The Witness (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Style, Linda

  Bitter memories lay rock-hard in Crista’s gut. She’d been a patrol officer for five years and, for half that time, she’d been assigned some of the worst shifts and some of the worst beats. She’d taken the bad with the good and never complained. She got the job done. Eventually, she’d been accepted by her team, and while she hadn’t become “one of the guys,” she’d believed her teammates respected her.

  But when she’d stood up for Risa at the beginning of the investigation, all their so-called respect vanished like snow on a summer sidewalk. Her faith in the “system” had been shaken to the core.

  Crista had understood that Catherine might still be reeling from her husband’s death six months ago, and the promotion to chief of police put her at a disadvantage when it came to offering support for her friends. Cathy couldn’t do anything that might give the appearance of favoritism. But in Risa’s case, Crista believed their new chief had gone too far in the opposite direction. The IA investigation seemed more intensive than any other cop would’ve received, and Catherine hadn’t won any points with Crista on that one.

  The only member of the group who’d remained somewhat neutral was Abby. But even she had backed away. Maybe it was because Abby was on her second chance with the department already. She’d left the academy for love and moved to North Carolina with the Delta Force officer she’d fallen for. When the relationship failed, Abby returned to Houston and finished her academy training in a different class, determined to show her friends that she could stick it out this time.

  No, Abby wasn’t the person to call. Abby still viewed the world through rose-colored glasses, and any advice she might give would reflect her innate belief that people were good at heart. While Crista held that belief most of the time, she was also realistic. There were mean people out there. People out for their own gain.

  With question after question playing havoc in her head, Crista decided to get up and go to the gym. In the back of her mind, she hoped she’d run into Mei. They’d always been able to talk about most anything.

  The decision energized Crista and she bounded from the bed, threw on her sweats and, for later, took along a rust-colored pantsuit and a soft white turtleneck sweater. According to the weather channel last night, a cold front had come in and the temp was going down to freezing. She grabbed her black leather coat, but on her way through the living room the scent of motor oil made her stop. Calvin. What was she going to do with Calvin? Despite having the locks changed, she didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone.

  Quickly she went to the next apartment and knocked on Mrs. McGinty’s door. The elderly woman occasionally looked in on Calvin when Crista had to be gone for a day or two.

  “Crista, how nice to see you,” the woman’s crackly voice echoed in the hall. A grandmotherly type, she was a little hard of hearing and she tended to speak louder because of it.

  “Hi, Mrs. McGinty. I have a big favor to ask. Can you peek in on Calvin from time to time during the day? He’s not feeling that great and I want to make sure he’s okay.”

  “Of course. I’d love to,” the woman said. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you bring Calvin here? He can keep me company.”

  Perfect. Crista went back to her apartment, placed Calvin in the smaller cage and carried him to Mrs. McGinty’s. She gave the older woman her cell phone number in case anything came up.

  When Crista pulled into the Shao-Lin Studio’s parking lot fifteen minutes later and saw Mei’s car, she felt a mixture of relief and apprehension. She parked in front and dashed in, hoping Mei would have time to talk, even if it was only for a few minutes.

  Mei was working with one of the instructors. The length of a match usually depended on the routine, so Crista engaged one of the other instructors in a shorter match so she’d be finished about the time Mei was.

  While Crista stretched to ready herself, she saw Mei move into position. One quick strike from her opponent put Mei on the defensive. Always strike first, Mei. Apparently she’d forgotten the mantra Crista had taught her: Be First, Be Fast, Be Ferocious.

  Even so, Mei came back quickly, using the linear style of straight-on movements. Attack, head-on block, in and out. Mei had improved since they’d last worked out together, and Crista was impressed.

  Wing Chun was based on a clear understanding of fighting concepts and strategies expressed through a minimal number of techniques. Simplicity, directness and efficiency were key. When Crista was ready, she positioned on the mat and went directly on the offensive, mixing circular blocks with her linear attacks. When finished, she bowed to her instructor and in her peripheral vision, saw Mei and her instructor were also done. Perfect timing.

  Mei looked up, saw Crista and a wide smile formed on her expressive face. She immediately came over. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Crista answered.

  “I was going to call you to ask if you wanted to work out some time, but now that you’re here, I can ask in person.”

  “Sure. Anytime,” Crista said, the warmth of their old friendship rushing back, almost as if it had never been interrupted. As they walked to the locker room together, Mei said, “How about if I call you after the holidays?”

  Crista knew Mei usually worked extra hours over the holidays so other people could have the time off. “Great. I’ll look forward to it.”

  They both showered and then sat on a bench, towel drying their hair together, just as they’d done in the past. “I heard you’re being considered for lieutenant,” Crista said. “People are saying good things about you.”

  Mei glanced away. She’d never handled compliments well and always downplayed her own skills and expertise.

  “If I’m lucky, it might happen,” Mei said.

  “Right. Only you’re forgetting something. I know how hard you worked to get where you are, so you can’t play coy with me. Luck has nothing to do with it.” They laughed together at Crista’s observation.

  “How is the new job going for you?” Mei asked. “I was surprised to hear about your transfer to the Chicano Squad. I thought your dream was to work in Special Ops, but I guess you changed your mind.”

  Crista shook her head. “No, I didn’t. But it’s a long story. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t my choice.”

  Mei put down her towel and looked at Crista. “What’s going on?”

  They’d been close for too long and even the break in their relationship hadn’t changed the intuitiveness they felt with each other. “I wish I knew,” Crista said.

  “Then what do you think is going on?” Mei refused to let Crista off the hook.

  “Too many things,” Crista said on a sigh. “I’ve been assigned a high-profile case and the captain is on my back about getting it done ASAP. The evidence is minimal and I’m sure the victims, a man and his daughter, are in danger. And as much as I want to, I can’t do anything about it except stay close to them.”

  One of Mei’s thin, dark eyebrows arched knowingly. “Sounds like personal involvement to me.”

  Crista closed her eyes and nodded. “I’m afraid so.” She knew what Mei’s response would be to that. For Mei, the job was primary. Crista had the same philosophy, so there was no point even getting into a discussion.

  Mei’s gaze narrowed. “So what else? I’ve never known you to be easily shaken, especially over a case, no matter how tough it is.”

  Crista pressed her lips together, finding it unusually hard to say the words. She’d never been one to complain. Never took the easy way out. But this was so different. And her job was on the line because of it. “Discrimination. Gender bias.”

  There was no surprise in Mei’s eyes.

  “I know. I know. We’ve all had to deal with lots of things because we’re women in a guy’s world. I expected that. But this is…different. Very different.”

  As they dressed, Crista explained in detail everything that had happened with Captain Englend. “From the beginning, I never expected the job to be a cake-walk, but I truly thought once I proved myself, things would chan
ge. Only I haven’t been able to do anything in this unit, and now the one opportunity I’ve been given looks like a setup.”

  Mei shook her head. “I’ve faced problems with discrimination from individuals, but nothing that blatant.”

  “In my position, what would you do?”

  Crista’s friend thought for a moment. “You’ve always made a decision, then went ahead full-steam. On something like this, I might think about it before I leaped.”

  A feeling of hopelessness was growing inside Crista. “You’re right. I want to take a stand so bad I can taste it, but I know from experience what that means. Basically, I’m damned if I do—” she managed a sarcastic laugh “—and hell, I’m damned if I don’t.”

  “Call Catherine,” Mei said. “She’s always been someone we could count on for good advice.”

  “I thought about that. But with the media stirring up all kinds of dirt about the department, she has enough to worry about. My situation is nothing compared to what she has to deal with on an hourly basis.”

  Nodding, Mei agreed. “But on the other hand, she might welcome a friendly voice right now, and it would give her someone else’s problem to focus on.” Mei waited a second, then added, “Besides, it’s her job to give advice.”

  Crista smiled. Even if Mei didn’t have the answer, it felt good to get another opinion. And beyond that, it felt good to talk to Mei again.

  Despite her despair about the job, Crista saw a ray of hope—hope that one day they could restore their friendship. “You’re right, of course. I will call Catherine.”

  ON HER WAY to headquarters, Crista phoned Mrs. McGinty to make sure Calvin was okay. After that, her goal was to get to the station, check in and check out—avoid Englend so he couldn’t take her off the case. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving and her schedule gave her the rest of the weekend off.

  Apparently others had time off, too, because the place was almost empty when she arrived. Englend wasn’t even there.

  She picked up the phone and connected with Laura. “Where is everyone?”

  “We had an 11-99 a half hour ago. Didn’t you hear it?”

  Officer needs help. “No. No, I didn’t. Who was it?”

  “The call-out went so fast, I didn’t hear.”

  And neither had she. Crista set the phone down and immediately checked her mike. It was on. If there was a call-out, she should have heard it, no matter where she was. She closed her eyes. Nausea assailed her. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

  Inhaling deeply, she fished her cell phone from a pocket and punched in Catherine’s number.

  “Detective Santiago to speak with Chief Tanner, please.”

  “I’m sorry, she’s unavailable. Can I take a message?”

  “Please ask her to call me as soon as she can on my cell phone.” She gave the assistant the number.

  “I’ll tell her. But she’s really busy.”

  Yeah, Crista knew that. “Please give her the message.” She clicked off and pocketed her phone. Okay. What now? She quickly gathered the information she needed to work in the field, but she couldn’t shake the sickening feeling she had over not having heard the dispatch on the call-out. She knew what it meant. It was a not-so-subtle way of showing an officer she didn’t belong. And if the call was important enough for the captain to go out, he wasn’t going to be happy she didn’t show.

  What she didn’t know was who was behind it. Someone wanted her on the captain’s blacklist. Someone who knew she was on thready ground as it was—and this could be the clincher for the captain.

  Just as she was packing up, Crista’s cell phone rang. “Santiago here.”

  “Crista, it’s Catherine.”

  “Thanks for returning my call.” Now that the chief had called back, Crista felt a little funny about saying anything. She hoisted the briefcase strap over her shoulder and headed for the parking garage, talking as she went. “I know you’re terribly busy, maybe I should call back some other time.”

  “I have time right now. What’s up?”

  Crista bit her lip. “I need some advice. That’s all.”

  “As the chief or as a friend?”

  “Both.”

  “You got it.”

  Crista climbed into the Jeep so she could talk more comfortably. Within moments, she’d told Catherine everything she’d told Mei, leaving out her feelings for Alex, whatever those were.

  When Crista finished, she asked Catherine, “Any thoughts?”

  “It’s a tough call. You know what to expect if you file a grievance. Are you ready to take the heat?”

  Crista sighed. “I honestly don’t know. But I do know I can’t ignore it, either. It’s gone too far.”

  “Do you have proof? I know the captain doesn’t like change, but he always seemed a fair man to me.”

  “He wants to bring Eddie Fontanero in on the case.”

  There was a long pause on Catherine’s end. Fontanero’s reputation must’ve reached upper management. But Crista knew the chief would keep her feelings about Fontanero to herself.

  “It’s Englend’s job to get things done the best way he can. I don’t see bringing in another officer as gender bias.”

  Catherine played the devil’s advocate well. Just talking to her told Crista what she’d be up against if she filed a grievance. She didn’t have any actual proof that Englend was planning to get rid of her because he didn’t want a woman on his team. She didn’t know a single person who’d testify on her behalf. Pete, maybe, but she wasn’t going to have him put his job on the line for her, either.

  “Think hard about it, Crista. Once you file a grievance, there’s no going back.”

  Crista knew the drill. You don’t rat on fellow officers and you don’t complain. You never admit weakness in yourself or in other cops. File a grievance and you’re headed for a paperwork job in the basement.

  “It could mean giving up your career—or your career as you’ve planned it.”

  Hell, what she was doing now wasn’t what she’d planned, either. “What do you suggest?”

  “If it were me, I’d work with it. Keep proving I can do the job. But I’d document everything. If things didn’t change, and I had documentation to prove my case, I’d do what I felt necessary. But that’s me. Only you can decide what’s best for you.” She cleared her throat. “Just remember, there’s no turning back. Once you make that decision you’re committed. You have to follow through. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”

  Crista knew Cathy was talking about the media frenzy and rumors of corruption on her watch. But the chief forged ahead, doing her job as it should be done. Crista realized then that she shouldn’t have called. The chief had enough to deal with and Crista’s problems were insignificant in comparison. “Can I do something to help?”

  “I wish. But I’m afraid any support from my friends might do more harm than good. I can handle it.”

  “Well, thanks for the advice. Just talking about it has given me a different perspective.”

  They closed the conversation on a businesslike note. But Catherine’s mention about support from her friends left Crista with a warm feeling. If Catherine could suck it up, so could she.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ALEX PARKED his SUV and headed inside the center, still wondering if he’d done the right thing by bringing Crista here yesterday. The boys had seemed to take her questions in stride. But the thing that bothered him was that he hadn’t realized Tommy’s absence coincided with the date of the shooting. Not that it meant anything, but it bothered him that he hadn’t connected the dots.

  The noise from the table saw, the hammering and the music blaring from a boom box in the corner nearly raised the roof. Alex went over to where Ramon was working. Ramon was the obvious leader in this group and the other boys looked to him for direction. Ramon stopped sawing when Alex came over.

  “How’re we doing?” Alex asked.

  “Right on schedule. Charlie’s got a couple more guys coming in to hel
p.”

  “Great. When will they be here?”

  Ramon shrugged and looked at the supervisor. Like many things in the boys’s lives, time wasn’t important.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Charlie said from a few feet away.

  “Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. I don’t want anyone working on Thanksgiving.”

  “No big deal.” Ramon shrugged again.

  “It is to me. I don’t want anyone here tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Ramon picked up another board and was about to start sawing again.

  “If you’re not already going somewhere, why don’t you come to my place tomorrow? We have a turkey so big, we can’t possibly eat it all.”

  Ramon’s eyes lit, but just briefly.

  Alex turned down the boom box and said to all the boys, “You’re all invited to my place for Thanksgiving tomorrow. One o’clock. Here’s the address.” He pulled out a business card and wrote the street number on the back.

  “I don’t know, Mr. D.,” Ramon started with an excuse, but Alex cut him off.

  “Here.” He handed him the card. “If any of you can make it, fine. If you can’t, no big deal.”

  The boy nodded.

  “I’d like to get in touch with Tommy to invite him, too. Do you know how I can reach him?”

  The blank look he got said he might as well have asked Ramon if he knew the theory of relativity. “Well, if you happen to see him, would you please tell him to get in touch?”

  “Sure, Mr. D.”

  Alex left the building feeling as if he hadn’t accomplished a thing. He wished he had some inside track on how to deal with these kids.

  Just as he was getting into the vehicle, David came outside. Alex stopped and stood at the car door. At sixteen, David was a small guy who carried his anger at the world right up front where everyone could see it. Alex knew little about any of the youths’ backgrounds and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The relationship he had with his crew started the day they came to the center. Anything that had happened before wasn’t important. Their future depended on what they did now.