A brief reflection and then: “Okay.”
She had to get Russ and the children out of danger before Vince showed up or Flanders decided events were taking too long. And before he realized Keri must still be on the premises.
“Listen, I used to work with Vince,” Rachel improvised. “We were pretty good friends. Very good friends, if you follow my meaning.”
He leered. “Yeah, I heard he had a taste for police babes.”
“He’ll be upset when he discovers you’ve got your hands on me.” She deliberately used a phrase with sexual connotations, to reinforce the idea of her involvement with Vince. “You can free these other people. They don’t mean anything to him.”
Russ, who’d been admirably controlled, spoke in a low tone. “You don’t have to do this.”
She refused to address him directly, keeping her gaze on Flanders. “I’m not crazy about Vince, either. He doesn’t treat women too well—maybe you heard about that, too.”
“Yeah, I read the news on the Internet. That police babe nailed him to a tree.” He obviously exulted in his enemy’s downfall.
Good. They were establishing rapport, as she’d been taught to do in Police Academy. Gain his trust. Persuade him you’re on his side. “Vince still believes he can win me back. Sent me a nauseating e-mail just a few weeks ago about how much he misses me. I’m your ideal bargaining chip.”
She could see the man feverishly reviewing the situation. “If I let these others go, they’ll report me. The place’ll be swarming with cops.”
Rachel addressed Russ in an impersonal manner. “Sir, tell the dispatcher to keep the area clear. If Mr. Flanders so much as glimpses another uniform, it’ll jeopardize my safety.”
She meant what she’d said about keeping other cops out of sight. She’d radioed in her location, so it wouldn’t take long for backup to reach them.
Russ shook his head. “You can’t expect me to leave you here.”
Rachel sidestepped the personal implication. “Sir, escort the children out the front door, like the man told you.” Flanders had given no such order, of course, but with luck he’d forgotten that. “We’ll both thank you not to interfere.”
Sensing resistance in every fiber of Russ’s body, she prayed for him to acquiesce. For everyone’s sake, he had to put aside his instinct to defend her.
Lauren broke the deadlock. “Daddy, can we go home?”
Reminded of the children, he released a long breath. “Okay, sweetie.”
Flanders stepped out of their way. “Remember, if I see another uniform, it’ll look like a war zone in here.”
Rachel willed Russ to hurry. She didn’t want him or the girls anywhere near the place when Vince arrived, because the situation was almost certain to escalate.
Skirting the staircase, the threesome moved toward the exit far too slowly for Rachel’s taste. Her fists clenched as Russ turned the knob.
His flinch told her he’d spotted someone outside. To keep Flanders occupied, she started chattering. “What shall I say to Vince when he gets here? We ought to have a plan. Or would you rather do all the talking?”
Could be almost anyone out there. A salesman with bad timing, a nosy neighbor—or Vince.
“I’ll talk. You stick a sock in it.” Flanders paid scant notice to Russ as he and the children hustled out.
“Gotcha,” she answered with feigned nonchalance. “I’ll just take my lead from you. So how do you think you’ll deal with Borrego?”
During his rambling reply, a shadow filled the entrance. She couldn’t ID the newcomer against the bright light, and didn’t dare tip off Flanders by staring.
Behind him, the shadow jerked its head at her. She interpreted that to mean, Get out of the line of fire.
In a split-second move, Rachel hit the floor, curling to reach for her spare gun. Flanders swiveled. A shot roared, followed rapidly by two more. She wasn’t sure who’d fired, but her captor collapsed, his gun skittering across the wood surface and blood spraying the furniture and walls. A few nasty bits hit Rachel, and her ears rang. Despite the shock, she drew her gun and stayed in a crouch until she recognized the figure approaching from the entry as Vince.
“You okay?” he asked.
Holstering the weapon, she moved to the body on the floor. “Yes. You?” She collected both weapons and cuffed the suspect’s hands before feeling for a pulse. Nothing.
“Right as rain.” He called a quick remark out the door, presumably to Russ.
Rachel got to her feet, ignoring the shakiness in her knees. “Thank you.” While the D.A. would undoubtedly investigate, she considered the shooting an obvious matter of self-defense.
“Glad I took him out,” Vince answered briskly. “Where are Keri and my grandkids?”
“Hiding in the utility room, I think. Wait! We need to secure the premises.” First priority was to search for anyone Flanders might have injured.
“Yeah, well, I’ll start there.”
Rachel phoned dispatch with an update and request for an ambulance, in case the perp could be revived. Then, gun in hand, she circled through the living room and kitchen. While it seemed unlikely Flanders had an accomplice, a cop should take nothing for granted. She was still furious with herself for getting caught off guard at the door.
From the utility room, Rachel heard happy cries that indicated a reunion. After confirming that Keri and the other kids were okay, and instructing them to exit via the garage, she and Vince cleared the upstairs. No problem there.
He went out to shepherd everyone away from the house. Rachel took a post at the doorway as sirens approached.
Producing a notepad from her pocket, she tried to write down every detail she remembered since arriving at the scene, but her hand shook so badly she had to stop. She’d never been involved in a fatal shooting before.
A few minutes ago, that pathetic figure on the floor had been a living, breathing man. She wondered whether he’d truly suffered an injustice eight years ago. Most likely he’d exaggerated his grievance. With Flanders dead, she doubted anyone would pursue the matter.
Outside, emergency vehicles swarmed onto the street. Amid the stir, Rachel caught sight of Russ waiting on the sidewalk with the girls. His eyes warmed as their gazes met, but she also read anger in the twist of his mouth.
Being placed in jeopardy played havoc with people’s emotions. And while she’d trained physically and mentally for a confrontation like this, he’d stumbled into it blind. Rachel wished duty allowed her to commiserate, but they couldn’t discuss their experiences until they’d been thoroughly debriefed.
She sank onto the porch steps, utterly weary. The brush with death made her long with all her soul to be surrounded by Russ’s strength and gentleness, yet today must have confirmed his worst fears about how much danger she ran.
In spite of everything, she loved this job. Was grateful that she’d been able to gain a measure of the suspect’s trust and secure the release of three hostages and that she’d retained her composure.
She wished that the man she loved could grasp how much this occupation suited her. And how desperately others, especially children, needed the protection that only people like her could provide.
RUSS STRUGGLED to contain his irritation as the evening dragged on. At the station, he had to endure both his own interview and Lauren’s. For heaven’s sake, the guilty party lay dead. Why did the innocent have to keep suffering?
He glimpsed Rachel a couple of times but wasn’t allowed to speak to her. That infuriated him further. Technically, they were still engaged, and they’d gone through hell that afternoon. They should at least be allowed to comfort each other.
At last an officer drove him and Lauren home. How strange, he thought, that except for yellow tape on the Sommerses’ front door, the neighborhood revealed no sign of trauma. But then, all the drama had taken place indoors.
A phone message from Keri alerted him that she’d arranged to supervise the children at Lisa’s home the followin
g day. She apologized for the disturbance and assured him—as she’d presumably done with the other parents—that she’d arranged for a psychologist to drop by in the afternoon to talk with the children.
Russ managed to calmly fix macaroni and cheese for his daughter and tuck her into bed. He assured her that the bad man would never bother anybody again.
Nestled against the pillow, she looked small and vulnerable. “Is Rachel okay?”
“Yes. She’ll be home later.” By then perhaps he’d sort out his turbulent reaction. “I’ll make sure she peeks in on you.”
“Okay. Don’t forget! Even if I’m sleeping.”
“I won’t.” The child clearly required further comforting. “Are you scared to go to day care? I can find a new place if you’d like. And you don’t have to go to school tomorrow, either.” He didn’t like to postpone appointments, but his daughter’s well-being came first.
Lauren issued a firm, “No, Daddy! I like Keri!”
“Okay, honey.”
“And I want to go to school.” She held up the action figure she’d clutched through the whole experience. “Officer Bud is looking forward to Show and Tell. He was very brave. Just like Rachel.”
He was very brave. Just like Rachel. As Russ kissed his daughter good-night and switched off the light, her words rang in his brain.
The stillness of the house yielded to vivid impressions, almost as sharp as when he’d first experienced them: the shock when, receiving no response at the door, he’d tried the handle and walked straight into the sights of a gunman; the anxiety as Keri fled with some of the children; and the sharp blow to his cheek when he blocked their captor’s pursuit. The welt still ached, although he’d declined medical treatment.
The gunman had shouted curses, sending Russ’s heart rate into hyperdrive as he braced for a volley of bullets. Their captor’s agitation had barely subsided before he glanced out the window and went to confront Rachel.
Watching the man’s finger hover near the trigger, Russ had realized that he himself was powerless to save the people he loved. That had been the most unnerving development of all.
The thought that Rachel ran this sort of risk for a living tore him apart. On any given day, she might deliberately tackle a situation any sensible person would shun. By wearing that uniform, she invited every nutcase, enraged ex-spouse or cop hater to turn his rage on her.
Russ didn’t understand why this job appealed to her. Sure, he was glad that somebody was willing to serve the public, and Rachel had been free to choose while she was single. But not if she were his wife and Lauren’s mother. How could she put her family through this?
He longed to hear her car halt in front of the house and her footsteps approaching. To sweep her against him and bury his face in her hair. To know she was safe. The thought of enduring such fear again—let alone repeatedly—seemed intolerable.
She had to acknowledge both how much they meant to each other and how precious their future was. Far too precious for her to continue laying her life on the line for strangers.
SEVERAL DAYS OF PAID LEAVE and mandatory counseling were what had been prescribed to Rachel. She appreciated the department’s response to her ordeal, but after hours of questioning, she’d have preferred a few throat lozenges.
To complicate matters, outside the station she ran a gauntlet of cameras, microphones and nosy news types from L.A., mostly seeking scandalous tidbits regarding the former chief. How did these hornets discover so quickly where to swarm? she wondered, when a group of them caught her departing through the station’s rear exit.
They didn’t seem the least interested in Baldy the drugstore robber, who’d been apprehended cowering behind a rack of wigs. On the second floor of the doctors’ building, he’d taken refuge in a business that provided prostheses and head coverings for cancer patients. Except for the disruption of their afternoon, the structure’s tenants had suffered no harm.
The story of the hour was former Chief Borrego’s shooting of a man who’d taken hostages at his daughter’s home. All evening, the station’s TV set had rotated among channels blaring the latest reports. Some were wildly inaccurate. A claim that the gunman had interrupted Keri in a tryst with a lover had to be quickly retracted, as was a statement that he’d held a gun to a little girl’s head.
Community Liaison Officer Derek Reed had helped Lyons prepare a statement. Earlier, the chief had read it on camera, grimacing once or twice as flashes went off in his face.
Pending the conclusion of ballistics tests, he’d said, preliminary information indicated that Vince Borrego had fired three times. Neither the suspect nor Officer Byers had discharged a weapon. Lyons credited Rachel with keeping Flanders calm and with arranging the release of three hostages.
Questioned about the intruder’s purpose, he’d simply cited Vince’s role in the original case. That seemed reason enough for revenge. Of course, Rachel had disclosed the entire story to Jorge Alvarez, the robbery-homicide detective investigating Flanders’s death.
“What did Flanders tell you about his motives?” demanded a man with a microphone. “And why did Borrego arrive at the scene before your backup?”
“No comment.” Rachel waved to Tracy, who’d once written a nice piece about the tutoring center. In the uneven glare of lights, the newswoman’s brunette locks appeared auburn. “Did you dye your hair? Love the color!”
“Uh, thanks.” During the momentary confusion that followed this remark, Rachel cut between the ranks and escaped to her car.
She was so tired she had to fight drowsiness on the drive home. But she snapped out of her stupor when Russ hurried out to her car and swept her against his soft V-neck sweater. He smelled wonderful, a blend of masculinity and—was that macaroni and cheese?
“Starving,” Rachel announced when he released her.
“You missed dinner?” He touched the small of her back as they went into the house.
“Couple slices of cold pizza.” That had been—when?—hours ago. In the kitchen, she found a pot of leftover pasta and dug in while standing. “Fabulous.”
He set a plate for her at the table. “I promised you’d check on Lauren. Would you mind doing that and then joining me here?”
“No problem.” She complied while scooping out the last of the macaroni with a fork. She found the girl sleeping peacefully.
When she returned, Russ had provided toast and butter along with a sliced apple. He poured them each a glass of milk and sat down to watch her eat, his slight smile revealing nothing.
Coming up for air, she noticed a lined pad on the table and recognized his jagged handwriting. “You journaling your thoughts? Good therapy.”
“This is about you.” He tapped the paper in front of him. “Here’s what I came up with.”
“For what?” She decided against fixing another round of toast. Overeating under stress was a cop’s curse.
Russ cleared his throat. “You volunteer to tutor children. And you’re great with kids.”
“Thanks.” Why was he mentioning those things now?
“You hate the idea of being tied to a desk,” he continued. “Also, you want to help others.”
Rachel was getting an uncomfortable suspicion about where this line of reasoning might lead. “So?”
“The community can always use gifted teachers.” Russ didn’t pause for a response. “The continuation high school provides an opportunity for teenagers who don’t fit into the regular program. They need adults who can dish out tough love, who can discipline them without breaking a sweat. I checked on the Internet and, with your college degree, you could get temporary certification if you enrolled in the appropriate education courses.”
Disappointment destroyed what remained of her appetite. “Russ, I’m not a teacher.”
“Surely after today…”
If anything, today had reinforced her belief in her calling. “I had a chance to help save lives. At the very least, I spared the girls from witnessing a nasty scene.”
That was true. “It got kind of hairy in there,” she admitted.
He leaned forward eagerly. “Just think, no more rotating shifts. You’d have holidays and summers off to be with Lauren. And teachers save lives in their own way.”
How tempting—for somebody else. Clearly, Russ had invested a lot of effort in trying to arrange their future as a family. But what cut like a knife was that he sought it with a person who wasn’t really Rachel.
Tears smarted beneath her lids. “This isn’t going to work, Russ.”
“Sleep on it. Tomorrow…”
She waved him to silence. “I mean, the whole thing. Not just teaching, but you and me. Fundamentally, we’re wrong for each other. Always were, but I didn’t see it before. I’m sorry.”
Her vision had gone so blurry she couldn’t read his expression. Was he frustrated? Hurt? Furious?
His hand slammed onto the table, knocking the pad aside. “I’m trying to fix this and you won’t even consider my ideas!”
“What if I demanded you give up medicine?” she retorted. “This is who I am.”
“A woman who doesn’t care about her loved ones?” Anger hoarsened his voice. “Or maybe I’m assuming too much. You’re pretty quick to throw us out the window.”
“For Pete’s sake!” As if he hadn’t been the one who booted her out of bed in the first place! “You swore I was the type of woman who appealed to you. Except, now that push comes to shove, you expect me to change into something I’m not. What kind of woman do you want? Little Miss Compliant, who’ll rework her personality to suit Dr. Wonderful?” She clamped her jaws shut before more hurtful words poured out.
Russ stared at her. Finally, stiffly, he said, “You’re right. We don’t suit each other, Rachel. Thank you for pointing it out.”
He grabbed his wallet and keys and slammed out of the kitchen. She sat, stunned, listening to his car start in the garage and pull away.
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