Broken Toy

by Tymber Dalton

  She let the yarn soothe her and shift her active, conscious brain out of gear. Her fingers took over, knowing what to do.

  Not even stopping for lunch, she waited until the light outside the condo’s back porch had started turning dark and purple, and she knew she’d missed the class.

  And dinner.

  Bill would probably hate her now. Even better. She could feel guilty for it and live with that, but at least she knew it was a clean break. Better for him, more than he would ever know, and best for her despite it hurting her heart.

  At least, for now, Maria stayed silent.

  And that was something she wouldn’t complain about.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rather than staying cooped up in the condo and going crazy Sunday, Gabe decided to take a drive south. There were supposed to be some great beaches in the area, especially in the southern part of the county.

  She knew if she didn’t get away from her computer, she’d end up working no matter what she’d promised her boss. She couldn’t help it. It was something Maria had, literally, beat into her at a young age.

  Working meant you were a productive citizen.

  Goofing off meant you weren’t.

  Sigh.

  Leaving the laptop at the condo, she got in her car and headed south down US 41 until she found the turnoff for CR 776 that would take her south through Englewood. From there, she located the Manasota Key turnoff and found her way to the beaches.

  She rarely went to the beaches in Miami. They were crowded with tourists, backed up against condos, and it meant battling annoying traffic to get over to the barrier islands. Parking was always a bitch, and by the time she got there, she was always in such a foul mood she might as well have been visiting a landfill.

  This was…nothing like that. The pristine white sand was strangely lacking crowds, or even high-rises. Sea grass dunes revealed gorgeous turquoise water she didn’t have to fight her way through hordes of people to get to.

  It was almost…calming.

  Okay, so I get why people like it here.

  Miami hadn’t been her dream destination. It’d simply been where she ended up after her enlistment had ended, she’d gone to school, graduated, and started working in law enforcement.

  After an hour or so of wandering up and down the sand, she returned to her car and continued south, leaving the key from the southern entrance and deciding to follow the road all the way into Port Charlotte, where the map told her it would once again intersect with US 41.

  One big, long, lazy loop. No one can accuse me of not trying to sightsee.

  When she finally reached that intersection, she found a mall there.

  Perfect.

  To kill time more than anything, she walked into the movie theatre and bought a ticket for the next show starting, which happened to be an R-rated comedy.

  Even better.

  After the movie ended, she opted to eat dinner at the mall. When Walker quizzed her about how she spent her time, she wouldn’t have to lie. She did sightsee, she did relax.

  Sort of.

  Unfortunately, all this gave her more time to think, more time to feel guilty about ditching the second class at the club without bothering to try to get a message to Bill.

  Well, he probably hates me already. Fuck it.

  It was after dark when she emerged from the mall and headed toward her car. She blamed her full stomach, and being absorbed in her self-recriminations for ditching the class without contacting Bill, for not paying better attention. When the group of three teen boys stepped out in front of her from behind a minivan, it took her a moment to get into work mode again.

  One of the three boys had something in his hand that flashed in the light from the overhead security lights in the parking lot. He was the tallest and oldest-looking of the three. “Give me your purse.”

  Knife.

  Sound faded away as she stepped in close. She grabbed his wrist with her left hand and pushed it down and away as she drew her .380 and pressed it against his temple.

  “Law enforcement!” she screamed. “Get on the ground, now!”

  “Shit!” One of the boys took off running.

  She kicked the one with the knife in the kneecap. He dropped the knife as he screamed in pain on his way down to the pavement. She wrenched his arm up and behind him, her knees planted in the middle of his back.

  The third boy looked undecided, wide-eyed, and frozen. She pointed her weapon at him. “Hands behind your head and down on the ground, now!”

  An older couple from the next row over getting out of their car saw the events. “Are you all right, ma’am?” the man asked.

  “No. Call 911. Tell them I’m an FDLE agent and I need police backup right now.”

  “You mean the sheriff?” the man asked. “We don’t have police here.”

  She fought the urge to swear at him. “The 911 dispatcher will know who to send.”

  The second boy finally decided he might be better off following her orders instead of fleeing. He didn’t look like a hardened criminal. He looked more like a kid about ready to piss his pants.

  She slowly stood and grabbed the knife from where it had landed and backed away from the two boys. “You stay facedown, hands on your heads. If you move, I will shoot you.” Well, she wouldn’t shoot them automatically, but better to give them a threat that would keep them in place than to have to deal with possibly shooting one of them.

  She heard the sirens less than a minute later. By the time the first deputy rolled up, she felt the adrenaline kick catching up and hitting her, sweat now pouring down her back.

  When the deputy emerged from his unit, a hand on his sidearm, she stepped back and holstered her weapon, holding both hands up. “FDLE Special Agent Gabriella Villalobos, Miami. They tried to mug me, one had at least a knife, and there’s one more who ran. I didn’t have cuffs on me.”

  She kept one hand up while slowly reaching into her back pocket to withdraw her badge holder and ID, extending it to the deputy. He looked at it before nodding. “Thank you,” he said.

  He tossed her a pair of handcuffs. She cuffed one of the boys while he cuffed the other. Another two marked cars rolled up and the deputies began searching the boys and questioning them. She leaned against the far side of the first car to wait until they were ready to take her statement. Breathing deeply, she clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to ride out the surge of adrenaline now pouring through her.

  She mentally groaned. Walker’s gonna kill me. So much for my time off. Drawing my sidearm means there’s going to be a shit-ton of paperwork.

  * * * *

  Someone called Miami to verify her identity. After the initial frenzy settled and a K-9 unit went looking for the third punk, she gave her statement.

  She also felt like an idiot for letting the boys, who were fifteen and sixteen, albeit taller and heavier than her, getting the drop on her in the first place.

  Basic urban survival 101, always be aware of your surroundings. Had she been paying attention, she never would have walked that close to the row of parked vehicles, especially one blocking her view like the minivan.

  That will teach me to focus on my personal life.

  Gabe heard the dispatcher radio the deputies that a detective was on the way to the scene. She let out another silent groan. She wanted to get out of there and go back to the condo. Walker would bust her balls for this, even though it wasn’t technically her fault.

  I can already hear him now. “Attracting trouble, are you? That bored, huh?”

  She snorted.

  Worse, it was starting to drizzle.

  Greeeaaat.

  She told the lead deputy she needed to go get her rain jacket. After retrieving it from her trunk, she walked back and spotted another car, unmarked, pulling up to the scene.

  She’d pulled the jacket’s hood up and over her head just in time for her heart to seize in her chest.

  Fuck!

  It’s dark. It can’t be. It’s
a coincidence. I’m seeing things…

  Fuck!

  But as she heard him speaking to one of the deputies, she realized it was.

  Bill.

  * * * *

  “Not telling you guys how to do your jobs, but did someone verify she’s really FDLE?” Bill asked one of the deputies.

  He pulled on his raincoat, mentally swearing at the weather’s timing. Just what he wanted to be doing on a Sunday night, dealing with state wonks. At least once a month they caught some mental midget with a fake badge imitating law enforcement. Sometimes for what they thought was a good purpose, and sometimes not.

  Hell, he wasn’t even supposed to be working tonight, but he’d offered to take a shift. Anything to get his mind off wondering why Ella stood him up at the class yesterday. She hadn’t responded to his private message to her on FetLife, either, asking if she was okay. Somehow, he suspected she wouldn’t be back on FetLife, although he had no way of telling if she’d read his message or not. Her activity stream had remained silent, not that it meant anything.

  The deputy, Edwards, nodded. “Yeah, Collins checked on her. She’s legit.”

  “Okay. Where is she?”

  He hooked a thumb toward another cruiser. “Waiting over there.”

  “Thanks.”

  He walked over. She stood on the far side of the cruiser, back to him and wearing a dark blue hooded rain slicker with FDLE emblazoned in bright yellow across the back of it.

  Well, they don’t sell those at Walmart. “Special Agent Villalobos? I’m Detective William Thomas.” He held out his hand.

  She turned, the upper part of her face deeply hidden in the shadows of the hood, and shook with him.

  That’s when the bottom dropped out of the sky.

  “Sorry,” he said, ducking his head against the deluge and raising his voice to be heard over the rain. “This’ll just take a second. Did you already give your statement?”

  “Yeah,” she said, but her voice sounded…weird. Familiar and yet spiked with nervous jitters. “One of the responding officers took my statement and info.”

  Likely the adrenaline crash hitting her. “No offense, but can I ask why you are in the area if you’re stationed in Miami?”

  “On vacation. Staying at a condo in Sarasota. Was sightseeing and stopped here for a movie and dinner.”

  “Ah.” Just pure dumb luck, then.

  They both jumped as a bolt of lightning split the air almost directly overhead, followed by a thundering crack that made everyone duck and let out shouts of surprise.

  He handed her a business card. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything else. Otherwise, the state attorney’s office will contact you if it goes to trial. You’d better get out of here. I’m heading back to my car.”

  “Thanks.” She scurried off. He didn’t bother waiting to see what she drove. He turned and ran for his own car. They’d have to sit and wait for the rain to die down a little before continuing.

  The K-9 won’t find shit in this slop.

  As he cranked his car and started the defroster, he stared out the windshield. To the best of his knowledge, he’d never met an FDLE agent by that name, but he’d swear there was something familiar about her.

  * * * *

  Fuck fuck fuckfuckFUCK!

  The initial adrenaline surge had started to fade, but seeing Bill had amped it up again. Her pulse raced so hard and fast in her throat she wasn’t sure might not pass out. Her hands shook so badly she almost couldn’t get the key fitted into the ignition. She pulled out and around to the far side of the mall, into the busy parking lot of a standalone restaurant on the outskirts. There, she put the car into park and rested her forehead against the steering wheel while forcing herself to take deep breaths.

  She’d dropped his card on the passenger seat. After a couple of minutes, once her fingers weren’t trembling quite so badly, she reached over and picked it up again.

  Bill was actually one Charlotte County Sheriff’s Office Detective William Thomas.

  Son of a bitch!

  What were the odds that the two of them were both in law enforcement? And what the hell had he been doing there at the club anyways? Did she miss being part of a bust?

  Rational thought tried to get a crowbar into the frazzled adrenaline frenzy clouding her brain. No, he’d been friends with some of the people there. Rob and Laura. And there’d been no recent reports of anything happening regarding the club as far as she knew. From the way he acted, he seemed to be genuinely trying to learn from the class, not gather information to be used later in an investigation or as evidence.

  Hell, the club seemed to be doing everything legally and aboveboard. Even had their state sales tax certificate and county business permit posted in the office by the cash register. They forbade alcohol, drugs, and penetrative sex. It was a private, members-only club, with the correct zoning and location for an adult business.

  She closed her eyes and replayed the evening. Rob had mentioned something about meeting Bill through work.

  It took her nearly twenty minutes to be able to drive again. She found US 41 and headed north, stopping for nothing except traffic lights until she pulled into the parking space at the condo. Running upstairs, she left the wet slicker lying in the tiled foyer by the front door and went straight to her work computer, Bill’s business card in her hand.

  It took her less than thirty seconds to find the story. Bill had worked the well-publicized attack of one Laura Spaulding over a year earlier. Her fiancé at the time, Rob Carlton, a county paramedic, had been working during the attack and was cleared as a suspect. The attack had left Laura with a severe case of amnesia usually only seen in romance novels and movies, and less often in real life, unless accompanied by traumatic brain injuries.

  She was a lucky woman to come out relatively unscathed physically.

  After several months, the case had resolved itself when the suspect abducted Laura on one of her shop’s boats, but she managed to kill him before the boat sank. She was rescued and recovered her memories as a result of the second attack.

  Apparently Laura and Rob had gone from engaged to married at some point.

  Shock and relief battled in her already adrenaline-scrambled brain. Starting as snickers, her laughter ended up growing and rolling through her until she sat doubled over in her chair and struggled to breathe.

  A stupid coincidence. That’s exactly what it had been. But what would have happened had she gone back for the second class? Gotten to know him better? She was from Miami, anyway. A long-distance relationship, even that close of a distance, wasn’t something she had any interest in.

  Besides, he’d seen a little of her back. That was enough intimate contact.

  She made sure the front door was locked before taking her gun off and getting undressed. The hot shower felt good, melting the last of the stress from her system.

  Dumb, stupid luck.

  Maybe sometimes things really did happen for a reason. She wasn’t religious, or even superstitious by any stretch of the imagination, but it looked like getting cold feet had really saved her from an uncomfortable development. He likely wouldn’t want to be involved with another law enforcement officer, either. That just doubled their risk of being outed.

  Before she went to bed, she hopped onto the Internet again. She found TV station coverage of press conferences that had been held during the investigation of Laura’s attack. She did her best to ignore the pleasant little thump her pulse made when she watched Bill…

  Sorry, Det. William Thomas…

  …make official updates and statements to the press.

  I was stupid to think I could have a relationship, anyway. This was a sign. I took my focus off my work and look what happened. That was just a warning shot from Fate across my bow to get my head on straight and concentrate on my job.

  She shut her computer down and went to bed. Unfortunately, sleep wasn’t soon in coming. Her mind refused to quit thinking about Bill, about what happened.
>
  About narrow misses…

  And missed chances.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Monday morning, Gabe overslept. When her work cell phone rang on the bedside table a little after seven thirty, she groaned as she rolled over and looked at the screen, the headache forcing her to squint to read the display.

  Walker.

  Dammit.

  Actually, she gave him credit. She was shocked he’d waited this long to call her and bust her balls over the mugging. She’d expected someone in Miami to give him a call about it last night since he was her supervisor. She’d have to fill out paperwork on the incident and submit it to him regardless.

  She sat up and thumbed the green button. “Villalobos.”

  Walker’s tone sounded all business. “Change of plans. You’re going back to work.”

  She yawned. “Am I in that much trouble, boss?”

  “Huh?”

  “Over the mugging. Am I in that much trouble?”

  A second of silence greeted her comment. “The what? What the hell are you talking about?”

  Now she felt a little more awake despite the headache throbbing through her brain from oversleeping. “What are you talking about?”

  “What mugging?”

  “You’re not calling to bust my nuts about nearly getting mugged last night and having to draw my personal sidearm?”

  She heard him take a long, slow, deep breath on the other end of the line and let it out again before he spoke. “Want to back up and tell me what you’re talking about?”

  Crap. Was it possible he hadn’t been calling about that? “Um, no biggie.”

  “You brought it up. Tell me.”

  She did, keeping it short and sweet and not mentioning anything about knowing the responding detective, much less how she knew him.

  “Jeez, Gabe,” he said. “You know, it’s your lucky day. I don’t even have time to bust your balls about that.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “We’re setting up a task force to nab some more of the johns from the Martinez case.” He quickly detailed how they were sending out agents to several regional offices to coordinate with local law enforcement agencies in the areas where they’d tracked potential suspects. “I want you to work with the Sarasota and Charlotte County area representatives. We’ll probably add Manatee and DeSoto to the list as well, once the computer crimes guys get back to me with a list of locations.”