The Rookie's Assignment

by Valerie Hansen

  “I know,” the doctor said with a lopsided smile. “He phoned me, too.”

  “He didn’t trust me?”

  “Now, don’t go getting irate. He was just worried about you and wanted to make sure I was available tonight. I’d have been here sooner but I had to get an emergency sitter for the twins.”

  “You woke Irene? Oh, dear. She needs her rest. She gets up so early every morning.”

  Her brother laughed. “I didn’t call Irene. As a matter of fact, Dad was available to watch the kids as soon as he’d sealed up Nick’s apartment.”

  “So, you heard what happened?”

  “Yes. Sounds like you had a rough evening.”

  “The first part was fine. It just didn’t end well.” She shivered. “Right now I could use a cup of that special hot cocoa Dad used to fix us.”

  Charles chuckled. “I had to make him promise not to wake up my kids to feed that to them.”

  “He probably did it, anyway. He does love children.”

  “Good thing, since he had so many.”

  “Yes, but since I was the last, I guess I cured them.”

  “Or they figured they could never do better.”

  “Thanks.” She blinked to focus after the brightness of his penlight had made spots dance in front of her eyes. “My head feels okay but the side of my face is pretty sore. Think I’ll have a shiner?”

  “Probably. Are you looking forward to it?”

  “Maybe a little. It’s a badge of honor. Of course, it would count for more if I had actually won the fight.”

  “Unarmed and against a man twice your size?”

  “Hey, it’s possible. Not probable but possible. I would have done better if I hadn’t been wearing those stupid fancy shoes. I’m sorry I missed my chance to stomp him with one of my spiked heels.”

  “Probably just as well. Dad showed me a picture of Carlton. He’s a nasty-looking character.”

  “He smelled worse than he looked, tonight. I could tell he’d been drinking, which may be why I was able to land a good kick. I imagine his reflexes were hampered.”

  “Does your head hurt right now?”

  “No. Any idea why I keeled over? I’d hate to make a practice of it.”

  “It could have been because of low blood sugar. When was the last time you ate?”

  “Hmm. Lunch, maybe. I had a couple sips of punch at the Valentine’s party but I couldn’t eat a bite.”

  “Too nervous?”

  “Maybe.” Watching her big brother’s kind eyes, she suspected that he understood, although if she were seeking a family confidant she’d rather it be Fiona.

  “Be careful,” Charles warned. “There’s something about Delfino that bothers me.”

  Keira chuckled wryly. “Funny. He said the same thing about you.”

  “That’s not funny. At least not lately.” Gathering up his medical equipment, he started to pull on his jacket. “It’s bad enough that folks like Burke Hennessy keep bad-mouthing me. My income really dropped off, too.”

  “Then don’t forget to charge us for this house call,” Keira reminded him, hoping the teasing would help lift his spirits. “And remember what Pastor Larch said. ‘This, too, shall pass.’”

  “The sooner the better.”

  Keira noticed that his usual slight limp seemed more exaggerated as he crossed to the door, probably because he was overtired. She hated that he’d been wounded but considering what might have happened to him while he was serving overseas, he’d probably gotten off easy.

  “Lock this door behind me,” Charles ordered. “I’ll send Dad right home so you won’t be alone for long.”

  “I’m not afraid. Besides, Irene’s here.”

  “A lot of good she’d be if somebody tried to break in,” her brother said.

  “Nobody’s going to break in. Carlton was out to get Nick, not me. I’m going to lock up, then go take a long, hot shower to soothe my sore muscles.”

  “You’re sure there’s no more dizziness?”

  “None. Not a smidgen. Now that I’m barefoot my equilibrium is perfect. I don’t know how any woman can stand wearing those torturous high heels all the time.”

  Judging by the flash of pain that crossed his face for an instant, Keira assumed her careless reference to fashion had caused him to think of Kathleen, his former wife. The family tended to agree that the woman’s departure from Fitzgerald Bay in search of the romantic life of an artist was for the best. It had just been hard to watch poor Charles suffer after she’d deserted him. He’d been alone since shortly after the twins’ birth.

  For a time, a few members of the family had wondered if nanny Olivia Henry might eventually fill that void in his life but, sadly, that was not to be.

  Keira reached out and gave her brother a hug as he was leaving. “Thanks for coming by. I was afraid Nick was going to insist they throw me into an ambulance and head for the nearest E.R. I think he might have if you hadn’t been so handy.”

  “Glad to be of service. I’ll phone you in the morning. In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to stay awake a few more hours for safety’s sake. If you have any strange symptoms or feel even a little bit sick, call me immediately. Day or night. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  In parting, she gave him the same kind of silly salute she usually reserved for their father and was rewarded with a snappy marine salute in return.

  Keira closed the door, locked it and leaned against it. If the time ever came for her to choose a mate, she planned to choose more wisely than Charles had. She wanted a marriage like the one her parents had enjoyed, or like Fiona and Jimmy had shared. There was happiness to be found out there in the world. All she had to do was avoid making any huge mistakes.

  Her ensuing thoughts immediately focused on Nick Delfino. That man was as hardheaded as she was. It would probably be difficult for them to get along while sharing the same profession, yet there was something special about him that intrigued her.

  She knew—she just knew—if she delved deep enough, she would find out he was even more perfect than she already believed.

  And, as soon as her father was through with his silly investigation of the package of narcotics Carlton had planted in Nick’s apartment, she was going to insist he apologize for ever doubting Nick’s innocence.

  The hot shower had refreshed Keira. The bologna sandwich on wheat bread she’d wolfed down hadn’t hurt, either.

  Aiden had checked on her when he’d come home but he hadn’t tried to chat before bidding her a terse good-night.

  Keira wasn’t any more eager to talk to him than he’d been to face her. She figured he’d made himself scarce because he’d been worried that she’d start another argument or try to continue their previous one. She had no such plans. Not yet, anyway.

  If she was going to argue, she needed to have all the facts and be on firm ground first. The best way she could think of doing that, without actually visiting the station, was via the internet. Police records might not be open to her without proper authorization but nothing said she couldn’t search newspaper archives. In a way, Nick had given her that idea when he’d asked her to grab his laptop.

  A sweatshirt over matching pants kept her cozy. Legs crossed, she sat on her bed with her laptop open in front of her. The first thing she did was check emails in case one of her siblings had sent news of Carlton’s capture. Sadly, there was no such message.

  Clicking on her favorites list, she located the Boston newspapers, then did an archive search using Carlton’s name.

  There was plenty of information to choose from. Keira scanned a few of the most recent articles, then decided to skip the rest of those in favor of checking farther back.

  That was when the search got really interesting.

  Her eyes narrowed as she peered at the screen, paging down quickly, then backtracking to soak up more details. There was a photo of Carlton looking as mean as ever. He was in cuffs and being hauled off to jail by several officers whose faces
were not familiar.

  In the back of the shot, however, a man in street clothes hid his face behind a folded newspaper while a reporter shoved a microphone at him.

  Keira clicked on a smaller picture that led to a video and turned up the volume while it loaded.

  “We’re here on Boston Common reporting on an undercover sting operation involving some of the city’s finest,” the newsman said. “I’m speaking with a lieutenant from the Internal Affairs Division who prefers to remain anonymous. Tell us, Lieutenant. How were you able to infiltrate the gang of fellow officers without making them suspicious?”

  The moment the officer spoke, Keira knew it was Nick. She listened as the love of her life briefly explained how Internal Affairs operated. When he cited his long history of cooperation with the State Police she realized why her father and brothers had felt so uneasy around him.

  Her brain was spinning, her thoughts so conflicted she wondered if she should call Charles and tell him she was experiencing immense confusion. Outing crooked cops was good, right? Somebody had to do it.

  But that didn’t explain what an IA man was doing in Fitzgerald Bay. No matter how many times Keira tried to banish the painful conclusion, it kept coming back to haunt her. As she whispered the truth, she realized that everything now made perfect sense. “He’s not here to solve the murder—he’s investigating us.”

  Nick was plying his specialty among the members of the local force. He’d been sent to break them, to ruin them, to prove that Charles was guilty and that her family had been sheltering him. That had to be the truth. It was too logical to be a product of her imagination. And it explained so much that had puzzled her before.

  He had fooled even her father. Aiden apparently thought Nick’s temporary assignment had been made as a favor to him rather than the double-cross it really was. How hurt he was going to be when he realized one or more of his supposed friends in high places had betrayed his trust.

  Keira grasped her knees and curled up, staring at the walls of her bedroom and seeing nothing. Nothing but Nick. And the fading of her pretty dreams for their future.

  Nick had had to accept a smaller room at the Sugar Plum Inn this time but he didn’t care. He slammed a fist into his other cupped hand and paced. In retrospect, he assumed Carlton had been behind everything, beginning with the first break-in, although it was still possible that some of the most minor incidents had originated with a different antagonist. One thing was certain. It was Carlton who had tried to bury him and Keira on the beach. And Carlton who had smacked her so hard she was going to carry the bruise for weeks.

  So angry he could hardly contain himself, Nick kept pounding his fist into his hand and fighting for self-control. The guy had hurt his Keira.

  “No. Not my Keira. Not anymore,” he muttered. “As if she ever was.”

  There must be some way out of this, something he could do to salvage their relationship. There had to be. So why couldn’t he think of it?

  Pausing as he passed the small, west-facing window, he looked out. Fog still drifted in layers over the town and plaintive moans echoed from ships off the coast as they repeatedly blew long warning blasts on their horns.

  One slender object, lighted from below, pierced through the fog enough to be recognizable. Because the ground rose as it left the shore, the church steeple was visible above the mist.

  Nick stared. Wondered for a moment. “No. That’s ridiculous,” he whispered to himself. There was no help to be had from that quarter. Never had been, never would be.

  He turned away and resumed his pacing.

  EIGHTEEN

  There were several ways Keira coped with life’s disappointments. One was to go for a run along the shoreline but that was only fun in warmer weather. The other was to grab a big spoon and a carton of chocolate ice cream. This was certainly the perfect night for it.

  Padding barefoot into the dark kitchen, she went straight to the upright freezer, opening the adjoining refrigerator to let out just enough light to see by. “Hmm. Decisions, decisions, decisions.”

  She didn’t really want ice cream any more than she’d wanted the treats at Victoria’s party but she had to fill the void in her heart with something, and chocolate would have to do.

  What about tomorrow? Keira wondered. That was a whole other problem, wasn’t it? Since she and Nick had both been relieved of duty, she supposed that would act as a buffer. The first thing she intended to do was try to catch her father before he left the house in the morning and make him watch the video she’d stumbled on.

  “Funny,” Keira said with a sigh. “If that Carlton guy hadn’t shown up in town, I probably wouldn’t have figured this out before making a worse fool of myself.”

  Sighing, she opened the ice-cream carton and wiggled her spoon to work it into the firm contents. How ironic. A dangerous fugitive was the reason she finally knew the truth about her partner. If that was God’s answer to her prayer regarding Nick, she was certainly not thrilled.

  Spoon and treat in hand, Keira started out of the kitchen. A noise behind her made her pause.

  “Dad? Is that you?”

  No one answered. “Dad?” To her shame there was a quaver of fear in her voice this time. And still no reply.

  Knowing the layout of the kitchen, Keira began to assess her chances of escape. It wasn’t totally dark in the house. Not the way it would have been if the fog had been thicker and had totally blotted out the moonlight.

  Moreover, this was her home. She knew every inch of it. That gave her a home-field advantage.

  Ice cream in one hand, spoon in the other, she wondered which would make the best weapon until she could reach her shoulder bag and grab her cell phone or improvise otherwise.

  Probably the hard lump of frozen dessert, although she supposed she could always poke an attacker in the eye with the spoon if she couldn’t get to a gun.

  Picturing such a battle almost made her laugh. Intense nervousness often did that. So did embarrassment. So did a lot of circumstances if she were honest with herself.

  She turned the spoon around and slid the cuff of her sweatshirt over its bowl. The filigreed silver handle was a poor excuse for a knife but it would have to do.

  “I’m armed,” Keira announced boldly, her arm extended in a defensive pose. “If you leave quietly I’ll let you go.”

  The ensuing silence almost convinced her that she had imagined a prowler until she sniffed. Something smelled odd. Liquor. And sweat. He was here!

  Edging backward toward the door to the hallway in search of her purse, Keira tried to decide where her erstwhile attacker might be lurking. The room was enormous. And neat. And provided few places where a big man like Anthony Carlton could hide.

  So where…?

  A meaty hand clamped over her mouth before she had a chance to scream. The spoon clattered to the floor and the carton of ice cream slipped from her grasp when she tried to pitch it over her shoulder at his head.

  His laugh was low, sinister. “You were a lot prettier in that dress you had on before.”

  Struggling, Keira wished she was still wearing the matching red shoes because he was in the perfect place for an arch stomp. She tried to harm him with her bare heel but all she succeeded in doing was hurting her own foot as it scraped against the metal-rimmed laces of his boot.

  If her father awoke and came to investigate, he’d probably be armed. If Irene Mulrooney was the one who stumbled upon this scene, however, the older woman could easily be hurt—or even killed.

  Keira decided she must not let that happen. Forcing herself to relax and stop struggling, she felt her captor’s grip loosen.

  “Now you’re being smart,” Carlton whispered near her ear.

  The odor of his breath almost made her gag but she managed to nod.

  “Not a peep. You hear?”

  Another nod and the hand was no longer covering her face. “What—what do you want?”

  “Well, not you, pretty lady, although if you still had that
red dress on I might change my mind.” He chortled quietly. “For a cop you’re sure dumb. I guess that comes from being a rookie.”

  Grabbing a fistful of her sweatshirt at the shoulder, he shoved her shoulder bag at her. “Get your phone and give it to me.”

  “What if I don’t…?”

  “Don’t mess with me, lady,” Carlton growled. As soon as he had the phone in hand, he cast the bag aside and propelled her toward the back door. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “What do you care?” the fugitive said wryly. “Maybe we’ll take in the sights from the top of the lighthouse. How does that sound?”

  “But, why me?”

  His resulting laugh made her skin crawl. “Because I need you for bait, darlin’. I’m going fishing.”

  Nick’s cell rang. He glanced at his watch. Who would be calling at this time of the morning?

  He looked at the ID number. Keira? Now? Why?

  Instead of hello he answered with, “What’s wrong,” and heard a menacing laugh.

  “Nice of your girlfriend to put you on speed dial. Makes it much easier for me.”

  “Carlton.” Nick was gripping his phone so tightly his fingers started to tingle.

  “That’s me, buddy. Sorry I couldn’t hang around and chat earlier. I had an appointment with a real pretty lady cop.”

  “If you hurt her…”

  “Nothing’s gonna happen to the rookie. I haven’t got anything against her except the uniform she wears. Now, you, that’s a different story.”

  “What do you want?” Nick asked, already assuming there was a trade offer coming, one he would gladly accept.

  “You know what. I want you. Alone. You can take her place and we’ll have a nice little reunion.”

  “Fine. Where?”

  Nick was throwing clothing onto the bed while he talked. When he heard his nemesis say, “The lighthouse,” he froze. “What are you talking about?”