Chick returned a few minutes later with three beers on a tray and left with a muttered, “Do not tear up my place or I’ll kick all your asses, cops or not.”
“You got it, buddy. No problem.” Chief Levering glared down at the table as the door slammed shut. “You finish talking,” he charged Jason. Then he directed Scott, “And you don’t open your mouth again until he does.”
Jason gulped down half a beer before explaining how the CD in Riley’s van had begun a chain reaction.
“Damn it.” Scott swore, clearly forgetting the part where he was supposed to keep his mouth shut. “I heard something when she cranked up the radio in the car that day, but I never gave it another thought. Just figured one of the kids had been pushing buttons.”
“I didn’t think you’d heard, but with everything going on I couldn’t be sure if you were setting me up or not. I needed to get hold of that CD to find out exactly what was on it.”
Scott sank back in the chair, glaring. “That was what you were after.”
Jason nodded.
“Well, you got it,” Chief Levering said dryly. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”
“The CD wasn’t what I expected.” Coming across that CD and learning what it contained were the luckiest breaks he’d had lately. Jason reached inside the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope. “Turns out it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the assholes blackmailing me. Details about operations that went down when they first got into this area nearly three years ago.”
That got a reaction. Both Chief Levering and Scott stared at him as he withdrew two burned copies of the CD and slid them across the table. “Here you go.”
Scott took it. “Riley had this?”
Jason nodded. “When you hear what’s on it, you’ll draw the same conclusions I did.”
“Cut to the chase,” Chief Levering ground out harshly, and Jason didn’t miss the way his face had drained of all color, making him look old and tired.
“It had to be Mike’s. That’s the only way to explain why it surfaced now. Riley must have come across it after she got home. I’m willing to bet money she doesn’t have a clue what it is because she’d have never left this sort of incriminating evidence lying around under the car seat. She’s a reporter. She’s not stupid.”
“Incriminating evidence about this DEA agent,” Chief Levering repeated.
“And about the people responsible for gunning down Mike.”
The sudden silence seemed alive. Then Scott was shaking his head. “No way, man. We brought down everyone. Every damn one.”
“That you knew about. Because if you’d have known about the DEA, you’d have fried them like you fried everyone else involved in Mike’s murder, and saved me a boatload of trouble.”
Jason snorted. “My guess is you didn’t know Agent Asshole was blackmailing a parole officer. But those hoods who recorded this CD did. They detailed everything they might need to make sure they weren’t nailed if any shit went down. If you’d known about that parole officer, you’d have blown open this whole thing. I’m thinking Mike must have come across this CD. I’m thinking that’s what got him killed.”
That silence again. Jason wanted to tell Chief Levering to sit down before he fell down, just as the older man dropped heavily into a chair.
Scott slammed a hand down on the table. “The CD that went missing from the evidence room.”
“You knew about it?” Now it was Jason’s turn to be surprised.
Scott nodded. “It was the only loose end we had after the investigation. A CD that was picked up in a bust and logged in as evidence. We never could find it.”
“What happened?” Jason asked.
“I’m thinking Mike must have taken it home,” Chief Levering said.
“Mike would never have taken anything from the property room without signing. He was by the book.” Scott scowled. “That CD was never checked out. I know because I went through every damn entry myself.”
“It wouldn’t have been Mike’s job to log it out, but the officer on duty in the property room,” Chief Levering pointed out. “We questioned everyone about that CD. Maybe no one could remember anything because someone screwed up. We don’t have any clue when Mike might have taken it. And we’ve got a couple of cops who aren’t even with the department anymore. Maybe someone was covering his ass because he screwed up and forgot to log that entry and was afraid to say something.”
It happened, Jason knew. Just like he knew if that CD had been logged out of the property room the way it should have been, Mike Angelica might still be alive and Jason himself wouldn’t be staring at the end of his own life as he’d known it.
“And you’re willing to testify about all this if I help you set up the DEA?” Chief Levering eyed him levelly.
“I want to cut a deal.” There was only one way he stood a chance with Callie. That was by owning up and taking the heat. “I’m not one of these assholes, no matter what you think. I have to try to salvage something from the wreckage. I’ve got details about the biggest shipment he’s brought into the area that I know of. A well-known drug distribution ring operating out of Mexico. Your department will be shining stars.”
“Why?” Scott said.
“Why what?”
“Why are you coming to us now? You’ve known this DEA agent and his team went bad ever since they set you up. Why the change of heart now? Why not before you involved Riley—” Scott turned to stare at Jason, understanding all over his face.
Jason didn’t have to say a word. He half expected Scott to come after him again, but Scott was already on his feet, cell phone at his ear, voice raw as he barked into the receiver, “Charlie, talk to me. Everything okay there?”
Jason just sat there, feeling sick all over again when Chief Levering’s gaze swiveled to him. “Tell me that agent didn’t make you target Riley.”
He was saved from replying when Scott demanded, “What delivery? Did you check out the driver? What about the flowers?”
Scott shot Jason a gaze that made him marvel at the man’s self-control.
“Are you inside yet?” Scott hissed into the receiver. “Is she okay?”
As Scott waited, he covered the receiver and told Chief Levering, “I got a bad feeling. I’m heading back. We can brief for the operation—”
A shock of sound emitted from the phone so loud that even Jason could hear. The phone flew from Scott’s hand as he instinctively jerked it from his ear. It hit the table and skittered hard, but Scott caught it in a fast lunge.
“Charlie?” He yelled into the receiver. “Charlie, are you there?” Scott snapped the phone shut, cursing, then jammed a few buttons. He dragged the phone back to his ear. “Come on, Sal.”
Chief Levering was already on his feet when Scott announced, “He’s not answering, either.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
RILEY SET the extravagant basket of flowers on the kitchen table, then stepped back to view the result. She wasn’t sure why the Herald had sent them. Max had been pleased she’d made her deadline despite stolen equipment, but she didn’t think he’d been responsible. It was more likely Shirley Henderson, his assistant.
The card read, So you know the Herald cares.
This sweet show of support only added to her conflict about the job. She liked the familiarity and flexibility but didn’t want to cover the action anymore. It just wasn’t safe. Maybe, like so many areas of her life, the time had come for a new challenge.
She stared outside at her freshly mowed yard shadowed in oncoming dusk and remembered the kids from Renaissance she’d met earlier. They’d worked so hard, had spent hours and hours hacking away brush and weeding beds. They might have looked like hoods that she would have avoided on the street, but they’d been very polite when Scott had introduced them, so appreciative of her efforts when she’d brought them iced tea. Just kids.
They hadn’t had the breaks her own kids were getting. Even though losing Mike had unexpectedly and ir
revocably altered their family, her kids still had a parent to help them make sense of the tragedy of losing their dad. They had extended family who loved them. They had stability.
Not the kids Riley had met today. She didn’t know their individual circumstances the way Scott did, but she knew those kids had been forced to face the hard side of life at too young an age, might not have had parents who loved them or who could take the time to teach them how to live purposeful lives.
That didn’t make them bad people. Scott knew that. She liked that about him. And he was right about something else, too. Whatever she decided about her job ultimately, she shouldn’t decide because she was scared.
Setting a good example for her kids was the most important thing. She didn’t want to teach them to run away from life’s difficulties. Move on, yes—sometimes they wouldn’t get a choice—but never run because they were scared.
“Riley?” A sharp knock echoed down the hallway. “Open up.”
She recognized Charlie’s voice. Smiling at that bright floral arrangement, she spun on her heel and headed out of the kitchen. She’d give the circulation desk a call while she was folding the laundry. Shirley would already be gone for the weekend, but Riley would leave a message.
Then the house literally shook beneath her feet. The walls vibrated around her, and a rush of heat filled the hallway as the security alarm, wired to sense fire, shrieked a warning. But Riley didn’t need the alarm to know what was happening. She could hear the roar of flames, and froze for an instant, her muscles utterly rigid as panic and reason collided.
Get out. Call 9-1-1.
Her cell phone was in the bedroom. She didn’t need it. Charlie or Sal would radio emergency if they hadn’t already.
Launching herself into motion again, she covered the distance to the front door in a few bounding steps. She flipped the dead bolt and yanked the door wide.
She expected to find Charlie, but not lying in a heap on the floor. For another stunned instant she stared down at the collapsed officer on her front porch. How had the explosion harmed him here when she hadn’t been hurt inside the house?
She noticed the cell phone discarded beside him, and the ajar porch door just as it swung wide, slamming into her with such force that she rocked backward. Staggering to catch her balance, her feet tangled in Charlie’s inert form, and she yelped, bracing herself as she fell.
“Sorry, ma’am.” Strong hands grabbed her arm, dragged her upright with enough force to nearly yank her shoulder from its socket. Riley cried out again, glancing up to find a muscular man in a paramedic uniform hanging on to her.
He pulled her through the open doorway, then let the door swing shut again. Charlie disappeared from sight.
“I’m okay,” she insisted over the steady shriek of the security alarm. “But Charlie—”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. He’ll be taken care of,” the paramedic said coolly. “Right now we need to assess your condition.”
Don’t worry? Her house was burning down and there was a family friend lying unconscious on her porch floor. Don’t worry?
Riley glanced around, the panic tightening like a vise around her chest. She struggled to draw in a good breath, to make sense of the sight before her.
An ambulance idled beside the police cruiser in the driveway, but she didn’t see any sign of Sal, who’d ridden with Charlie. Had he radioed in the explosion? Was that how the ambulance had gotten here so quickly?
“The fire department—?”
“Already on its way,” the paramedic said, steering her around the cruiser and toward the ambulance.
She noticed another man behind the wheel of the emergency vehicle, but something wasn’t right. Riley didn’t know what it was, only that panic was well and truly taking hold of her.
Something wasn’t right.
That thought lodged in her brain as she stumbled along on clumsy feet as the paramedic rushed her toward the ambulance, keeping up a steady stream of chatter. How had it gotten here so quickly? Even if Charlie had radioed the instant he’d heard the explosion…
Charlie was unconscious. Unconscious? Or dead?
The thought finally pierced Riley’s confusion, and she pulled away. The man’s grip was a vise around her upper arm. When she resisted, he simply tightened his grip and lent his considerable bulk to the cause, shoving her toward the waiting ambulance.
“Come on, ma’am. We need to check you out.”
“Let me go.” She fought with every ounce of her strength, kicking out as the certainty that something was terribly wrong drove away all thoughts of the man on her porch and the fire raging in her kitchen.
“Sal,” she screamed, relieved by the power of her voice. If he didn’t hear her, someone else might. “Sal. Help me.”
As quickly as she started fighting, Riley stopped, becoming a dead weight against the man’s grip, drawing on every ounce of defense training Mike had ever taught her. The paramedic staggered, caught by surprise, his balance uncertain. Riley slammed the heel of her hand into his face while pulling away. She heard a sickening crunch, and the man grunted loudly. This time she broke free.
Lunging into motion, she managed to get almost to the cruiser when the sound of a blaring horn startled her. But she didn’t even flinch, just kept running.
Until the paramedic tackled her.
The breath fled her lungs with a whoosh as his muscular frame slammed into her, knocked her to the ground. She hit the concrete hard enough to make her see stars, and for a stunned instant she didn’t move, didn’t fight back.
That was all he needed to drag her upright by the hair. In one skilled move, he locked his arm around her throat and half dragged, half carried her to the ambulance.
He hefted her up and tossed her inside without a word. She landed in a heap, her chest still seized around a breath. She couldn’t expel any air, couldn’t drag any in.
He slammed the doors shut, sealing her in darkness. Then the vehicle accelerated with the screech of tires, and Riley was slammed backward, hitting something—a gurney, she thought. With her feet, she anchored herself upright, fighting unconsciousness, refusing to leave herself so vulnerable. She needed to remain alert, to look for the opportunity to escape, or at the very least signal help.
Scott.
Just the thought of him helped focus her, and she fought for that breath, to control her panic and fear, to relax her chest enough to breathe, breathe, breathe.
In slow degrees, the vise eased. Oxygen flooded back into her lungs, sharpened her vision, or maybe she was just growing accustomed to the darkness. She willed herself to think, though her brain didn’t seem to be working yet. The lack of oxygen or the fear, she didn’t know.
She just knew she couldn’t panic. Who had her and why? The medical scam she’d been investigating? The ambulance. Made sense. Her abductors were professional. That much she knew. This was no random abduction but a well-planned attack.
The ambulance skidded around a curve so hard Riley flung an arm out to brace herself. The gurney rattled noisily. Equipment, wires and hoses and belts, swung wildly until the ambulance righted itself. They were probably taking the curve near Mrs. Haslam’s place.
She tried to focus, but disjointed thoughts kept racing through her head. Thank God the kids were away. If they had been inside the house, that explosion… She hadn’t been able to protect herself. Thank God the kids were with Rosie and Joe. They were the only things that mattered. She could live without the house, without her mementoes of life with Mike. As long as she had her kids and her memories.
An emergency siren screeched, and for a heart-stopping second, Riley felt a wave of hope so strong, she gasped aloud. Help had arrived. Scott had come.
She knew he would find her.
Then she realized the sound was coming from this ambulance, a diversion that would give her abductors the advantage.
With a cry, she flung herself at the doors, hoping to unlock them. It didn’t matter how fast they drove. She’d th
row herself into the path of oncoming traffic if it would get her out of this ambulance before they merged onto Mountain Road, which would lead them to the Taconic Parkway where her abductors could drive eighty miles an hour to anywhere they wanted.
She pulled on the door latches, tears springing to her eyes when they levered ineffectually against her grip.
Locked.
She pounded her fists against the door, drawing a laugh from one of the men in the cab, a laugh she could hear over the blaring siren and the sounds of two sweet little voices.
“Mommy died. Mommy died like Daddy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“CAN’T YOU GET THEM on the radio yet?” Scott demanded.
“Damn it.” The chief braced himself against the dashboard as the cruiser’s wheels lifted off the ground, then landed again with a jarring thump. “No wonder you can’t keep a partner when you drive like this.”
Scott didn’t comment. He was too focused on keeping the car on the road after his left wheel caught the shoulder, kicking up gravel and dirt and practically ripping the steering wheel from his grasp. From Chick’s in the Valley to Riley’s house was barely a five-minute drive, but all of Traver Road wound through a mixture of hilly woods and farmland. Not an easy road to travel at high speed, especially when it was getting dark.
The chief’s answer was to radio through to dispatch again.
“Still no contact with Charlie’s unit, but we’ve got our first report of a fire at Riley’s address,” the chief said grimly. “A neighbor. She wanted to know why the ambulance took off before the fire truck got there.”
“How the hell did the paramedics get there when they’re still two minutes behind us?” Scott glanced away from the road and found the chief staring back, gaze narrowing.
Strangely, Scott had Jason to thank for being with the chief right now. And he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather have sitting beside him. Except for Mike. Not when his heart was pounding the rapid-fire rhythm of an automatic weapon. Not when only long years of training kept him focused with the roar of that explosion looping in his memory. The sound of Charlie cursing. Then the awful silence.
Her Husband’s Partner Page 17
