by Ann Roberts
The click of his boot heels resonated throughout the garage. The Buick was parked in a back corner. Always a cautious man, he deactivated the alarm and watched the overhead light come on. From what he could see there was no one else in the vehicle. He glanced over his shoulder before he got into the car.
He drove five feet and felt the car lurch. Something was wrong. He killed the engine and hopped out, walking the perimeter. He found the cause of his problem, a buck knife lodged between the treads of his back left tire. He shook his head. When he stood up, Sol Gardener faced him, a .38 special in his hand, a gun that Jack imagined probably belonged in the evidence room downtown.
“We’re not gonna play any games here, are we Jack?” Sol asked. “Why don’t you reach slowly into your jacket and give me your weapon.”
He frowned and shook his head. His disappointment and hurt were evident. He couldn’t meet Sol’s gaze as he kicked his revolver toward him.
“How’d you find out?” Sol asked, picking up Jack’s gun and sticking it into the back of his pants.
“Is it really important?”
“I suppose not, and I don’t think you’d tell me anyway. For the record this is eating me up, the fact that you know. The fact that your opinion of me has changed—”
“Significantly,” Jack whispered.
“Yeah, well, not all of us could be Big Jack Adams,” he growled. “Not all of us were as smart or good looking or smooth.”
He looked up and realized Sol had tears in his eyes, his gun hand unsteady.
“What are you talking about, Sol? You were with me every step of the way in the academy. We kept each other going. It was a competition, but you were my equal.”
Sol snorted. “That was a million years ago. Judging from this moment, I’d say we’re at very different places.”
Although he could probably guess, he had to ask the question. He had to hear the explanation from Sol. He folded his arms and leaned against the car. “I’ve got as long as you do, Sol. What the hell happened?”
“What didn’t happen? Don’t you remember the string of bad luck I had the first few years after the academy? I got stuck with that worthless partner and then Nancy got pregnant with Sol, Jr. She always said it was an accident, but I wasn’t so sure. She wanted kids a lot sooner than I did. Then there were the complications in her pregnancy, and her mom got sick.”
Snippets of memories tugged at Jack’s mind, pieces of conversations over morning coffee or after roll call that he’d only paid courteous attention to. He’d never probed, never asked—and he’d certainly never suspected. But he could understand why a rookie might need extra cash.
“So it started all those years ago?”
Sol shrugged. Jack could see beads of sweat covering the top of his head.
“At first it was nickel and dime. Just a little shakedown. The big time stuff didn’t come until later.”
“You mean with Vince Carnotti.”
“Yeah, he didn’t know me in the beginning. I paid my dues. Eventually I got more responsibilities.”
The air of pride in his voice disgusted Jack. He knew what more responsibilities meant to the mob, and he knew how well it paid. He read about corruption every day, but it seemed to happen in distant places, cities like Detroit or Chicago. The fact that Sol worked shoulder to shoulder with a mobster shocked him.
“How?” he thought to ask. “How could you get away with it for all of these years? You became the chief, for chrissakes! You closed more cases than anyone else.”
Sol shrugged. “And did you ever think that was a little suspicious? Did you ever wonder how I juggled two or three big investigations at the same time? I had a little help. Sometimes evidence would just appear or a witness conveniently disappeared. How do you think I got to be chief? Did you ever wonder why it was me and not you?”
An odd sound pushed through his chest, and he realized before he could stop it that he was laughing. When he could finally control himself, he said, “I’m sorry. That isn’t funny, but if you think I’m going to feel sorry for you, you’re crazy. You’re a disservice to every man or woman who’s worn the badge. I’m ashamed to have called you chief. You think you’re the only one who was ever tempted? Try having your little boy murdered in a convenience store, a wife sick with cancer and a daughter you nearly drive to suicide. I’d never trade my family for yours, Sol, but I’d have gladly traded problems—and I would’ve told the mob to shove it.”
Sol’s jaw set and his features darkened. His grip on the gun seemed to tighten, his hand grew steady. “Like I said, we can’t all be the great Big Jack Adams.”
“You never had to be me.”
“Shut up Jack—”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me? Isn’t that the plan, Sol? Isn’t that why you’re here? When did you make me?”
Sol chuckled. “Second day. My guy at the house spooks easily. He’s always moving through the rooms, peeking through the curtains. He calls me and tells me he’s seen the same Buick parked in different spots. I came by so you could take my picture, and we could move this whole thing along.”
Jack nodded. “So I guess we won’t be retiring together in Oregon.”
“No,” Sol replied and Jack heard sadness in his voice. “Duffek Turn was never meant to be. I’ve got a place in the Caymans.”
Jack looked around the garage, remote and still. “So how is this going down? Robbery gone bad? Carjacking?”
Sol nodded slowly. “First guess. The knife that’s embedded in your tire is covered in the fingerprints of a known felon, one with a history of drug, robbery and assault charges. This crime against you will inevitably send him to prison for the rest of his life.”
“Ah, a two-for-one. You save your hide and perform a civic duty in the process by removing one more scourge on society.” He paused before adding, “I don’t think anything can make up for what you did to Molly Nelson.”
Sol frowned, and Jack knew he’d hit a nerve. “Nelson was a good cop. She should’ve left that informant’s death alone. He was a total loser.”
“And have you thought about how heartbroken Ari’s going to be? She’s lost her girlfriend and now her father?”
He sighed and scratched his head. “No chance you’d just let all this go and come with me? I don’t think—”
A sudden crack pierced the silence, and Sol’s gun clattered onto the concrete. A fountain of blood spewed from his arm. He stared in horror at the arch of red while Jack immediately kicked the gun away. Shock turned to pain, and he cried out.
“You damn son of a bitch!”
Molly’s voice boomed throughout the cavernous garage as she emerged from her hiding spot behind a green Honda thirty feet away. At the sight of her, Sol started to back away, holding his injured hand. She waved the pistol, but the hatred in her eyes was deadly.
“Did you forget I was the best shot on the range? Maybe if you’d remembered that, you wouldn’t have set me up.”
“Molly, put the gun down,” Jack said calmly. “Did you call the police?”
“No time. Everything happened so fast here I haven’t had a chance.” She peered at Sol’s bleeding arm and feigned shock. “Oh, that looks bad. I may have hit an artery. You could use an ambulance, Chief.”
There was no mistaking the mocking tone in her voice. Jack knew he was losing control of the situation. Molly was supposed to have called the police and nothing else. She was entirely off script and didn’t seem to care that Sol could die.
“Molly, please give me the gun.”
She stepped away from the men, the gun still pointed at Sol Gardener. “Can’t do that, Jack. This is between the Chief and me. You’re just an innocent retiree who got in the middle of this. I’m the one who’s lost everything. The best thing you could do is jump in your rental and drive away.”
“Uh-huh, Nelson.”
Sol groaned in pain. “Nelson, if you’re gonna take me out then just do it.”
Molly wiped a tear from her cheek. “Th
at’s exactly what I should do. What have I got left? You took it all from me, Chief.”
“It was business. Just business. I think you’re a straight-up cop. One of the best detectives I’ve ever seen. I’m sorry this happened to you.”
Before Jack could process the meaning of his last words, Sol pulled Jack’s gun from behind his back and fired at Molly. Three slugs hit Sol in the chest, but he managed to discharge a single round into her left thigh. She went down, and Jack rushed to her.
“Shit!” Molly hissed. “It’s not a big deal. Go check on him.” She motioned toward Sol, the unmistakable gurgling sounds of death coming from his throat.
Sirens echoed in the distance, but Jack doubted any paramedic could save Sol. He leaned over him, his eyes cloudy. He’d deliberately drawn on Molly, knowing that she would instinctively fire. It was better to die than face prison. He grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him closer.
“Ari. Help Ari,” he whispered.
“Ari’s fine, Sol. Don’t worry about her.”
“No, she’s not. There’s someone… She’ll need you…”
His lifeless body sunk back against the concrete. Jack bit his lip. Sol Gardener spent his last breath for his godchild Ari—not his wife, not his own children. It was a warning. He’s concerned for Ari. Why?
The flashing lights of an ambulance pierced the black night and the wailing sirens were deafening. Molly remained stoic against the pain as the emergency crews attended to her. Jack brought the first on-the-scene patrol officers up to speed before he returned to Molly who had several EMT’s swarming around her.
“Thanks for your help, Nelson. You doin’ okay?”
“Great,” she said through clenched teeth. “What did Sol say there at the end?”
“The usual. He was sorry for what he’d done, and he wanted me to apologize to his wife and kids for everything.”
Molly shook her head, oblivious to his lie. “I still can’t believe it.”
They moved her onto a stretcher and wheeled her to an ambulance. Jack noticed two local news trucks pulling up to the garage. This was going to be big news. He and Molly would inevitably spend days talking to Internal Affairs and the county prosecutors. He imagined that some local talking head looking for a job at a national network would eventually dig deep enough to learn about Molly’s DUI and her subsequent resignation. And probably her alcoholism, too.
As the ambulance drove away, he shook his head. Her entire life was about to be exposed and he doubted she would ever be the same.
“Um, excuse me, are you Big Jack Adams?”
He turned to face a cherubic young face with bright eyes.
“Yup, that’s me,” he answered.
The rookie glanced at his partner, who shuffled his feet and appeared to be equally green. “Uh, well, the plainclothes guys aren’t here yet and we’re not sure what to do.”
Jack cracked a grin. “What’s your name, son?”
“McCoy, sir. Sean McCoy.”
“Well, McCoy, first, we need to secure the crime scene. Why don’t you boys go get your notebooks?”
They scurried off to the patrol car while Jack took a deep breath. Sol’s last words. She’ll need you.
He shook his head. “So much for retirement.”
Publications from Bella Books, Inc.
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Table of Contents
Copyright
Also by Ann Roberts
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
