by Terri Reed
Along with the fact she wanted to advance her own career.
But she’d rather think about the more altruistic reason she was diving headlong into Jordan Jameson’s life. His murderer needed to be caught and justice served. She and everyone else in New York would sleep better knowing a killer was off the streets.
A shiver traipsed down her spine, reminding her of the terrifying event she suffered in the subway. She rubbed at the dirt streaked across her skirt. The skin underneath protested. In fact, her whole body ached from the impact of the fall now that the shock had eased.
She really didn’t want to contemplate why someone had pushed her off the subway platform. Better to chalk it up to a onetime thing than to live in fear. She refused to believe the incident had anything to do with her inquiries into Jordan’s life.
With Frosty on Carter’s left and Rachelle on his right, they walked away from the subway station and onto the sidewalk. This was her neighborhood. The residual fear and stress keeping her muscles bunched tight throughout her body began to melt away like butter on her grandma’s biscuits. They neared the mini market where a slim man in his sixties swept the front walkway.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lee,” she called with a wave.
Mr. Lee looked up and smiled at her. “Ah, Miss Rachelle.” His gaze narrowed at Carter and Frosty. “Are you okay?”
“Perfect,” she replied. “You?”
“Well, thank you.” He hurried inside the store.
They headed down the street with the late afternoon traffic buzzing by. She could feel Carter’s curious gaze. She glanced at him sideways. “My apartment is only a few blocks from here. I stop in occasionally for fruit or milk.” Her own curiosity prompted her to ask, “Do you two always receive that sort of reaction? I noticed on the subway that many people were nervous with you two aboard.”
He shrugged. “It happens. Some people get antsy around authority figures. We’re trained to discern the difference between a nervous Nellie and a real crook.” He peered at her. “How did you end up in New York?”
“Who doesn’t want to live in New York?” She wasn’t about to tell him she had applied and accepted the job at NYC Weekly as a way to escape her family. “My hope is to write something that will be picked up by a major news source and lead to a job with them. And this New York job seems the best possible place for that to happen.”
“Why journalism?”
She shrugged. “When it was time for college, my maternal grandmother suggested journalism.” She affected a prim voice. “‘Turn your rebelliousness to usefulness,’ was her advice. I took it.”
“She sounds like a wise woman.”
Sadness slipped over her. “She was. She passed on while I was in college.”
“I’m sure she would have been proud of you,” he commented.
At the corner, they waited for the light to turn green before crossing.
“Thank you for saying so.” She didn’t add that her father had said the opposite when she’d made the decision to leave Georgia.
The walk signal appeared, and she stepped out onto the street.
The squeal of tires on the hot pavement filled the air. A car careened around the corner, aiming straight at her. Her lungs froze. Her body refused to move. Carter’s hand wrapped around her biceps and yanked her back onto the sidewalk mere seconds before the brown sedan whizzed past, barely missing her.
She put a hand over her beating heart. “Crazy driver.”
Carter regarded her with an intensity that set the fine hairs on her nape to high alert. He used the radio on his shoulder to report the incident and the fact the car’s license plate had been removed.
“Come on.” He ushered her quickly across the street to a three-story brick building with square windows and an American flag waving over the entrance. Carter stopped to open the glass doors of the public entrance.
“Would there be time for a tour?” She didn’t like the way her voice quaked. The fright from nearly being run over still zoomed through her veins. Having her life flash before her eyes twice in one day made her nerves raw.
Carter’s mouth lifted at one corner. “Yes, I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Excited by the prospect of seeing the inner sanctuary of the K-9 Unit, she followed him inside. Carter and Frosty patiently waited while she went through security and then received a visitor’s badge from the front desk officer sitting behind a large U-shaped desk.
Having never been inside a New York Police Department precinct, she found it fascinating. The lobby had a warmth to it she hadn’t expected. Pictures of dogs and their handlers gave the beige walls life. The phones rang incessantly, keeping the receptionist busy.
Joining Carter and Frosty near a set of stairs, she observed, “Much different than the small police station back home.”
Carter led her up a flight of stairs. “Really? Where is back home and why do you know what the inside of the police station looks like?”
“Vidalia, Georgia. As to why...” A flush heated her cheeks. “I was a bit of a rebellious scamp as a child. I was caught picking flowers in Mrs. Finch’s garden. My father thought he’d scare some sense into me by dragging me down to the sheriff’s station and demanding that Sheriff Potter put me in jail. I think he wanted to frighten me straight as it were.”
Pausing, Carter stared at her. “Seriously? The sheriff didn’t...”
“No. He told me to apologize to Mrs. Finch and he never wanted to see me inside the station house again. He never did.”
“Hmm.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he was hmming about.
They entered a large space dotted with cubicles for the officers and their dogs. At the far end were enclosed offices. Carter led her to his desk, where he locked his weapon in the bottom drawer. Frosty lay down on a large round fluffy bed underneath the desk corner.
“Can you tell me now how Frosty got his name?”
Carter hitched a hip on the edge of his desk. “He’s named after William Frost. He was an officer with the NYPD back in the ’80s. He was murdered in a gang-related shooting.”
A pang of sorrow touched her. “That’s so sad. Do all the dogs get their names from fallen officers?”
“They do, in some variation. I chose Frost rather than William because he was all white like a blast of winter frost.”
“What breed is he?”
“German shepherd.”
“Really? I’ve never seen one like him before.”
“The white version of the breed comes out of Canada.”
“That’s funny. The Great White North.” She wrote that down. “You said Frost, but you call him Frosty.”
“Ellie, my daughter, liked Frosty better. And it stuck.”
“What a pretty name. Ellie. Your daughter sounds charming.”
“She is.” He looked past her, and his features visibly changed, taking on a soft tender look that had her heart thumping against her rib cage.
She turned to see a blond-haired, blue-eyed pixie streaking toward them.
The little girl jumped into her father’s arms. “Daddy!” she squealed.
She gave Carter big, noisy kisses on both cheeks.
Carter’s deep rumble of a laugh hit Rachelle like an acorn from her parents’ oak tree, digging into her psyche and making her want to hear more.
Holding his beautiful little girl on his hip, Carter smiled at Rachelle. “This is Ellie.” The child regarded her with open curiosity. “My pride and joy.”
There was no doubt about that. “Hi, Ellie, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Honey,” Carter addressed his daughter, “this is Ms. Clark. She’s a reporter.”
The way he emphasized the word reporter had Rachelle stiffening her spine. Wariness entered the little girl’s shining eyes. “She’s one of those.”
Rachelle tried not to take offense. Clearly the Jamesons didn’t hold reporters in high regard.
“All right, you two,” a deep masculine voice from behind Rachelle admonished. “No need to scare our guest.”
Rachelle spun around to find herself face-to-face with Chief Noah Jameson. She’d seen his picture in the New York Times, as well as her own paper on numerous occasions over the past several months.
Dark circles were evident beneath his green eyes. She could only imagine the stress of losing one brother and taking over a high-profile position amid controversy.
Rachelle scribbled down her observations, her pink pen flying over the pages of her flowered journal.
“I like your book,” Ellie said. “Can I see it?”
Rachelle clutched the notebook to her chest and gave a nervous laugh. “These are my work notes. I’m doing an article on your father. And Frosty.”
Carter set Ellie’s feet on the floor. “Okay, munchkin, I need a moment with Uncle Noah.”
He glanced at Rachelle. “I need to tell Noah about today. All of it.”
Rachelle swallowed back the sudden jump of residual fear. “We’ll be fine here.”
She looked at Ellie and was a bit disconcerted by the way the girl was assessing her, much as her father had done.
As the two men walked away Ellie asked, “What happened to your skirt? It’s dirty.”
Smoothing a hand over the mark, she replied, “I fell.” She didn’t add she’d been nearly run down in the street. And almost flattened by a train.
Ellie slipped her hand into Rachelle’s. “Is my daddy helping you?”
Carter certainly had his hands full with this little perceptive child. “Yes. Yes, he is.”
And she couldn’t begin to express her gratitude to him for not only saving her life but also for being a path to furthering her career.
“Are you married?”
Taken aback by the little girl’s question, Rachelle glanced up to see Carter had paused midstep as if he’d heard his daughter’s query. His lips twisted in a rueful grimace before he turned and walked into Noah’s office, closing the door behind him.
Smothering a grin, Rachelle shook her head at the little girl. “No, I’m not.” And she had no plans to be for the foreseeable future.
Ellie’s eyes lit up. “That’s good.”
Deciding it was best not to pursue that comment, Rachelle asked, “School must be starting soon, right?”
The little girl released Rachelle’s hand and hopped onto her father’s desk chair. With the heel of her hand on the desk, she sent the chair spinning. “Yep. In a couple weeks. I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Why not?”
Ellie stopped spinning and stared at her. “It’s school.”
As if that should explain everything. Rachelle laughed. “Well, there is that. But aren’t you excited to see all your friends and have recess and art? Art was always my favorite subject. I could get messy and not get in trouble.” Though with budget cuts she wasn’t sure art was taught anymore in public schools.
Ellie resumed her spinning. “Oh yes. I’m excited to see Kelly and Greta. I’ll be in Mrs. Lenny’s class. We’ll get to do a garden project. My daddy said I could bring butterflies.”
“He did, did he? That’s fabulous. You have a good daddy.”
“Yep.” Ellie stopped the chair to peer at her. “He’d be a good catch, as my grandma says.”
Uh-oh. Was she trying to play matchmaker?
THREE
Not going to happen. What to say that wouldn’t offend or be rude? Rachelle settled for, “Interesting.”
Ignoring Ellie’s assessing gaze, Rachelle busied herself visually memorizing everything on Carter’s desk. Everything in its place. Pens and pencils corralled in an NYPD mug. Reports stacked with clean edges on one side of the desktop while a dormant computer screen and keyboard took up the other half. No dust bunnies, either.
A family photo of the Jamesons sitting next to the computer caught her attention. Recently taken, by the looks of it. Carter and Ellie, much as the little girl appeared now, were crouched down in the front row, while Carter’s three brothers, including the murdered Jordan, stood behind them. Snuggled up to Jordan was a pretty blonde woman. No doubt Jordan’s widow, Katie.
Next to the Jameson family photo sat a gilded framed wedding photo of a young-looking Carter standing with his radiant bride. Ellie got her blond hair and delicate features from her mother.
A pang tugged at Rachelle’s heart. No wonder Carter wanted Ellie to have butterflies in her life. They represented renewal and hope. “You can’t have a garden without butterflies.”
Ellie pushed off the desk and sent the chair whirling in a circle. “I have some carrot seeds that Aunt Katie got for me.”
“That was nice of her.”
“She said I should contribute to the vegetables, too.”
A big word for a little girl. No doubt she was repeating what she’d heard. “Katie’s a smart woman. Do you see her often?”
Ellie stopped spinning again. The corners of her sweet little mouth pinched inward. “She lives with us. She’s very sad because Uncle Jordy went to Heaven.”
Heart aching for this family’s loss, Rachelle said, gently, “That’s totally understandable. I’m sure you’re sad, too.”
The girl’s eyes misted. She nodded. “I miss Uncle Jordy. He gave the best tickles. My daddy is sad, too. He misses Uncle Jordy and...because my mommy went to Heaven.” Ellie’s gaze was on the wedding photo.
Rachelle blinked to repel the sudden moisture gathering in her own eyes. “Do you remember her?”
Ellie shook her head. “No. Mommy died right after I was born.”
Flooded with sympathy for this young little girl and her father, Rachelle didn’t quite know what else to say. What could she say? The little girl had experienced more heartbreak than most people in her short time on earth. “So, does Frosty live with you guys?”
Ellie sent the chair spinning once more. “He sure does. Also Scotty—he’s Uncle Noah’s dog—and Eddie, Uncle Zach’s dog. But Uncle Zach and Eddie moved out.” Her little brow furrowed. “Snapper lived downstairs with Aunt Katie and Uncle Jordan, but we don’t know where he is right now.”
Rachelle remembered the name from the news reports. Snapper was Chief Jordan Jameson’s missing dog.
“Now Mutt and Jeff live with us, too.” Ellie giggled. “Those aren’t their real names. That’s just what Dad calls them.”
“Your uncles?”
“No, silly.” Ellie waved a hand in a swatting motion. “The puppies. They are both girls, but Daddy still calls them by boy names. They are with us to be—” She paused and appeared to concentrate as she said, “Socialized.” She grinned. “But they’re gonna be police dogs just like Frosty and Scotty. Frosty’s not too fond of them. They get on his nerves. He growls, but they don’t care. They just run right on top of him. Scotty’s better with them. He just walks away when they bug him.”
“Sounds entertaining.” She would like to see the dogs and puppies together. Rachelle glanced at one dog in question. Frosty looked so peaceful lying there with his snout on top of his crossed paws. He opened one eye as if he sensed her attention.
Awareness cascaded over her flesh and she turned to find Carter approaching. The man exuded vitality even from five feet away. She mentally shook off the odd sensation.
“Ellie, sweetie,” Carter said. “Can you hang with Frosty for a moment while I show Rachelle something?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Ellie crawled off the chair and flopped down on the round bed on the floor, practically lying on top of the dog. Frosty’s ears twitched, his tail thumped, but otherwise he made no move.
Amazed at how calm and loving the dog was with Ellie, Rachelle asked, “Are you sure he’s a police dog?”
&nb
sp; “He can be fierce when he needs to be,” Carter told her.
She wasn’t sure she believed his assurance. “If you say so.”
“He has a really good track record of taking down criminals. He’s a multipurpose trained dog. Part of our job with the transit bureau is public relations.”
“Like with the little girl and her father today.” Rachelle had been surprised to see the child petting the working dog when she’d approached Carter.
“Exactly.” He cupped her elbow. “Come with me.”
She sucked in a breath at the unexpected contact but forced herself to focus on the excitement of being given a glimpse of the rest of the precinct. Anticipating a tour of the facility, she was surprised by their first stop. He led her into a room filled with video monitors. A curvy female officer with long, curly blond hair tied back with a rubber band sat reviewing the screens. The woman turned to regard them with hazel eyes behind huge framed glasses. “Hey, Carter. What’s going on?” Her gaze raked over Rachelle.
Uncomfortable beneath the other woman’s curiosity, Rachelle fought the urge to fiddle with her purse strap or fix her hair. Best never to let anyone see a weakness. She lifted her chin, met her gaze and smiled.
“Hi, Danielle,” Carter said. “This is Rachelle Clark. Rachelle, Danielle Abbott, our computer tech.”
“Nice to meet you,” Rachelle said, then winced inwardly at how her accent had thickened. It did that sometimes when she was nervous.
“Likewise.” Danielle’s curiosity sparkled in her hazel eyes.
“I need a favor,” Carter said.
“Sure.” Danielle’s gaze snapped back to Carter. “Anything.”
“Can you access the MTA database and bring up the video surveillance from the 81st and Museum of Natural History subway platform?”
“Of course. We have access to all the five boroughs’ databases.”
As Danielle’s fingers flew on the keyboard, Carter told her the time frame he needed to review.
Rachelle’s heart rate ticked up as she realized he wanted to see the push that had caused her fall. Steeling herself against reliving the nightmare, she hovered over Carter’s shoulder.
