer, Paul Saylor, to expunge his arrest from the records. Which, no doubt, will happen, given Mr. Saylor’s tenacity. However, with it are emails from both Josh Stevens and Paul Saylor to Chief Williams and to me, asking to stop you from retracting your arrest. It seems that Mr. Stevens is concerned about your career, though his lawyer counseled him not to be.”
Violet interrupted, though she knew she didn’t have permission to speak. “I wanted to talk to you about that, sir.”
“Feel free. But let’s start with the fact that you can’t do anything about the arrest. It’s done.”
“I know that, sir.”
“Good.”
“I wanted to apologize to Mr. Stevens. I got carried awa
y.”
“Like you did during the arrest?”
She kept her eyes on her superior, knowing that her impetuosity could cost her her job. “Sir, I was hasty. It won’t happen again.”
Trent’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Learning from our mistakes is essential. And for the record, I made plenty of missteps when I was a rookie.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now, about this report?”
She swallowed hard. Was he still upset with her? Had she crossed another line? Detective Davis had wanted to stay on top of Miguel Garcia, but they’d been short of manpower and hours so she’d done all the research herself.
“Yes, sir?”
“When did you have time to do this?”
“Last night,” she answered honestly. “One thing led to another...and I...”
“It’s good work, Hawks.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“With the intel we’ve had from the CPD and this new information you’ve dug up, I agree with your findings that Miguel Garcia is trying to round up others of the old Le Grand gang. Miguel has lived in Chicago for the past ten years. This we know. Richard has quite a dossier on him. Richard suspects Le Grand has never stepped out of the picture and that he’s heading up a new operation from prison. And Miguel is his right hand.”
“So, he’s more dangerous than you’d thought?”
“All drug traffickers are dangerous. But my guess is that Miguel is highly motivated.”
“He’d have to be. That’s an expensive car he drives. No telling what other toys he wants.”
“People like Miguel? They want it all, Officer Hawks. Money. Power over others. Fame.”
“Fame?”
“They crave attention. Probably didn’t get it as a child. Says here he grew up in foster homes. Had a rough time there. So, as an adult, he can’t live without the limelight. He can’t get attention legitimately, so he goes for headlines as a criminal.”
“Negative attention is still attention.”
“Bingo.”
Violet’s mind raced as she voiced her thoughts. “And to turn on megawatt lights—perhaps a grand jury investigation? A trial so controversial that it’s covered by all the media... And you think if you catch him, he just might turn state’s evidence? He’d be a star on a witness stand?”
Hers to Protect Page 8
