by C. A. Szarek
They’d worked all day together—Manning, Lucas and Taylor.
Eddie had called from California. There was buzz about Bennett gathering new cronies and organizing a big hit on another train carrying high dollar vehicles. The shipment was in a few weeks.
The FBI agent’s CI was going to participate, and was ferretting information back to Eddie as it came. The only thing he could confirm was that Bennett was not back in LA—yet.
Her former co-worker said he would keep her in the loop. They had to get through Christmas, which was a week away—from today.
Eddie had joked that even thieves took a break for presents.
So she and her two detective partners had spent the afternoon strategizing on where Bennett could be and how he was getting there. He was injured—they knew that. Just not how badly.
The new info made it clear he wasn’t dead in a hole somewhere, but they needed more. They needed to find Carter Bennett.
They’d made contacts with local law enforcement and worked their way out, calling in favors from fellow cops to keep an eye out for stolen cars. All three of them had called every last cop, detective or deputy they could think of.
Taylor called every FBI offices between Texas and California to watch for Bennett, too.
It was a good day.
She felt like they’d accomplished something, though neither Bennett nor Pompa were in cuffs.
Unfortunately, in all the info Eddie had shared, Bennett hadn’t mentioned Pompa to his guy, and neither had the CI or Eddie heard anything.
Joe Pompa’s whereabouts was still unknown.
Manning had been in a hurry to leave the PD when five o’clock had rolled around. He’d told them both he had a date.
Lucas had ribbed him about some kindergarten teacher, but Taylor had been poring over a report and only paid half-attention to their banter.
The younger detective had left then, and Taylor had finished up a few emails while Lucas hovered in his cubicle, suddenly sullen.
They hadn’t discussed the phone call where she’d said the words floating around in her head since it’d happened—and somehow last night felt like a week ago.
Bottom line—Lucas had told her she was full of shit. He knew Manning, he’d sworn. Asserted his partner wasn’t dirty. He’d even said “End. Of.”
But she hadn’t missed his watchful gaze all day. Lucas was keener than normal. He was watching Manning, too. His words might not have revealed his intentions, because he’d been pretty normal, but Taylor could see the suspicion. Hear the subtle questions—she recognized Lucas analyzing everything.
As a trained observer should.
“You ready?” His deep voice had been too close for comfort when she’d signed off the computer less than an hour before.
“Ready for what?” Taylor had whirled the chair around and met his eyes.
Lucas had been reclined into the side of his cubicle, his posture appearing relaxed, but his jaw locked, belying his loose shoulders and the boot he had propped up. When he crossed his arms, his biceps bulged and forearms flexed. Tension had rolled off him. “You need to show me something, don’t you?”
It only took her a half-second to get with the program.
Taylor had nodded.
Now they sat in her car. The air was stifled and her chest hurt. She felt for the former FBI agent.
She really did.
Taylor had only known them for a few weeks, but Lucas and Manning were close. Their friendship went beyond partners. Beyond work. They were like brothers. Involved in each other’s families—personal lives.
Jared Manning had jogged down the street moments before, a brown paper bag in his arms. They’d watched him head into the bar to pick up his order. First stop after leaving the station.
Then Taylor had driven a route that had become familiar, except that Manning had rounded the block twice before he’d pulled into the Freedom Park.
Being December, the place was deserted, with only one other car parked in front of the pavilion. No people in sight.
She’s slunk the Impala down the street and parked around the corner. The big oak tree dominating the front yard of the house to their left hung over the sidewalk and offered some cover.
Following the younger detective was getting more difficult. He looked around a lot, upping the observation of his surroundings.
Like a cop should.
Taylor had to give him that. And she hadn’t been caught yet.
Right?
Does he suspect something?
“So much for a date,” Lucas said, speaking for the first time since Manning had left McAuley’s.
Taylor didn’t remark. She didn’t know what to say.
Silence fell again and she studied the wide porch, the front door. Taylor scanned all the windows of the big house, even the ones upstairs.
Still can’t see inside. Dammit.
“Do you know the girl he’s dating?” she finally asked.
“Yes.”
“Let me guess, she doesn’t live at four-twenty-seven Montgomery Street.”
He shook his head, an odd look on his face. Lucas opened his mouth to say something then sighed. He frowned.
“What do you know that you’re not saying?” she prodded when the FBI agent-turned-detective didn’t speak.
“Nothing,” Lucas said a bit too fast.
“Nothing?” Taylor cocked her head to one side and appraised him.
Lucas’ expression hardened, but she couldn’t read him. He was suddenly pure concrete. “Let’s just not jump to conclusions.”
“Who said we’re jumping? I’ve been studying his behavior. There’s a pattern. And more than one thing that doesn’t add up.”
“Great, you’re profiling my partner,” Lucas muttered. He rubbed his cheek. The five o’clock shadow made a scratching noise.
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m doing my job.”
“No. Your job is to work this case. Find Pompa and Bennett. Bring them in. I know you’re determined, and I respect that. But I think you’re seeing something here that’s not here.”
“Am I?”
“I know my partner a hell of a lot better than you do, is what I’m saying.”
“I don’t dispute that. Perhaps you’re too close to see what’s here.”
“Me?” Lucas scoffed, then pointed to her chest. “I think you’re reading into something you think you see. Which, by the way, you’ve yet to name. ‘Something’s not right’ isn’t evidence. Besides, I’m not chasing the guy who murdered my fiancé. By the way, you’ve gotta tell me how you got your boss to let you stay on the case.”
Taylor froze. “You checked up on me.”
“Damn straight I did. You accused my partner of being dirty. I think you’re too close to this case, Special Agent.”
“Obviously you and I will never see eye-to-eye on this particular facet of the investigation,” she said, intentionally ignoring Lucas’ accusation.
He laughed—laughed.
Taylor frowned.
“This isn’t a facet of any investigation, Taylor Carrigan. Jared Manning is not a dirty cop. I’d bet my badge on it.”
* * * *
“Baby?” Jared kept his voice low, and his back turned to his older brother.
Joe’s head was in his hands, his whole form soaked in sorrow. Exuding it, actually. The burger on the plate in front of him had gone long cold. One bite reshaped the bun. French fries were still in the Styrofoam container, untouched. The guy hadn’t even wanted a beer.
“Hi, Jared.” Mel’s bright, sweet—perfect—voice made him wince. “I’m almost ready. Are you coming to get me, or are we meeting at Rizzoli’s?”
He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. I hate to do this, but I’m gonna hafta cancel.”
“Oh, okay.” If she was disappointed she hid it well. “Everything all right?”
No. “Yeah. This case is just killin’ me.”
“Will you be okay?” The concern
in her voice had him smiling.
Jared just made sure to keep his back to Joe. “Yes, ma’am, I think so.”
“You’re…” she paused. Didn’t continue.
“I’m what?”
“Making me worry about you.” Mel rushed her words.
He laughed. “Sounds like you think that’s a bad thing.”
“Well, I don’t want to be one of those clingy girlfriends.”
Girlfriend?
She considered herself his girlfriend?
His heart sped into overdrive. Jared’s limbs warmed. His tongue was thick in his mouth and he wanted to speak sweet nothings in her ear until she melted and moaned like when they’d had phone sex.
“Jared?”
“I’m here.” He had to clear his throat. “And you can cling to me anytime, baby.”
Mel laughed and it warmed him even more. “Such a guy thing to say.”
He grinned. “I am a guy.” Jared heard the screech of wood against the linoleum and glanced over his shoulder.
Joe didn’t look at him as he stood, but he did push the chair to the edge of the table.
Jared’s heart plummeted to his stomach as reality made his head spin.
My brother needs me now.
He lost track of what Mel was saying. Guilt hit him in gut. His desire to be with her warred with where his head needed to be right now. With Joe. “Baby, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go.”
“Oh, okay. I understand.”
Of course she does.
Which made Jared feel even more torn. “Listen, I’ll call you when I get home, if it’s not too late.”
“Okay. Be careful. Be Safe.”
Jared managed another smile. “You know it. Always. I’ll see you soon. Promise.”
“You’d better.” He could hear her joy. See her gorgeous smile in his head.
Hanging up just about killed him but he did it. He pocketed his cell and turned to his brother.
Joe was in the living room, but instead of reclining in comfort in on the couch, loveseat or one of the two overstuffed chairs, he was on the floor in the corner next to the entertainment center. Balled up, back against the wall, head bowed.
“You should go be with your woman,” he croaked.
“No way.” Jared slid the ottoman close and sat a few feet from his brother.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not being stupid.” He tapped his brother’s sneaker-clad foot with one of his boots. “I might be with stupid, though.”
His brother smirked, but shook his head. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m a fucking idiot.”
Jared frowned. “Nah. Shit happens. We’ll work this all out, big brother.”
“This FBI chick…Carri-whatever, she’s after me pretty hard.”
“Carrigan.” Jared nodded. “Yeah, she is. But I have your statement. I know what happened at the trailer. And if you turned yourself in, we can work it out, Joe. I promise.”
“Fuck.” Joe dragged his palm down his unshaven face. “Prison.”
“I know. But it’s better than death. Or being on the run for the rest of your life.”
Doubt crossed his brother’s eyes. The room was dim, but Jared didn’t miss the pain darting across his expression.
He reached down and squeezed Joe’s thick forearm. “I got your back, bro.”
“So you keep saying,” Joe whispered.
“You don’t believe me?” Jared cocked his head to one side, and studied his older brother.
“I do. It scares the shit out of me. I don’t want to jeopardize your job. Your life.”
“Joe.” He waited until his brother looked up at him. Held his gaze. “You’re my brother. My blood. As my partner would say, end. Of.”
One corner of Joe’s mouth shot up and he nodded. “Partner, huh?”
“Yeah. His name’s Cole. He’s a good dude.”
“You’re close?”
“Yeah. APD isn’t that big, and we’re like a family.”
Again, pain dominated his brother’s strong jaw line and high cheekbones.
Jared sighed. “Anything you wanna talk about?” He still hadn’t told him two other members of his crew had been killed. He couldn’t. Not with the current look on Joe’s face being the one he most often wore.
“I lost my burner phone.”
“Not a shocker. Probably smart of you, actually.”
“I haven’t been able to talk to my guys. Rick’s like a mother hen. I’m sure he’s worried. Mack and Rowdy were Team-Carter when I left, but still. I wanna make sure they’re okay.”
Oh. Shit.
Jared forced a nod, but Joe eyed him with suspicion.
“What? Do you know something?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Jared said.
Joe laughed. “Right. You have that look you always get when you’re hiding something. Like you did when you lied about something as a kid.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I have a look?”
“Yeah. Only someone who knows you well could pick it up. Spill it, little brother.”
Shit. Has Cole seen ‘my look?’
Jared shook his head. “Nothin’ to spill.”
“Bullshit.” Now Joe quirked one dark eyebrow and Jared tried not to smile, despite the news he didn’t want to share.
Like lookin’ in a mirror.
The intense glare in his Joe’s eyes made his thoughts sober. His stomach jumped.
“You have bad fucking news. Just hit me with it. Faster the better.”
There was no reaching for police professionalism when he read the fear and dread in his brother’s gaze.
“I’m sorry.” The two words came out as a croak.
Joe made noise in his throat.
“Richard Wilkins and Sean McKinley are dead,” Jared said as evenly as he could.
“No.” Joe slumped and buried his face in his cupped hands. His shoulders shook and Jared’s heart broke.
He scooted off the ottoman and landed next to his brother on the carpet. Threw his arm around the guy.
They didn’t speak, but Joe didn’t push him away, either, so he took that as a good sign. He let his brother grieve in silence.
“Get off me.” The muffled order made Jared smile.
He did his brother’s bidding. Dropped his arm to his lap and intentionally rocked into Joe’s shoulder. “What? You’re too old for a hug?”
“Fuck off.”
Jared chuckled.
“You know I’ve never been good at that shit,” Joe said.
“What shit?”
His brother wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Being comforted.”
“Yeah, I remember. But you were always the one doing the comforting, anyway. To me. Your whiny little brother.”
A ghost of a smile played at Joe’s lips. “A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have survived childhood if it wasn’t for you.”
“Ditto.”
“Why’d you take off? My parents—the Mannings—wanted you, Joe. Mom—Amy—grieved. Dad looked for you. Hell, the cops looked for you. You just poofed. I think Mom was just as devastated as I was. Maybe more. She felt like she failed you. I missed you like hell.”
An unnamed emotion flickered across Joe’s face. He averted his gaze, staring at the blackout curtains on the closest window.
The wall between them was palpable. Jared was startled. Not because his brother shut down—that he understood. He’d forgiven Joe for leaving years ago, even if he’d never had the balls to ask why.
Cold fury burned in Joe’s eyes when their gazes finally met. His brother made two tight fists and planted them in his lap. “I left for you.”
“For me?”
“So you could have a normal family. Normal parents. Cute kid sister. Without your fuckup of an older brother.”
“You’re not a fuckup.” Jared was half-surprised Joe remembered Jenna.
“Was then, am now. Always will be. Thanks to that asshole.”
“What asshole? What’re you talking about?”
“Remember the Danvers family?”
Jared reared back. “Yes.” They’d been removed from that foster family when the parents had been accused of physical abuse. He didn’t remember much—had been too young—and the couple had never touched him, though some of the kids in the huge household had often worn bruises. “What about them?”
“Daddy Danvers.”
“Did he hit you?” He frowned.
Why is this news to me?
“Sometimes, but that’s not what fucked me up.”
Jared stared into his brother’s dark eyes.
Joe averted his gaze again and flexed his jaw.
Silence stretched.
“Joe—”
“He raped me, all right?”
Air whooshed from Jared’s lungs. Damn good thing he was sitting, or he would’ve fallen on his ass for sure. “What?”
“Over and over. I went to him so he’d leave you the hell alone.”
“Joe—”
“I wasn’t one of the ones he beat the shit out of, because I went willingly.” His brother spoke in a monotone, and he still wouldn’t look at Jared.
The room spun and Jared reached for the ottoman to steady himself.
“So that’s why I’m fucked up. Why I couldn’t be normal. Why I couldn’t stay in Antioch and the reason I couldn’t keep my shit together for her.”
He doesn’t mean Mom.
Jared’s heart pounded so hard Joe’s words faded in and out, like he was about to pass the fuck out.
Silence fell again, because what the hell was he supposed to say?
Joe cleared his throat what felt like hours later. “I can’t believe I fucking told you that.”
“I can’t believe you hadn’t told me before.” Jared pushed the words out of his mouth as his brother finally looked his way.
“It was a long time ago.” He wore a sad smile. “What happened happened. It’s okay. I’m so fucking proud of you, J-man.”
Just like his brother move the spotlight off himself. “Joe. We should talk about this.”
“Hell no.”
“Joe.”
“Jared.” Joe sucked in a breath and patted Jared’s arm. “It was a long fucking time ago. I’m over it. I accepted my lot in life. I’m glad you got out.” His brother’s jaw was locked.
