“But—”
“Not up for discussion.”
She was seething. If she needed to get a union rep down here, so be it.
“You need to be cleared by a doctor before you can be back to full capacity. Hear me?”
“Yes.” She knew exactly where she’d go for the doctor’s note.
“I didn’t hear you.”
She wouldn’t repeat it again. She resorted to firing off a glare instead.
Winston leaned back in his chair. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t suspend you right now.”
“For one, you’d never get away with it.”
Winston let out a staggered breath. “You can be exasperating.”
She knew that without due process he couldn’t inflict any disciplinary action. First, she’d have to endure an IA investigation. From there it could go as far as a Loudermill hearing. It all depended on how hard the brass wanted to push the situation and what sort of punishment they had in mind. Either way, it resulted in the one thing she would have rather avoided—a permanent blemish on her record, even if she was cleared of any wrongdoing—but it was too late to retract her steps now.
“What? No comment to that?” Winston lifted his cup and took a sip. “I want you to go in for counseling.”
“Sarge.”
“Your life was in danger. That can change a person.”
“I’m fine. I just need to get in those rooms and deal with them.”
“Deal with them?”
“They would have killed me.”
“Yeah, they would have. But you shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”
“Is this the speech you give rape victims?” With her good hand, she braced herself on the back of the chair in front of her.
“Watch the attitude.”
“They killed a man and—”
“Did they, Knight? Have they stood trial and been convicted?” He broke eye contact with her and took another draw on his coffee. “I don’t have a choice here.”
There was more than one dead man she referred to, but she wasn’t going to bring up her past. “Boss.”
“It’s out of my hands and not up for discussion. The IA investigation will take place.” He cradled his mug and swiveled in his chair. “I do have one question for you, though. Who pulled their gun first?” He waved his hand. “Nah, you know what, you’ll be asked that during the investigation. I want your written statement as to what happened first thing tomorrow morning.”
-
Chapter 10
BEFORE MADISON COULD LEAVE THE sergeant’s office, Chief McAlexandar swung the door open and rushed in. The chief wagged his finger at her. “You better have a bloody good—”
There was only one way this moment in her life could get any worse, and this was it. She grit her teeth, preparing for the verbal lash-out she, no doubt, had headed her way. She had reasons for what she had done, none of which would make it past her superiors’ ears to their sense of logic or passive humanity.
“Chief, please, take a seat,” Sergeant Winston gestured with his hand to one of the two chairs facing his desk.
McAlexandar turned to Winston. “You’re telling me what to do now?”
“I’m asking you to take a seat.”
“Well.” McAlexandar clicked his tongue and pulled down on his suit jacket, undoing the single button as he sat.
“I’ve already discussed the matter with her. She knows about the investigation and that she is being assigned desk duty immediately.”
“Desk duty? As if I did something wrong? Those men,” she pointed behind her, implicating the interrogation rooms, “were going to kill me.”
“We’ve been through this, Knight.” Winston gave her a stern look.
It drove home the fact she was on the outside. With both men here they would pit against her as a working unit and she would be left in the chaff. Just the fact Winston started off talking to McAlexandar about her in the third person, as if she weren’t in the room, cemented that fact.
McAlexandar twisted and looked over his shoulder at her. “Half of the city was shut down because the city’s resources were tied up getting you out of a situation you shouldn’t have been in.”
“You’d rather have a dead detective as the top news story?” She cocked her head and challenged him. No doubt her energy reeked of defiance.
“Why were you there? Do you have a good explanation for that? I’m sure you don’t. In fact, I’d wager you didn’t. You run around,” he fluttered his fingers, “doing what you wish. You don’t abide by any rules but your—”
“Those men killed an innocent man, and they’re going to get away with it.”
McAlexandar mocked laughter. “An innocent man? You’re referring to that dead lawyer, from what?—five plus years ago. Ridiculous. That case is colder than last night’s dinner.” He shook his head and rotated back around to face the sergeant.
Madison gauged the sergeant’s reaction to the chief. There was a reflection in his eyes and determination in the set of his jaw. He was being swayed to his superior’s side. She had to speak fast.
“When we sign on to be cops, there isn’t a time limit assigned. Our job is to find justice.”
“Yes, yes, to protect and serve.” The chief kept looking forward. “We are all aware of it.”
If an eye roll could carry across articulation, the chief’s did now.
She continued. “I don’t like loose ends. I like answers. Sometimes that gets me into—”
“Shit?” The chief spun around. “It gets you into shit.”
She let out a breath of air, the result of both aggravation and the constant ache in her wrist. So much for the medication. “I’ll start again—”
The chief held up a hand. “There’s no need.” He faced Winston. “She has a history of being insubordinate, now she’s trying to take down members of the Russian Mafia, on her own, I might add. She’s carrying out a sort of vigilante justice.”
She realized she was sunk when he chose the same word to describe her behavior as had the sergeant. Vigilante. Is that what she was? She thought about the meaning of the word and drew her conclusion.
“You both tell me that I acted out as a vigilante.”
“Well, you did shoot a man, did you not?” The chief’s rhetorical question was dry.
She disregarded his attitude, and apparent need to come out the victor from any altercation. “A vigilante acts as law enforcement without legal authority. I am a Major Crimes Detective with Stiles PD.” She held up her badge. “I made it here on my own merit, in the odds of not making it because I’m a woman, to not only succeed but to excel.”
McAlexandar let out a curt hmm. “You excelled all right. At wasting tax payer’s money.”
“And you acted with legal authority when you entered that warehouse?” Winston asked, leaning forward. He clasped his hands, his coffee now seemingly forgotten.
“I didn’t conduct an illegal search. I didn’t hide my presence.”
“But you did show up for the purpose—”
“Are you going to listen to what I say at all? Or are you going to keep interrupting me?” The attitude slipped out and, based on the reddened cheeks of the chief and the tightened features on the sergeant, it didn’t go unnoticed.
She went on. “When they saw me, Anatolli held his gun on me.”
“And yet you did nothing to provoke this? Except for showing up unannounced, of course,” the sergeant said.
“You are both failing to see the point here.” McAlexandar pivoted in his chair. “Would you just sit down for crying out loud?”
“Actually, I think we’re done here.” She reached for the door handle.
“Knight, you get back here. We’re not finished.”
“As far as I’m concerned, we are.” She left the offi
ce and when she stepped into the hallway, she was surprised that neither man followed her. They were probably discussing her permanent termination.
-
Chapter 11
HOW DARE THOSE TWO MEN attack her as if she were in the wrong? How could they not see that she was only doing her job? Her level of frustration had no effect on the outcome, though, and if she wasn’t allowed to see the Russians, she needed to slip into bed. Her eyelids were gritty like sandpaper.
Despite this, she needed to see the little guy who had become part of her life, against her best efforts to fight the fact that she didn’t want, or need, a dog.
Hershey.
Terry had put her car keys on her desk. She didn’t see him as she headed out, and when she asked Ranson, she said that he hadn’t come back.
She drove to Canine Country Retreat Boarding.
Abigail was behind the front counter. Her long, platinum-blond hair was down and worn straight, as always. Her pale blue eyes housed a pleasant soul, and if she were twenty-five, Madison would be surprised.
“Good morning, Madison. We were talking about you around here.”
“Oh, sorry about that. Something came up and I wasn’t able to call. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience keeping him a bit longer.”
The truth lay in Abigail’s eyes.
“It was,” Madison concluded.
“We had to move some of our guests around, but it worked out all right.” Her eyes pried Madison’s for a reason, but when Madison didn’t respond, Abigail’s eyes cast downward and took in her bandaged hand. She pointed at it. “Does it have something to do with that? That has to hurt.”
She had no idea. The constant dull ache had taken up residence, but Madison wasn’t going to succumb to the pain. “It does, but it’s a long story.”
“Ah, and none of my business. Related to the job?”
Madison nodded. That’s all the girl would get for details, and it seemed to suffice as she picked up a wireless radio and requested that Hershey be brought up.
Minutes later, he came bounding through the doorway, panting and holding a comical facial expression that Madison could only term a doggie smile.
She bent down on her haunches to cuddle him and couldn’t believe the emotion that whelmed up in her throat. All that she had been through in the last twenty-four hours. How close she had come to dying. How it was only by chance that she had the opportunity to walk away.
God, his fur felt great under her fingers.
She cleared her throat and rose to full height. “Thank you for taking such good care of him. I’ll be happy to compensate you for the extra troub—”
Abigail waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. It looks like you have enough on your plate.”
The girl had no idea. Not only was she responsible for having two Russian henchmen in holding, but she would also face the IA investigation tomorrow, and the sarge had mentioned he’d like her to see the department shrink.
But the thing that haunted her more than anything was the sergeant’s question—who pulled their gun first?
-
Chapter 12
MADISON HAD FALLEN ASLEEP QUICKLY, with Hershey taking up the other side of her double bed. Light no longer seeped in along the edges of the blinds.
She glanced at her alarm clock—7:45 PM.
Beside the clock, her cell phone lit up before it rang.
“Hey.” Her voice came out husky when she answered, but speaking woke her up enough to become aware of the real reason she stirred. Her wrist hurt like a son of a bitch. It was medication time.
“Maddy? Are you okay? I just saw it on the news. The Russians.”
It was her younger sister, Chelsea, who was married and had three daughters. She was their mother’s golden child.
“I’m fine.”
“Why? Did it have something to do with you?”
Crap. She wasn’t thinking clearly. “I was just saying…the situation…it’s fine.”
Chelsea had no idea about the past and why ensuring the Russians were all behind bars meant so much, but it still wasn’t the right time. Madison was determined to protect her from it. Being the eldest, that was the least she could do.
“Okay. Do you know who went in there? Why didn’t you call me?”
“If I called you over everything that came up at work, we’d talk every day.”
“I don’t have a problem with that.” Her sister’s serious tone lightened. “Maybe you should get away for a while and have a break.”
Hearing the depth of anxiety in her sister’s words, she remembered one of the things she promised to be better at if she made it out alive. She would be more loving and give of herself. “I suppose I could call more often.”
“Suppose? Maybe once every six months or so.” Chelsea laughed. “We even live in the same city.”
“I know. Work’s just—”
“I know. Always busy, right? Well, try raising three girls. It’s a zoo around here.”
Madison let the line go silent. She needed to go before she let something slip. “Thanks for checking in.”
“All right. Well, if you need me, call, okay?” Chelsea’s question came out with a serious arc.
“I will.” Her attempt at keeping things lighthearted was sabotaged by flashbacks of being tied in the chair with a revolver to her head.
On the count of three…
Her heart raced.
“Promise me?”
Madison moaned loudly as a sharp pain shot through her wrist.
“Maddy?”
“I promise.”
The oath brought another one to mind—the one she made to herself to mend the relationship with her parents. Now, restored to freedom and the shroud of fear removed, it was a tougher feat to imagine.
The images from the warehouse were coming in subsequent slides. She needed to get off the phone. She put on a brave front in hopes that it would carry across the line. “I’m fine, mother hen. Go, baby your girls. Speaking of, hug them tightly for me.”
“If you came over, you could hug them yourself.”
It was apparent hardheadedness was a family trait.
“I’m exhausted, Chels.”
“Exhausted? At eight o’clock at night?”
Another slip-up. “I was in really early this morning.”
“All right. It sounds to me like you’re working too hard.”
“It’s who I am.”
“Be sure to call Mom.”
The directive, motivated out of love, dug at Madison’s soul. It would take time to repair things there.
“Night, Sis.”
“I’ll let this subject go.”
“Good.” Madison laughed. “Love you.”
“Love—” Her sister disconnected. She was always quick at cutting off.
Madison didn’t let go of the receiver, her thoughts tracing to her parents. She should call them. It would feel great to hear their voices, but they would likely find it suspicious as she never spoke to them. Her mother would go into a tirade of questions. Was she all right? Did she have a boyfriend? And of course, the one that came up every time, when was she going to quit being a cop? It was all about getting a real job, a safe job, and settling down with a husband before having children weren’t an option.
She also knew her mind wasn’t clear and she didn’t need to say something she had no intention of saying. Madison didn’t think her mother was aware of the entire history of their family and the Russians and she intended to keep it that way. After all, the only reason Madison knew was because she dug until she received the answers she sought.
Besides, she could handle things. She had so far, hadn’t she?
She put her cell back on the nightstand and exchanged it for a couple pills and a glass of water. She’d have to wake u
p early to write her report on what happened.
-
Chapter 13
THE CASE HAD BEEN ASSIGNED TO TERRY, with Madison being relegated to modified duty, but it didn’t come without a fight. He owed her that much—even if he was pissed off with her.
Sergeant Winston and Chief McAlexandar would have preferred the matter be handled by another detective, one not as close to Madison. Terry’s saving argument had been that the department was a family, that they were all equally invested, and who better to defend Madison’s rights than her own partner.
Now, seated across from her ex, Blake Golden, in the interview room he was sorry he had pursued handling the case. “You know, I’m having a hard time focusing on how you got to represent the Russians,” Terry said.
“If you’re having a hard time focusing, maybe this case should be in the hands of someone more competent.” Blake sustained eye contact.
“You are cold, aren’t you. It’s a good thing she dumped your ass because you don’t deserve her.”
“If you can’t stick to business, I will request another detective handle this case.”
Terry had disliked the guy when he’d crossed paths with him during a prior investigation that saw Madison go missing. He had seemed obtuse about the entire situation.
“You think you have all authority, don’t you? You might down at your little law firm,” the statement little law firm was a jab to the man’s ego, which Terry pegged as one of his dominant characteristics. “But you don’t have control over who handles things here. You want me to focus on business because you can’t handle personal matters, that’s fine. Let’s focus on business.” Terry paused.
Blake didn’t speak but adjusted the knot of his tie.
“Your clients will be charged with the kidnapping and endangerment of a police officer’s life, as well as attempted homicide.”
“The way I understand things, she went there of her own accord.”
“They were found holding a gun to her head. She was restrained to a chair in their torture room.”
Blake snorted out a laugh. “Torture room? You’ve got to be kidding me? Where is the hidden camera for this exercise?” He looked around the room. “It must be here somewhere.”
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