by Regan Black
The department couldn’t afford to have another case go awry for any reason.
She didn’t want to pull Troy from his review of the Emerson case and she wasn’t sure he could be impartial, either. Not after they’d rescued Danny as a team. Should she call Ian? No. He’d worked the Paxton case. Once he identified the men speaking, he’d have opinions that might turn into conjecture or, worse, rumors.
As she gazed out over her department, she realized there was only one person she wanted to speak with about this. She called her older brother, Clarke.
“I’ll buy if you’ll bring lunch for both of us,” she said when he answered.
“Pretty late lunch,” he countered. “It’s already after two.”
“Blame it on a long Monday morning,” she explained. “I really need an ear that can be objective on something.”
“All right. How about I bring over your usual from Mae’s Diner?”
“Yes, please.” Her stomach rumbled in anticipation. “Thanks, Clarke.”
With help on the way, she opened up every file in the database that involved both Antonio and Drew Orr. She didn’t expect any big revelations, but she wanted the full context. She was in the middle of a similar search through local media archives for any articles and interviews involving the men when Clarke walked in.
Her office was graced with the savory aroma of juicy cheeseburgers and salty, thick-cut fries. “Did you bring onion rings?”
“Of course.” He set the white paper bag and the drink tray on her desk.
She grinned at him. “Thanks for coming.” He hadn’t closed her door, so she hopped up and handled that detail herself.
“So it’s a working lunch,” he observed, unpacking the bag. “No milkshakes on the menu today,” he explained. “It’s a root-beer float instead.”
“Perfect.” And it was. For a few minutes they ate in companionable silence. When she finished the last onion ring and he was down to a few fries, she told him why she needed to talk.
Clarke sat back, crossed his ankle over his knee and motioned for her to hit Play on the conversation Antonio had sent. A hard scowl creased his face as he listened.
“Well?” she prompted.
“Still wondering why you called me.”
“I need someone objective.”
“Then you missed the mark,” Clarke said. “He saved Danny and then saved you, too, Saturday night. I’m not inclined to be objective. Why are you?”
She picked up a pen and tapped it rapidly against her palm, searching for the most expedient way to explain. “There’s the outright lie about the facial recognition at the house. Plus the hesitation in his voice after Orr makes his vague accusation about Wendy.”
Clarke motioned for her to play it again. Reluctantly, he nodded and pointed at the pad of paper on her desk. “You made a note to ask him about that, right?”
She nodded.
“I think he’s trying to provoke the man.” Clarke bounced his heel. “Did Antonio see the shooter on Saturday night?” Clarke asked.
It took her a half second to recover from the unsettling idea of Antonio provoking a man who had likely already killed a person. “He says he did. Gave a description at the scene. He’s sure it was Orr.”
“But you can’t confirm?”
“No.” She drummed the pen on her palm. “Antonio blocked my view of the car.”
Clarke leaned forward. “On purpose?”
“No.” She forced herself to think it through. “Not even a little bit. He was operating on instinct, I think.”
“Brave man.”
“Or sure he wouldn’t be hit?” she asked, for the sake of argument.
Clarke gave her a knowing look that reminded her too much of their dad. “Now you’re just thinking the worst of him to be contrary, instead of just considering both sides to be impartial. What would he gain by scaring you?”
“If Antonio did kill Wendy, blaming Orr for the drive-by raises a whole lot of reasonable doubt,” she pointed out.
“Come on, Mel. Your own detectives cleared the man when the crime was fresh last summer.”
“I know.” She swiveled her chair from side to side. “See why you’re here?”
“Yes, I think I do.” Now his expression turned sly. “You like him,” he accused.
“You sound like a twelve-year-old.”
Clarke grinned. “And there’s the confirmation,” he crowed.
“Exasperation isn’t at all the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” He held up his hands in surrender. “Before you toss me out on my ear, let me say this.” He stood up, bagging the trash. “My take is, Orr called to provoke Ruiz and mess with his head. A solid revenge strategy. Yes, Antonio has voiced disappointment for your department recently, but he isn’t sowing discord outright. He could’ve let us flounder in the search for Danny, but he didn’t.”
“True,” she allowed.
He sank back into the chair. “What’s really going on with you and Ruiz?”
“Nothing,” she assured him. “The Emerson and Paxton cases just leaped out and tossed him into my path.”
Clarke smiled, clearly not convinced that was the whole story. One of the detriments of having a private investigator for a brother. “Good thing from this side of the desk,” he said. “I owe him a big thank-you for saving my sister from a random bullet. He did the right thing when it mattered. That puts me on his side until something real proves me wrong.”
“All right. Thanks.” She dropped her pen to the pad. “That gives me a lot to think about.”
“You’ve always had good instincts, Mel,” Clarke said. “Don’t undermine yourself or your officers.”
“Easy for you to say. I have two cases getting picked apart by vultures.”
“From what I saw in Everleigh’s case, those discrepancies were in the evidence, not the police work itself.”
It was a nice affirmation. Now she just had to find a way to determine if the cause was simple human error or if she had a bigger problem. “Thanks for the insight.” She stood to give her brother a goodbye hug.
“When you talk to him, ask your questions and then listen to the answers,” he suggested, giving her a shoulders a warm squeeze.
“I promise.”
Her brother’s words hovered in the back of her mind while she continued working, her door open again for anyone who might need to check in. She’d invested in herself and her career from the moment she’d applied to the police academy. The road hadn’t been easy, especially as a woman. The digs that bordered on mean, the sexist remarks and the assumptions that her heart was too soft or her body too weak for the job hadn’t been easy to overcome.
But she’d done it. Her eye had always remained on the goal of helping her community. That coud be one person at a time or as a whole; she’d always wanted to make a positive difference in the city she loved. It didn’t always work out in a courtroom, but until recently, she’d been confident in the police work.
The prosecutors and defense attorneys could theorize all they wanted in front of a jury on a case like Paxton or Emerson. Evidence separated one person’s account from another, illuminated the situation and led investigators to the right perpetrator. It was interpretation that was fallible.
Knowing the implications and dreading the fallout of making an announcement, she had to accept that the evidence had been mishandled in those two cases. Whether it was done purposely or not would raise more questions, create more problems. Either way, she would be held accountable. She needed to get Internal Affairs involved. The most important thing was cleaning this up for the victims and families involved as well as the department.
One step at a time. She left her office and asked the dispatcher to send a unit to cycle through the area near the hotel. The only instructions were to look for the black car that matched the de
scription from the drive-by shooting. She didn’t give Orr’s description. Not yet.
Picking up the phone, she finally called Antonio. This wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have over the phone. The man had been right to be frustrated with her department.
He picked up on the first ring, as if he’d been waiting on her call. “Well, did the recording help at all?”
She stifled a sigh. “It possibly shed some light on motive,” she allowed. “Before I say anything more, the conversation we are about to have is not official.”
“I understand,” he said too quickly.
“Drew Orr clearly wants to get under your skin,” she said. “It seems like he also anticipated that you’d record the call and hoped to make reporting it a challenge for you.”
“That was my thought, too.”
She didn’t bother to ask about whether Antonio had had any interest in Wendy. It just didn’t serve any purpose. Her officers had cleared that potential minefield last summer—Antonio told the cops Orr blamed Wendy for cheating, but denied any involvement with his former associate’s girlfriend. And the investigation supported his claims, finding no instances of Antonio and Wendy ever communicating or being together outside of Orr’s presence. “Based on the drive-by, the fire, the text messages and now this call, it’s obvious that we missed something in the Paxton case. I’m sorry we didn’t bring Orr in successfully.”
“Melissa—”
“The family will get a public apology later. I hope to reach out when we have her killer in custody.”
“Did you find something new?”
This was the tricky part. “Not yet, but we’re working on it.”
“I figured as much.” He swore softly. “What are you going to do?”
“We’ll keep working the drive-by, the fire.” She wanted to swear now, too, because of how thin the evidence had become in both cases. “It will take some time.” And she would be hands-on, working with her team until this was resolved. She would be the active leader her department needed.
“You may not have time. He’s not happy with me, but you are the bigger threat to him.”
The urgency in his voice rattled her. “Antonio, please trust me.”
“You can’t stick with routine,” he insisted. “A woman living alone is an easy target.”
She bristled at the incorrect observation. “I’m not weak and I know how to take care of myself.”
“No one said you were weak.” His voice cracked. “He shot at you. Us. He set my house on fire.” Another muttered oath. “Please move into the hotel. Everyone needs someone to watch their back on occasion.”
Melissa felt how her body and mind were at odds when it came to Antonio. The idea of tucking herself safely away from danger went counter to her nature. Her role was to lead by example, to protect and serve. She couldn’t do that from his hotel, no matter how her skin warmed when she was near him. That simmer of undeniable attraction wouldn’t help her drop a net over Orr and bring justice to the Paxton family.
“It’s a generous offer,” she began.
“Do you want me to meet you at your house to help pack your things?”
“What? No. I can pack by myself.”
“Good. What time should we expect you? The front desk will have instructions, of course, but it’s best to give the kitchen a heads-up.”
He was steamrolling her. “Antonio, stop. I didn’t say yes.” She understood his inherent need to step in and protect, but he had to respect her boundaries and the demands of her job.
“In fact, my answer is no, thank you.” The silence went on so long, she thought the call had dropped. “Please, don’t worry about me.”
It seemed she was always saying those words. First to her parents and brothers, later to boyfriends who lasted more than a few dates.
“I’m frustrated,” he said. “And, yes, worried.”
She wished she’d closed the door. “Because I’m a woman?” she asked under her breath.
“In part, yes.”
The admission was so unexpected she stared at her phone, incredulous until she heard him speaking. “...because you are a woman I care for. Who is important,” he said. “To the community.”
She should be mad, but she wanted to understand why he kept saying things like that. More that she wanted to dig a little deeper into the man she found so captivating. What would he be like on a normal date? Did he need galas and paparazzi or did he enjoy simpler things?
“Melissa?”
She yanked herself away from an unwise and impossible fantasy of getting involved with a man like Antonio. “Yes. I’m here. I appreciate the kind words.”
“Kind words? I asked you to have dinner with me.”
“Oh. Pardon me. I, was, um, distracted by a message.” She couldn’t go to dinner with him. Not out where they’d be seen publicly. People would start to speculate and that could blow back unfavorably on the night he’d helped them search for Danny. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” he replied, wary.
“Then let me cook for you tonight. At my place. There’s a security system just like at your hotel.”
“Hardly the same.”
She refused to be offended. Especially not when she caught what might be amusement in his tone. “And armed police stationed outside the house.”
“I can add another security team at any time. In fact, I already have.”
That sharpened her focus. “You have?”
“Yes.” That lone syllable was packed with intensity. “They’ll be on-site within an hour.”
“You really should clear that kind of thing with me.”
“Why? The hotel is private property. I’m telling you now, Melissa. Orr’s call emphasized to me that there’s one primary way in and out of the hotel. There are service entrances, but that singular intersection is a prime place for him to lie in wait for us. So I would ask you to come via the back entrance.”
“That’s why you didn’t want me to come to you,” she said as the revelation clicked for her. “I sent out a patrol car to keep an eye on the area.”
“I noticed. They’ve been by twice already,” he said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What will it take for you to see reason and move into the hotel until the search for Orr is done? You know I can create a command center for you.”
She could hardly admit she was afraid her resolve would fail her if they were in the same building all day long. “Why don’t we discuss it over dinner at my place?” she asked.
“Why not cook for me here at the hotel?” he countered. “The suite has a full kitchen, or you can choose one of the catering kitchens.”
“Not the same,” she replied, hearing the flirtatious tone. “Come by—” Her buzzing intercom interrupted her. “One second.”
She cringed, grateful he couldn’t see her as she set aside the phone and answered the summons. Hopefully they’d found Orr’s car.
“Chief Colton, the patrol team at your house has a situation.” The rookie on the front desk filling in for Mary sounded nervous.
Remembering her own days as a rookie, she smiled. “Go on.”
“On the last perimeter walk of your house a photo was found on your side door, but the officers didn’t see anyone suspicious in the vicinity.”
The smile and fond nostalgia vanished at the dangerous implications. Someone would have had to cut through the backyards to reach that door unseen. “I’m on the way.”
“Um, no, ma’am. I—I mean, they asked me to tell you to stay here at the station. Please.”
Not a chance. She looked at her cell phone. Antonio was still on the line. “I’ll call you back,” she said and then ended the call.
Shrugging into her coat, she grabbed her keys and pocketed her cell phone. She would not allow Orr to have
his way in her city.
* * *
Having something to look forward to this evening didn’t erase the worry over how she’d ended that call. Something was wrong and Antonio knew he’d only caught a snippet. Had Orr made another threat already? The little he’d heard indicated Melissa was taking precautions. He wished she would just give in already and agree to move into the hotel.
In her shoes, he supposed he would be offended if a civilian thought they could do better. He would have to keep that in mind when they talked at dinner.
He had to find a way to illustrate that the hotel was safer due to the additional personnel. Her department couldn’t devote as many people to her security because they had a broader mission of maintaining the peace. Antonio struggled to believe that would be sufficient against Orr’s threats.
Control issues were the root of his worry for her, but understanding that was only half the battle. Maybe less. He’d been unable to help his wife and baby. He couldn’t see a way to steer Orr off this violent course. And, apparently, he had no influence over Melissa, either. It was humbling and awful and completely unacceptable.
And yet he eagerly anticipated their next meeting.
She was making him dinner. With a different woman, he might consider it an overture. With Melissa, he felt she was merely trying to prove a point. There had been interest in her voice, almost a teasing tone when she refused his offer to cook in the hotel. It had sparked a warmth under his skin he should resist. With so much chaos and danger swirling around them, this was the worst time to be thinking of Melissa in a personal way. Her focus should be on the needs of the community, not him. And yet, he didn’t just want her attention; he also wanted to help, to be her safe haven when things were difficult. Dangerous territory.
As the patrol car she’d sent out cruised by again, he wondered what had drawn her away from the station in such a hurry. He called her, but the call went to voice mail. Picking up the house phone, he called his security office.
“Hotel security, Charles speaking.”
