Collision Control

by C. A. Szarek

  “Uh. Gotta go.” He shoved his evidence kit into Carrigan’s torso. She stood next to Neil and Cole, watching the crime tech work.

  Scrambling to grab the boxy black case, she cursed and plastered it to her chest in lieu of dropping it. “What the hell, Manning?” Carrigan snapped.

  “Yeah, what the hell, Manning?” Cole asked, his tone half-amused, half-curious as he looked up from his squat next to Neil. His partner studiously ignored the FBI agent when she turned her glare on him. “What’d ya mean you have to go?”

  Jared cleared his throat. “Family emergency.”

  Not really a lie.

  Lucas’s expression sobered. He straightened, but made sure his light’s beam was still on Neil’s task. “Everything okay?”

  “I think so. Or, it will be.”

  “Who is it? Your mom? Dad? Everything okay at FD? They have a big fire? Is your sister all right?”

  Damn, Cole Lucas knows too much about me. He didn’t need twenty questions, regardless. “I’ll call you later.”

  His partner gave a curt nod.

  Thanks for not pushing me, partner.

  Jared could feel Carrigan’s burning glare all the way to his truck, even though she hadn’t said another word.

  His hand shook when reached for the driver’s side door handle on his F-150 and he had to swallow hard—twice.

  Joe had obeyed his order. Was slumped in the back seat of Jared’s extended cab.

  His six-foot-plus older brother looked super uncomfortable. He’d donned the black hoodie Jared had stowed after a run with Cole the other morning. Joe’s head was tucked into the hood.

  Good.

  “Where we goin’?” Joe’s voice jolted Jared as he stretched the seatbelt across his chest.

  “No fucking clue.”

  His brother’s laugh filled the cab, but there was a hard edge to it. “That’s the story of my life, lately.”

  “I feel ya.”

  Silence descended, except for the chatter on the handheld police radio resting in one of the cup holders. The volume was too low to hear everything, but he recognized a voice or two.

  Jared’s heart rebounded against his ribs the whole drive down the tree-canopied road of the trailer park. He let his eyes dart back and forth, paranoia threatening to eat him alive. When they got to the main road, he spotted the marked Chevy Tahoe driven by the shift lieutenant.

  The big SUV sat in the middle lane of the main street, preparing to turn into the trailer park—signal on, waiting for traffic to move.

  Chloe Stein wasn’t running lights or sirens, and she offered a wave as they passed each other. She must want to check out the murder scene, after all.

  He had to force his arm up to return the gesture. Jared didn’t slow so she could pull up next to him to chat, either.

  Hoped she didn’t notice how he gunned it to dart through his right turn onto Anderson Boulevard, a main artery into Antioch.

  Being nervous around cop cars was new.

  So this is what being a fugitive feels like.

  Jared exercised his cussing muscle. Now that he had his brother, what exactly was he supposed to do with him?

  Knowing Joe was innocent—of murder anyway—and proving it were two different things. It wasn’t like he could waltz up to Special Agent Taylor Carrigan and declare she was wrong. Demand that she change her mind.

  It’s gonna take hard evidence.

  Problem was, so far they didn’t have shit.

  Everything except that phone call from California pointed to Joe Pompa.

  And not even Carrigan could surmise why Carter Bennett would turn on Joe.

  Shit, now that Jared could ask his brother what was going on, he couldn’t form a fucking sentence.

  Jared needed to get the hell over the shakes ravaging his body.

  One of the homes the city owned—and APD used for a safe house from time to time—lay up ahead on the left. It wasn’t the nicest place, but it was over a hundred years old. The former farmhouse was a leftover from when the area had been rural.

  The historical society was restoring it. Was supposed to be a showpiece when it was done.

  An idea bloomed and once it was locked in place Jared couldn’t shake it. Even though it would involve a little breaking and entering.

  “I know where we can go, big brother.”

  * * * *

  Seeing his little brother—the man behind the wheel of the huge pickup—rocked Joe to his core.

  Checking in with Jared on the phone every few months—most times even longer—was definitely different to see him.

  He’d missed so much. Hell, he’d missed Jared so much.

  Joe could still see that scared little boy, clinging to his hand from placement to placement. Even tears on his cheeks when Jared had been young enough to cry. Innocent, big brown eyes that had been through too much shit.

  The guy he’d become was a tall SOB. Broad and muscled, like a linebacker.

  At the trailer park, seeing the gun in his hands, as well as the dropped stance, ready for action, had jarred him, even though he knew his brother’s chosen profession.

  Jared was all cop.

  Ironic.

  The criminal and the detective. Tied by blood.

  It’s good to see you, little brother.

  I’m proud of you for making something of your life.

  God knows I didn’t.

  He’d like to say that to the man before him, but his tongue was thick, glued to the roof of his mouth. Words wouldn’t form. Joe’s emotions were all over the place.

  He’d lost his woman but found his brother.

  There was a slight tremor to Jared’s tense forearms and hands as he guided them down a main street.

  “Joe?” Jared’s voice was as deep as his own, but his name had been strained.

  “Yeah, man?”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “I did. I don’t know what the hell to say. It was never my intention—”

  “Just stay low. I have to go to the PD.”

  Alarm washed over his body, and Joe hunched his shoulders. His heartbeat kicked up. “PD. As in Police Department?”

  Was his brother going to turn his ass in?

  Nothing less than you deserve, really. Bran’s dead and it’s your fault. Moose, too.

  Joe slammed the vault door on that kind of thought and focused on what his brother was saying. He couldn’t afford crippling pain and guilt at the moment.

  “Yeah. Don’t worry. My back windows are tinted. Just stay where you are and we’ll be fine.”

  “What are you going to do?” As much as he wanted to reconnect with his little bro, if Jared admitted to wanting to turn him in, he was going to have to run.

  “I need to get a key.”

  “Key?”

  “To a safe house.”

  What the hell?

  “J-man, I can’t do this to you. You’re one of the good guys.” And I’m not. “This is illegal shit, man.”

  “I’ve been looking for you for two weeks. Chill. I got this. Besides, what’s a little breaking and entering between brothers?”

  Joe paused. Smirked, even though his brother wouldn’t be able to see him. “Is it really breaking and entering if you have a key?”

  Jared laughed. Despite the deep shit they were in, it was good to hear.

  “Point taken,” his brother said.

  “Damn, man. It’s good to see you,” he whispered.

  “It’s good to see you, too, buddy. Seriously.” Jared’s voice was low.

  Joe closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. Bran dying in his arms and Moose dying while trying to protect them both played in his head like a sick movie he couldn’t shut off, despite the vault door he’d pictured in his mind, and tried to shove them behind it. “Jared, I can’t do this to you.”

  “Joe. I know what I’m doing.”

  Right. His brother sure didn’t sound like it.

  “Fuck,” Joe whispered.

&
nbsp; “Tell me about it.”

  Silence fell again.

  The only sound was the click-click of the big truck’s directional signal as Jared continued on his tour-de-Antioch.

  Police. Station.

  Joe’s skin started crawling even before he saw the blue reflective sign with a helpful arrow. The text on the body of the metal shouted Antioch Justice Center.

  His brother turned the F-150 down the road and slowed.

  Shaking started in his arms then his legs, and shivers raced all over his body when he read the sign that announced Police Department. It only got worse when he saw the word Jail etched beneath it.

  “Just chill. Stay low. We’re going in the back, up to the sally port.”

  Could Jared read his mind?

  That didn’t make Joe feel better. Sally Port was a fancy word for Jail-Driveway-Entrance, usually.

  Joe nodded and yanked the hood forward. He slouched even lower in the kid-sized backseat. Gulped. He couldn’t help it. “At least they’d never look for me here,” he mumbled.

  “Right. I’ll be quick.” As Jared spoke, Joe heard a beeping sound and the gate-arm in front of them lifted.

  They proceeded slowly into what looked like secured parking and back entrances to the PD as well as the jail.

  “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  Joe didn’t answer his brother as Jared left the truck.

  His gut screamed at him to run and he was twitchy all over. He squeezed his eyes closed and made himself breathe normally.

  Just hurry, little brother.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jared kept his head down, hands in his pockets as he headed down the hall. Like he was doing something wrong.

  Yeah, you kinda are.

  He passed by the break room. Anyone who saw him would assume he was going to CID. The Criminal Investigation Division’s large room was right around the corner from Chief’s office.

  “Oh, hey, Detective.”

  His heart and stomach jumped simultaneously when he heard the familiar voice.

  Calm the hell down.

  But he didn’t, even when he met her brown eyes. “Hi, Jeri.” He forced a smile for one of their two female jailers.

  She must be on break, because she had a slice of pizza on a paper plate in her grip and a can of soda in the other hand.

  “How are ya?”

  “Good.” Liar. “You? Must be dinner time.”

  “I’m great, and it sure is. We have a wild one, though, so I’m going to eat at the desk.” Jeri pointed toward the hallway leading back to the Jail Employee Entrance, right next to Dispatch.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, a DWI Benton brought in. She’s a little nuts. Kept crashing her head into the bench in the cell. So, we had to put her in the restraint chair. Her blood-alcohol level was off the charts, too. She blew a point-two-four.”

  “Shit. And she’s conscious?”

  Jeri laughed. “Was when I left. She’ll be fine when she detoxes. You’re here late.”

  “Yeah, gotta grab something.”

  So, not a lie, but still…

  “Take it easy, Detective.”

  “You too.” Jared took a breath and continued down the hall.

  How on God’s green earth was he going to do this?

  Police department…cameras everywhere.

  Nikki never locked the outer office door to her and Chief’s executive suite, but he needed a plausible reason for going in there. There were no cameras inside the two adjoined rooms—the only space in the PD besides bathrooms and locker rooms there weren’t any.

  Jared headed to CID, like he was going to his desk.

  Like normal.

  He flipped the lights on. Paced in front of his cubicle, thanking God—yet again—that no one was working late.

  A pink sticky note was plastered to his monitor.

  Self-eval for Chief, written by his own hand. He’d been ignoring the reminder since he’d jotted it the other day.

  Annual performance reviews were in a few weeks. The city’s Human Resources Department had decided in their infinite—stupid—wisdom to change procedures this year and were making everyone form goals and outline them, along with the regular ‘How am I doing?’ kinda thing.

  It was so ridiculous. And Jared’s was late—by like a week.

  “Yes!” Now he had an excuse to go into the office, but he’d have to do the asinine paperwork. Be quick about it, too, or he risked freaking out his waiting brother even more.

  Impatience didn’t serve him well—he pounded on the keyboard to wake the computer up, clicked the mouse a hundred times when the doc didn’t open right away then made his fingers fly over the keyboard.

  “Hope the boss doesn’t mind typos.”

  Jared stared at the first thing he had to answer on the form—Please summarize your professional goals for the upcoming review period. He smirked at himself, typed ‘Catch more bad guys than anyone else’ then backspaced it. He didn’t want to piss the chief off. Nor did he want to have to fill out this damn thing more than once. He answered all the questions as quickly as he could, forming credible goals that would keep his boss off his back.

  “Finally done. God that was painful.”

  Jared looked over all his answers and clicked save. He tapped his boot on the thin industrial carpet when the printer didn’t respond right way. Restrained himself from hitting print again.

  When the stupid thing was finally in his hand, he forced a breath and squared his shoulders.

  “Act normal. Calm the fuck down.” His heart wasn’t obeying the command, but he turned on his heel and headed out of the room.

  His hand shook when he turned the knob into Nikki’s office. He flipped on the light and slipped inside, pulling the door shut. Stared at the closed entrance to his boss’s office and fought the shakes threatening his body.

  He was about to add theft to harboring a federal fugitive.

  Jared swallowed and dropped his evaluation on Nikki’s desk. Grabbed a sticky note from her pad and scrawled—

  Chief, sorry this is late. –JM

  He added his badge number, two-thirty-two, as an afterthought.

  The box of keys was in the drawer on the bottom right side of Nikki’s desk. He’d watched her dig into it dozens of times.

  Jared clenched his jaw and reached for the handle. The drawer slid open and he peered down at the gunmetal-gray lock box.

  Please don’t be locked.

  It wasn’t.

  He scowled at himself instead of breathing a sigh of relief. Jared was still doing something wrong. Crushing his eyes shut, he forced himself to ignore the guilt creeping up his gut and reached for the box.

  Opened it.

  Nikki was pretty organized, so Jared grabbed the set of keys with a plastic tag labeled ‘427 Montgomery Street’.

  The folded white paper—the key log—glared at him from the plastic sleeve on the backside of the door. The date the keys were checked out, the reason, and the officer who took them were supposed to be recorded on that form.

  “God, I hope she doesn’t check this daily or anything.”

  She might.

  Keys to police cars were housed in the box, too.

  If someone had to switch out their assigned cruiser for any reason in the morning, would Nikki notice?

  Did she inventory the keys?

  Jared’s pulse thundered in his ears and breath rushed from his lungs. He tucked the safe house key in his pocket and tried not to slam the drawer shut.

  Although, if he smashed his fingers, it was no less than he deserved.

  It took all he was made of not to lean on the door once he was on the other side of it.

  His text message alert sounded and Jared jumped even before he could sneak out the back door. He swore and dug his cell out of his jeans.

  Scene secure. Heading home. Will start report. Everything okay with fam? Lemme know.

  He screamed at himself to stand still and answ
er his partner’s message.

  S’all good.

  Okay. Won’t push. Meet me at the track in the a.m.?

  Cole returned quickly.

  Yeah. Thx.

  Jared could use a good run—or five.

  * * * *

  “Friends First? Are you crazy?” Val peered over Mel’s shoulder, her blue gaze intent on the screen of Mel’s laptop. She had a beer in her hand and set the other one down on the desk for Mel.

  They were planning to watch a movie. Popcorn already sat on the coffee table.

  “Why not? It’ll be fun.” Mel’s voice was tight and Val’s expression told her that her best friend had caught it.

  Great. She can tell I can’t even convince myself this is a good idea.

  Fun? Right. Like swimming in shark-infested waters.

  “A dating service? You have finally lost it, Melody Nash.”

  “Hey, I didn’t invite you over for dinner and a movie tonight for ridicule!”

  “Well, I’m spending my Friday night with you.”

  “We always do Friday movie night!”

  Val smiled at Mel’s protest. “When I don’t have a date.”

  She smirked. “Well, you’re wrong.”

  “What?”

  “Friends First is not a dating service.” Mel pointed to the flashing banner on the website. “It’s an activities club. For singles.” After forcing a smile, she grabbed the frosty bottle and took a swig, but she could still feel Val’s stare.

  “You’re not single.”

  Mel frowned. “I am so.”

  Val’s blonde curls jumped with her head shake. “Only because you won’t go out with Hot Cop.”

  “God.” She scowled. “First off all, stop calling him that. Secondly, stay out of my business.” She ignored the jump of her stomach that had nothing to do with the tiny bit of alcohol she’s just put in it.

  Her best friend rolled her eyes. Val had nicknamed Jared Hot Cop from the moment she’d called to demand what Jared had wanted in the school’s parking lot this afternoon.

  Of course, against her will, the confession of that bone-melting kiss has poured out. Val wanted Mel to call him and renege on her refusal of a date. Immediately.