by Layne, Lyssa
Fletcher straightened his spine and stuck out a defiant chin. “Fine.” He yanked out a chair and sank into it.
Nick held back a smug laugh as he eyed the man's red face and tight mouth. He could almost see smoke coming out of the jerk’s ears. Let him fume. If his cousin’s superior officers hadn’t been present, Nick would teach that weasel a lesson or two. But for Brad’s sake he reined in his temper. It wouldn’t hurt Brad, but it would definitely get him locked up. He needed to be free in case Brad needed further help. Besides, it was kind of fun pissing the little twit off. Thought they had him over a barrel, did they? He'd never give them anything they could use against Brad. Morons.
Captain Van Norton introduced himself and the other officer. “Mr.—-”
“Moran. Nick Moran.”
“I’m Captain Van Norton, Watch Commander for this department. This is Captain Roberts, who is both Detective Maxwell and Detective Gallagher’s superior officer.” George Van Norton leaned forward resting his arms on the table. “Okay Nick, we’ve taken your prints, checked into your business, and we’re doing a thorough background search on you. If you’re in any way covering for either of these officers, I promise you I’ll see you’re prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”
Nick leaned forward and eyed Van Norton. “The name is Mr. Moran to you.
Van Norton slapped the table. “I’ve had about enough of your smart mouth.”
“Then it's best you let me go home, 'cause my smart mouth is going to get worse.” Nick jerked himself upright knocking the chair over behind him. Leaning his body forward, his palms firmly planted on the tabletop. He needed to stall for time. If he could keep them in this room, all day if necessary, it would give Brad more time to figure out his next steps. He’d been in and out of lock up a number of times and decided to pull a moved guarantee to cause havoc. He turned around and bent to pick up the chair and right it, but did so with jerky movements.
“Sit down, Moran,” Van Norton sputtered in anger and half rose from his chair.
Next thing he knew Fletcher tackled him and slapped the cuffs on him, just like he planned. He lay there, not fighting, but calmly and casually said, “You just blew it. I’m going to sue.”
“Release him Fletcher,” Roberts ordered.
“Are you kidding he was grabbing for the chair to use as a weapon.”
“Oh for the love of—release him, damn it—that’s an order!”
Van Norton leveled a caustic glare in Roberts’ direction. “Release him.” Then turned to Nick.
“Please be seated. This isn’t helping.”
Nick rubbed his wrists once the cuffs were removed. “No, you sit down. You have nothing on me.” Nick squared his shoulders and pointed a thumb toward his chest for emphasis. “I’m an honest businessman doing an honest job.” He waved a wild hand making Dean flinch. “So what if I tie one on. It’s not like I went out drinking and driving. I acted responsibly. I stayed off the road and slept in the back room of my office.” He took in a deep breath and blew it out in a gust. “If you jokers can’t keep an eye on your own officers don’t go blaming us tax-paying citizens, for your mistakes.”
Nick leaned forward placing his knuckles on the table. He looked from the twit, to the commander, then to Brad’s boss. “Now, if you’re done with your dumb cop, bad cop routine, I’d like to get back to work. Or, do I need to get a lawyer to sue you for false arrest?” Nick stood straight, crossed his arms and gave them his best, 'don’t mess with me' attitude.
Captain Roberts got to his feet and stuck his hands into his pockets. He remained silent, but continued to study Nick.
Nick could almost hear the man's thoughts. There were tired lines around Roberts's eyes and he felt bad for him. He grunted and quickly pushed sympathy out of his mind. This guy was just as guilty as the rest of them trying to lynch Brad.
Roberts nodded slowly as if he'd made up his mind about something, then said, “I apologize for my over-zealous co-workers. We need to locate these officers and just for your information, I believe in their innocence. If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll drive you back to your office and you can get back to work.”
Fletcher jumped to his feet. “Vince, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I thought that was obvious. I’m returning this man to his shop. Face it, Dean, you got a bum tip and frankly I’m tired of these impulsive tactics of yours. The next time you try to shake down a civilian, you better make sure you have your facts straight. I don’t want this department sued for false arrest.” Vince turned toward the door and didn’t stop until he held the door wide open.
With a sweep of his hand, he said, “Mr. Moran, after you.”
Nick grinned as he waggled his eyebrows at Fletcher, then waltzed out of the room. Maybe this Roberts was an okay kind of guy, but it didn't mean he was going to trust him. Number one on Nick's list was to keep Brad safe from those who'd stab him in the back.
***
On the way back to Nick’s shop Captain Roberts began to open up.
He pulled a piece of paper from his pants pocket and handed it to him. “Come on Nick. I didn’t tell Captain Van Norton that I intercepted this report on your background. I know you’re related to Brad, so you can drop the act.” Roberts slowly pulled out into noon traffic.
Nick stared out the side window. Was he on the level? He glanced at the paper in his hand. Maybe. He could have given this to that Van Norton guy and the little weasel. Okay. He'd listen to the captain. “Why didn’t you say anything to that other moron?” Nick kept his eyes on the sidewalk. He wanted to hear this guy's voice, see if he could detect any kind of conspiracy against Brad.
“Because I believe Brad is correct. I think someone set him up, and his partner. But like them, I just don’t know who. And without Brad and Joe, and whatever information they have, we’re losing ground fast.” The captain blew out a breath as he guided the Crown Victoria around the corner. “I have to get to them before Van Norton does. If you know where Brad is, you better trust me enough to tell me. Because without me, there’s no way anyone is going to give them any support. They are more likely to be shot first with no chance of questions later.”
Vince pulled up to the front of Nick's building, braked, and then switched off the ignition.
“Thanks for the ride. Appreciate it.” Nick jumped from the car and raced into his office. His heart thumped a tattoo in his chest as he spotted the blinking light on his private line. He glanced over his shoulder and felt the blood leave his face. The captain was right behind him.
Nick eyed the red light, then glanced back at Brad's boss. Could he trust him enough to let him know about this? Okay, maybe it was time to take a chance. If Vince wasn't on the up and up, he'd simply tie him up and keep him in a closet or something. Shit! His hand shook as he pressed the button waiting for his phone messages. He sighed with relief to hear that Brad and Chris were safely at their grandfather’s place. He dialed the number then drummed his fingers on the table until he heard a voice on the other end of the line.
“Gramps, I need to talk to Brad. It’s an emergency.” Nick just about pissed himself the minute he heard Brad's voice. Jesus, he was getting too old for all this cloak and dagger crap. “Brad, it’s Nick. I have Captain Roberts here with me. He needs to talk you.” Nick passed the phone to Vince.
“Brad, I want you to know I believe you. More than that, I believe in you. But if I’m going to be of any help, you’ll have to trust me with the truth. I need to know where you are and if Joe’s with you?”
“I want to talk to Nick.”
Vince handed the phone back to him. “Says he wants to talk to you first.”
Nick took the receiver. “What's up?”
“I’m expecting Joe here shortly. The cap wants to know where we are. Don't tell him, bring him here.”
Nick grunted a reply. “How's that little lady getting on with Gramps?”
Brad laughed low. “Like two possums in love. She's fine. I’m
not letting her out of my sight for a minute.”
“Good stay with her.”
“Vince isn't going to believe me, but after some information Chris uncovered, I think I have a good idea who's after us. He's going to have to trust me and do exactly as I tell him.”
“Name it. I'll tell Vince what you need.”
“Fine, I need him to go get an arrest warrant.” Nick relayed the message.
“For who?” Roberts's eyebrows knit together.
“Brad says for Jaime Geiger.”
“It’s already done.” Vince held the paperwork in his hands to show Nick.
“I want Vince to do it himself.” Brad insisted.
“Okay, okay, calm down, lets—”
Tap, tap, tatta-tap.
Nick listened intently, “What’s that?”
“Shit Nick, you and Vince get out of there, someone's got a wire on the line.”
Nick turned to Vince, grabbed his arm, and herded him toward the back door. “We have to get out of here now. Someone is monitoring my phone and just overheard enough to know that Brad's in danger. We have to get to him first—”
Roberts stopped abruptly. “After one more stop.”
“What the hell—Where?” Nick figured he could pound the guy and drag him away if need be.
“The last known address for Jaime Geiger.”
“Are you nuts?”
“He's a key player in this mess, Nick. If we can get to him, we can break him and clear Brad.”
Nick nodded and they piled into his old beat-up Camaro. “Not much to look at but the engine is killer.
While Vince gave Nick directions he prayed they’d arrive in time.
***
The man pulled the clips off the telephone line and shoved them into his pocket. He grinned.
“Gotcha, Maxwell. I know where you're hiding now.”
He hitched up his pants and sauntered out of the alley toward the sedan parked at the curb. All he'd had to do was tap the phone lines and wait and he hadn't been disappointed. He sniffed, proud of himself. Now to head up toward the Sierra’s, catch Maxwell and the broad alone, then take care of business. If the old man got in the way, he'd take care of him, too. Almost at the home stretch now. He wouldn't let anyone or anything stop him from realizing his dream.
“Not a single living soul will stop me,” he muttered, then laughed at his humor. By the time he was through, every living soul would be dead. Ah, life was good when everything fell into place.
The man slipped into his car, jabbed the key into the ignition and fired up the Crown Victoria. To adding insult to injury, he was using a cop car to tie up the loose ends. He laughed louder as the irony hit him. What a high!
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Christine heard the sound of tires on the gravel road and peeked out the front window. She squeaked in pleasure, flung the front door open and ran out onto the porch. A cloud of dust followed Joe's jeep as he drove up the lane and came to a halt in front of the cabin.
He stepped out of the vehicle, waved, and climbed the steps where Christine launched herself into his arms. If Joe was there, their chances improved.
“I am so glad to see you.” She glanced over his shoulder, puzzled not to see Jared. “Where's Jared? He was supposed to be with you. He’s still alive? Right?” With their luck, someone could have snuck into the room and killed him.
Joe gave her a silly grin and her heart slowed to a steady beat. She splayed a hand on her chest and smacked Joe's arm with the other.
“You scared me silly. Is he all right?”
Joe stuck his hands into his jeans pockets “Well, let's just say that he's in good hands.”
Brad exited the house and stepped forward, “I know that smile, Joe. What's going on?”
Christine narrowed her eyes to their twin grins, a sure sign they were up to something.
“It's like this. Vince offered to stay with Jared then take him from the hospital so he could recuperate in the safety of his home. By now, Jared should be comfortably ensconced at Vince's place, with Charlotte watching over him.”
Brad grimaced in good humor, saying, “Good Lord, I can see it now. Poor guy will be overwhelmed with female companionship.”
Christine interrupted, “What do you mean by that?” She bristled as Brad and Joe traded conspiratorial grins, before Brad answered.
“It’s just that Charlotte can’t help herself.”
“So?” she balled her hands into fists and rested them on her hips. Her irritation escalated as the two men burst out laughing, enjoying themselves at Jared’s expense.
“Charlie will have a parade of nurses helping to care for him.”
“I still don’t get it. What’s so amusing?”
Brad added, “By the time we get back I expect Jared to have at least one date. She’s a notorious matchmaker. Hell, she’s responsible for Joe getting hitched last year.”
“What—and what’s her excuse for leaving you alone?” Christine crossed her arms trying to block out her frustrations.
“Not for the lack of trying. When she finds out about us, she's going to throw the biggest party ever.” He kissed her temple.
Christine melted, reveling in the contentment he offered and leaned into him. “Well, at least he’ll be in good hands. Thanks guys, I don’t know what I’d do without Jared?” She leaned her head on Brad's shoulder. His warmth enveloped her, sent her senses reeling. Not exactly the right time for getting cozy, was it?
He winked.
“We’ll know for certain before long. I talked to Vince about an hour ago and after they stopped to check on Jaime Geiger’s whereabouts, Vince is supposed to execute the arrest warrant.” Brad placed his hands into his back pockets and rocked on his heels. “Then once the paperwork is in motion, he’ll head up this way. I’m hoping by the time he gets here they’ll have found Geiger and have him behind bars. The sooner he confesses, the sooner we can go home.”
Joe waved a hand to stop Brad. “Whoa, whoa, back up a minute. Say that again. Who’s coming here?”
“You heard me right the first time, partner.” Brad gave him a sheepish grin.
“Okay. You have some explaining to do.” Joe brow knit, completely perplexed.
“I don’t know all the details myself. I just know Chris and I were talking to my Grandfather when Nick called.”
“Wait a minute. What does Nick have to do with this?”
“I’m not too sure about that either. All I know is that Nick called me from the shop then handed the phone to the Vince. Vince updated me on what’s going down and that he and Nick would be here by tonight.”
“Sheez, this whole situation is becoming crazier by the minute. Not too long ago you accused Vince of being a part of the problem. Now all of a sudden he’s supposed to deliver your reprieve?”
“You don’t have to tell me, I’m as surprised as you are.”
Brad spread his hands, palms up. “Believe me, I still have a few questions for him myself. Like what the hell happened to make him change his mind?”
“I need a drink, you got a beer?”
Brad led the way into the house and toward the kitchen where his grandfather sat nursing a cup of coffee and Christine made the introductions.
The two men eyed one another suspiciously, sizing one another up.
Laughter bubbled in Christine's throat but she held it back. She understood Brady’s fear for his grandson.
The men cautiously shook hands.
“If you two want some beer, you’re going to have to go to the market and pick some up. I don’t drink anymore, so this place is as dry as the Mojave in the summer.”
Brad and Joe headed into town in Joe’s jeep.
Christine straightened the room as they disappeared down the lane and decided to take advantage of Brad’s absence. She had questions and since Brad wasn't about to voluntarily answer them, maybe Brady would. She sat down at the table and toyed with her coffee cup.
“I realize I may be ou
t of line, but can I ask you a couple questions?” She didn’t like the idea of talking to Brad’s grandfather behind his back, but she needed to make sense of a few things.
Brady stood, walked to the coffee pot and picked it up. “Sweetie, if my grandson thought enough of you to bring you here, I ‘spect that’s enough proof that you really care for him.” He made his way back to the table and filled Christine cup, then his.
“That’s just it. I’d like to keep this conversation between us. Do you mind?” She took a cautious sip of the hot brew.
“Anything we discuss won’t go any further than this room.” Brady returned the pot to its holder. “Here, let's go in the living room. Much more comfortable in there.”
Christine nodded and followed him into the spacious room. She liked the homey decorations, from the immense fireplace and leather furniture, to the lace doilies and frilly lampshades. A soft, fluffy afghan made of rusts, browns, and beige lay across the chair Brady sank into. Had his wife crocheted it while they sat in this room, while they talked in that comfortable way couples had when they'd spent a lifetime together?
She wandered around the living room taking in all the memorabilia The room was full of pictures of Brad as a baby, clear up until his graduation picture. She touched his senior picture. The glass was cold to her fingertips. The young man in the picture didn't sport the rough stubble of the man who'd just left. She longed for the feel of his lips on hers, to have him hold her as he did the night before. She ached for his touch then shook such thoughts away, turned around to speak, only to find Brady grinning like fool. The heat of embarrassment flooded her cheeks.
“I know that look, young lady. That’s the look of love. So, now that I have all the answers I need, how about tellin’ me what’s on your mind?” He set his cup on the end table and folded his arms across his chest.
“Boy, Brad wasn’t kidding? There’s no getting anything past you.” She sat on the edge of the couch. Her cup nestled in her hands, thankful for the warmth it held.
“Sweetie, I love that boy as if he were my own, not just my grandson. He’s had a hell of a life and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. I ‘spect there’s more to that abridged story he told me today. Am I right?” He bowed his head and sent her a challenge over the top of his glasses.
