Stuck On You

by Christine Wenger

  "Naw, it flunked out of K-9 school."

  The officer sat down and began watching a basketball game on TV as Killer dozed and Kate scanned the area for Mack.

  #

  The locker was half-full of confiscated drugs. Mack recognized his own writing on most of the evidence tags. Only half of the crack was there from the Bennett raid. Only a quarter of the marijuana from the Potter bust. Some bad coke, stepped on a million times, covered the bottom shelf, but not nearly all that he remembered tagging.

  If the destruction was made on schedule, two weeks ago, the locker would be just about empty, except a pound or so of loose weed he and Tom got from a locker at the bus terminal about a week ago after a tip.”

  The drugs he had confiscated weren't destroyed, but were being sold back on the street.

  And it absolutely had to be an inside job.

  Mack grunted at the futility of his undercover work. He'd bring in the drugs and the cops would re-sell them instead of destroying them.

  Now that's what he called job security!

  He closed the door behind him, locked all the locks, and with his back to the wall, he waited in the hallway. When he caught Kate's eye, he motioned that he was finished and for her to distract the cop so he could scoot out the door.

  Kate was doing one hell of a job. He could tell she was as nervous as hell, but he couldn't have gotten in there without her.

  As he waited in the darkened hallway, he wondered what Kate's next move was going to be.

  Kate made eye contact with him. She nodded slightly, opened her mouth and started screaming like the hounds of hell were after her.

  The cop jumped up and reached for his gun.

  "A mouse! A mouse!" she screamed, running around the room. She bumped into the cop. They fell to the floor with Kate on top of him. The dog yawned, sniffed Kate's ankle, then sat down in front of the TV.

  Trying not to laugh, Mack snuck out the door past them and hit the ground running.

  He waited behind the dumpster at the gas station for only fifteen minutes before he heard her car. Kate pulled over, and he got in.

  "That was an Oscar winning performance, Kate." He got in the car and she drove away. "Eek! A mouse! A mouse!"

  Kate laughed. "Well, it worked."

  "You were great."

  "Thanks!" she said. "I was good, wasn't I?"

  "Absolutely."

  "And what did you find out?"

  "Just as I thought. The drugs are there, but not a full load. I’d bet my badge, if I had one, that they are being sold back on the street." He didn't know why he was tipping his hand to Kate. He should clam up. He reminded himself that the less she knew the better.

  "That verifies your theory that it's an inside job."

  "Yes."

  "Who?"

  He couldn't tell her that he had a gut feeling that Crowley was in it up to his hair roots, and that made him feel bad. Actually, Kate had her suspicions about Crowley already. Mack knew that Crowley had explosives experience in Vietnam, had access to the jail, and had known about the deal that placed him in Kate's program. Plus, he was once the commander of the SWAT team and was a crack shot.

  He had gone to Crowley with his suspicions only last month–that he suspected that drugs which were already confiscated were making their way back onto the street. Crowley listened in rapt interest and told Mack to keep investigating.

  Yeah, right. Soon after, Tom Murray was shot, and, while sitting in jail, Mack realized that he was the real target.

  But Mack couldn't go off half-cocked, making wild accusations against his captain, a highly decorated law enforcement official who was about to be sworn in as chief. He needed more evidence. He had to be sure. Besides, Marty was his friend.

  "I don't know yet," he told Kate, purposely keeping her in the dark. "But let's check into a hotel. You pick it"

  "How about the one out on Route 10. The Eagle," Kate replied.

  "Out of the county?"

  "I think that's better, considering the circumstances."

  "You're the boss," Mack said.

  "Yeah, right."

  When they got to the hotel, the clerk told them that the only room left had a king bed. He didn't mind in the least, but Kate seemed to be a little nervous about the whole situation.

  They registered as Mr. and Mrs. John Jones.

  Being shot at and then going on two undercover operations was probably more than a little overwhelming to a civilian. Maybe she was jumpy about the king bed situation. He could always take the couch, although he hoped that wouldn't be necessary.

  Maybe he was more nervous than she was.

  It was a motor hotel, so Kate parked the car in front of the room while he unlocked the door. He eyed the room. It was standard hotel fare–nothing fancy, but it was clean. He sat on the edge of the bed and turned on the TV. He clicked the channels until he heard:

  "Sergeant John Mackowitz is still at large. It is believed that he did not perish in the fire that destroyed his house and that in fact he may have set it. Also missing is Katherine Kingston, the operator of the Your Home is Your Jail project, who is responsible for keeping track of Sergeant Mackowitz while he is awaiting trial. Authorities believe they he has taken her hostage. Anyone with any information is asked to call Captain Martin Crawley at—”

  "What?" Kate's face was alabaster white, and the tote bag of clothes slipped out of her hand and dropped to the ground. "I can't believe it."

  "With me is the Honorable Peter Nash, Rose Lake County Court Judge. Judge Nash, what can you tell us about Sergeant Mackowitz and Katherine Kingston?"

  "I received a call from Kate Kingston not too long ago, and I'm confident that Sergeant Mackowitz will not harm her. I expect a call from her any time now." Pete Nash looked pointedly at the camera. "She should call me any time now. However, I cannot comment further."

  “Why that jackass! He knows that I didn’t kidnap you. Why didn’t he say that?” Mack sputtered.

  The reporter then showed photos of her and Mack. It was the picture from her probation ID. Mack's picture was the same one they always used–the one of him being arrested by Captain Crowley the night he was accused of tipping off drug sellers and getting Tom shot.

  “Crowley knows that you didn’t kidnap me, too, Mack. We just saw him at the restaurant.”

  Mack looked deflated. Boneless. “Maybe this was taped earlier,” he said, half-heartedly.

  Kate went to the phone. "I'd better call Pete and tell him where we are."

  "No. Don't."

  "I have to. I'm not going to have my business trashed. Besides, they should stop all their speculation." Tears sprang to her eyes, and she fought to hold them back. "I don’t want my reputation trashed...or yours either."

  "I know. Your Victorian home on the lake." He opened his arms and she walked into them. He held her tight. "And I'm blocking the door of it."

  She managed a weak laugh. "It's not only that. I don't want everyone thinking that you’re a kidnapper, too.”

  He looked at the king bed over Kate's shoulder. "Nothing could be farther from the truth, huh?"

  "Right."

  He rubbed her back and she melted into him. She seemed tired, very tired. "Let's get some sleep."

  "I can't, Mack. I really have to call Pete."

  He had a gut feeling that it was a bad idea. Even though Pete probably needed to know where they were, he didn't like the fact that if word got around, another attempt might be made on his life, and he didn't want Kate to be caught in the cross-fire. Pete’s phone could be bugged. Or Pete might trust Crowley and say something he shouldn’t.

  "Don't call him yet. Let's sleep on it."

  "Okay", she yawned, probably too tired to fight.

  Mack made a half-serious offer to sleep on the couch.

  "That's not necessary. We're both adults," Kate said.

  "Consenting adults."

  "Tired, consenting adults."

  "I'm never that tired," Mack said, sheddi
ng his clothes and tossing them on a chair. Clad only in his jockey underwear, he slipped between the sheets. Propping himself on an elbow, he waited for Kate.

  "I'm glad that we had clothes packed from the cabin," she said, stalling.

  "Did you happen to bring that black satin nightgown?" Mack asked.

  "I have my Minnie Mouse night shirt."

  "Close enough," Mack said, flipping the edge of the bed linens over on her side. He patted the mattress.

  Kate laughed and took her tote bag into the bathroom. She did have the black satin nightgown as well as the Minnie Mouse night shirt.

  What should she do?

  Suddenly, she wasn't tired anymore. She was more alert than ever.

  She chose the black satin.

  Before she walked back into the room, she could hear the loud snoring of John Mackowitz, Mrs. Tucker's stud muffin.

  He wouldn't be her stud muffin tonight, she thought, disappointed.

  Kate got in bed next to him and turned off the light. He turned toward her with a loud snore, then the snoring stopped. Not being able to resist, she laid the palm of her hand on his cheek and gently touched his face. She kissed his forehead, then felt his grip on her wrist.

  Taking her hand from his cheek, he kissed the palm of it. “Thanks for your help tonight, Kate.”

  She felt his grip go slack, and he turned onto his stomach, burrowing into the pillow.

  As Kate laid there in the darkness listening to her heart pulse in her ears, she smiled.

  She fell into a restless sleep, but instead of dreaming about Mack, she kept thinking of her last conversation with Pete Nash. That was when she remembered telling him that she was taking Mack to her father's fishing cabin.

  Who did Pete tell?

  The next morning, when Mack was in the shower, Kate couldn't stop thinking about the news report. She dialed Pete Nash's chambers.

  "Pete? It's Kate."

  "Where the hell are you? Is Mack with you?"

  "We're at a motel and, yes, he's with me."

  "Are you crazy?"

  "What do you want from me, Pete? His house burned down and someone tried to kill him at my father's cabin. Reporters were at my office. We had no other place to go."

  "What the hell were the two of you doing at the Heliport last night?"

  She hesitated, not liking the tone of his voice. "It was only me at the Heliport, and I was lost," she lied. "How'd you hear about that anyway?"

  "The officer who was on duty recognized your picture from the news last night and phoned Captain Crowley."

  "That's nice."

  "What's going on, Kate? What were you doing at the Heliport?" He sounded angry. Very angry.

  "I told you. I was looking for directions." She took a deep breath, not comfortable with his interrogation. "Look, Pete. Nothing's going on. I'm stuck with Mack and he's stuck with me. He's still doing my program. He's wearing the monitor. That's all. And I wish everyone would quit insinuating that there's something underhanded going on here, and instead concentrate on who's trying to kill him."

  "Um...ah...you're absolutely right, Kate. I'm sorry. I guess I just over-reacted. Is Mack all right?"

  "Yes, we managed to get away." Kate took a deep breath, reliving the horrific incident. "But never mind all that. I have a couple questions for you, too."

  "Shoot." Pete said.

  "Who else did you happen to tell that I was taking Mack up to the cabin?"

  There was silence, then she heard him exhale. "Well, I let Crowley know. And then I wrote it down in Mack's file for Judge Clark, for whenever he gets back to take over this mess. I think that's about it."

  "Who has access to the file?"

  "No one really. It's in my desk now."

  "So you only told Crowley?"

  "Kate, what do you suspect?"

  "Nothing. Nothing and no one. I'm just thinking out loud."

  "Good. Keep thinking. And let me know if there's anything I can do. Now I want you to leave there and go up to Lou's Lakeview Cottages in the Adirondacks. It's on Loon Lake. Know it?"

  "I know Loon Lake."

  "Lou's in Arizona. Go to the cottage marked "Loon 12" and there'll be a key under the mat. You can stay as long as necessary. I'll square it with Lou. And stay put, okay?"

  "Yes. Thanks, Pete. I appreciate it. So will Mack."

  "Leave now."

  "Hey, Pete?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Don't tell another soul where we're going or write it down. Promise?"

  "Sure. Absolutely ."

  She hung up the phone just as Mack walked in, wearing nothing but a towel. He looked through a paper bag containing some of her father's clothes that she had brought for him.

  In spite of the fact that she was still reeling from speaking to Pete Nash, she could still appreciate how great he looked. She could almost feel his warm, wet skin under the palm of her hand. She wanted to feel the strength in him.

  "Were you on the phone?"

  "I called Pete Nash."

  He shook his head in disbelief. "I wish you didn't–"

  "But he seemed worried about you and he offered us a cabin on Loon Lake," Kate said.

  "In the Adirondacks? That's quite a way from Rose County."

  "About three hours from here."

  "Might be a good deal," Mack said. "What'd you tell him?"

  "I said that we'd stay there."

  "I'll go, but I think you should go back to your office, Kate. Or go back to your father’s cabin. No one should bother you as long as I'm not with you."

  "Do you think that Loon Lake is a trap?" Kate held her breath, waiting for his answer.

  "What do you think?"

  "Might be," Kate replied. "Do you think Pete Nash is in on it?"

  "Might be. I wouldn't rule anyone out, even though he's my friend." Mack said, shaking his head. "It seems to have crossed your mind that he could be involved, hasn't it?"

  "Pete was the only one I told that we were going to my father's cabin. He said he didn't tell anyone but Crowley."

  "Crowley, huh?" Mack grimaced.

  "And you suspect Crowley."

  "He's crossed my mind, too."

  "Is he an explosives expert, Mack?"

  He didn't answer, but walked to the window and stared out.

  "And is Crowley a SWAT expert?"

  He turned toward her and assumed his standard, white-fisted stance. "Kate, the less you know, the better."

  "I already told you, the more that I know the better. I'm in this with you."

  "The hell you are!"

  "The hell I'm not!" Kate walked over to him. They stood toe-to-toe. "You're the same stupid jock as you always were. I thought you changed, but you haven't. I could shoot you myself about now, you stubborn man, but that'd be too good for you!"

  "And you're the same stand-offish brain you always were!" he hissed. Mack's smile deepened into laughter. "We sound like high schoolers." His amusement faded and he took a deep breath. "Can't you understand that I don't want you hurt?"

  "Then be straight with me!"

  "All right. Yes! The answer is yes. Crowley is a SWAT expert and an explosives expert." He paced the room. "Happy now?"

  "Ecstatic," she said, glaring at him. She let out a long breath, closed her eyes, and composed her thoughts. "Are there any cops you can trust? Anyone who you'd want to work with?" Anyone who'd want to work with you about now?"

  Judging by the pained look on his face, she knew that she had struck a raw nerve. In an occupation that depended on team work and camaraderie, Mack was all alone.

  "Would you go to the State Police for help, or to the Feds?" Kate asked, hopefully.

  He shook his head. "I don't have enough evidence. After my arrest, they'll think I'm just trying to pass the blame."

  "Then why can't you understand that I can help you?" She tried to reason with him, but he was just so exasperating, so obstinate, so rigid, so gorgeous.

  "You are one stubborn woman!" He held her arms. "Tom
Murray, a well-trained cop, took a bullet. What might happen to you, Kate?"

  "At the worst, I might take a bullet, too. At best, I could shoot them before they shoot us."

  He threw his hands up. "They aren't cows, Kate! And they are not paper targets. Men move a little faster and are a little smarter. And here's a newsflash: the bad guys shoot back!"

  "I never shot a cow, and you know it. It meandered over the hill at the range and decided to lie down. There wasn't a nick on the poor cow. But you joked and teased and changed the story so much–”

  "You're changing the subject!"

  "You brought it up."

  "Can you really shoot?"

  Kate stuck out her chin. "I've been the Rose Lake Range champion for the past five years now."

  "Oh. I didn't know." He had the decency to look apologetic.

  "You didn't ask."

  They both took a breath. It was time for round two.

  But before Mack could start, Kate held up her hand. "I promised Pete Nash that I wouldn't leave your side and that you'd appear for court."

  "I'll appear for court. I promise." He pulled a brightly striped golf shirt over his head that Kate remembered her father wearing. Dad had called it his lucky shirt.

  Maybe it would be Mack's lucky shirt, too.

  He started to take his towel off, but stopped when he realized that she was still in the room. "Please just listen to me."

  "No," she said, adamantly. "Now we either go together to Loon Lake or I can surrender you and you can go to jail and be a sitting duck. It's your decision."

  "What kind of choice is that?"

  She shrugged. "I guess it's Loon Lake then."

  "I don't like it one bit. It's a set up. I feel it."

  "Then we'll be prepared for it," Kate said. "Just like we prepared for the Heliport.”

  He shook his head. What he didn’t say was that this was more dangerous than the Heliport.

  “Was there a log or anything that would have indicated who witnessed the destruction of the drugs?” Kate asked.

  He didn't answer, but just stood staring at her with his hands on his hips, looking sexy and frustrated.

  Mack didn't like the fact that Kate knew just about all he knew. If she let anything slip, it could put her in definite danger.

  Maybe he should keep the answer to that question to himself.

  “I didn’t see a destruction log,” he lied.