In the Shadow of the Shield (Secret Lives Series Book 2)

by Carolyn LaRoche

  “Fine. Okay. Please put the gun down.”

  “No, I don’t think so. Now walk back to the truck.”

  Diana eased her way back around the corner of the building, never taking her eyes off of Schmidt or his gun.

  “Why did you kill my husband?”

  “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Donnie’s dead, and it’s because he knew about your little meth operation. You can’t expect me to believe that his death was an accident.”

  “Massey always was a sucker for the weak. As soon as he thought a couple of kids were playing around in that old house, he ran right in there after them. Paid no attention to his training or protocol. He ran right in there, with all that poisonous gas. A little bleach, a little ammonia, and wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.”

  Bastards!

  She was still backing her way along the building, but moving as slowly as she could. “You may not have pulled the trigger, but you are responsible for his death. All three of you are. And now he will finally get justice. I will make sure the entire city knows how dirty the three of you are.”

  Schmidt’s laugh was cold and humorless. “You won’t be telling anybody anything. Hard to make a peep when you’re dead.”

  “So, you are a murderer.”

  “I’m no such thing. I couldn’t hurt a fly with this here injury of mine.” He waved his bandaged arm in front of her. “Hard to do anything to anyone when I'm missing two fingers.”

  She nodded toward his arm. “How’d you manage to explain that one away at work? Did you tell your superior that you cut your fingers off packaging meth?”

  Again with the humorless laugh from Schmidt. “Nope. Just a regular household accident. People lose their fingers all the time on table saws, lawn mowers, garbage disposals.”

  “I bet they put you on light duty. You riding a desk somewhere? Or, wait, they put you in records, didn’t they? Big, tough badass is a file clerk now.” She had no idea why she was taunting the man who held a gun on her, but it felt really good. They had reached the truck again. Schmidt pointed to the front seat with his gun.

  “Get in.”

  “Get out. Get in. Will you make up your mind already? You’re not so good at this kidnapping stuff.”

  He stepped close and shoved the gun against her chest. Hot breath that smelled like tobacco and garlic covered her face. Diana held back the urge to vomit. Barely. She could hear Wilkins and Roman moving in and out of the truck box, offloading their cargo. She considered screaming and calling for help, but figured that would be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. Wilkins would be all too willing to do her harm in ways a gun couldn’t.

  “Looks like I’m doing a pretty okay job of it. I’ve got the gun, and you are still here. So, if you want to retain any hope of living through this, get inside the damned truck. Can’t have you running off again now, can I?” He jabbed the gun up between two ribs, making her flinch. “Yup, I’m the one with the gun. Wilkins don’t have the nerve to take you out, but I do. In a couple of weeks, I will be sitting on the beach of some warm, tropical island, where no one will care how I lost my fingers, or where I made my fortune. So shut the hell up and get in the truck.”

  Taunting the man wasn’t going to work. That gun was a bit too close to her vital organs for comfort. Diana stepped aside and let her captor open the door to the cab of the truck. She bit her tongue when he shoved her up to the seat, and didn’t say a word when he used a second pair of cuffs to hook her bound hands to the door handle. Schmidt disappeared around the back of the truck, and she sat there, trying her hardest not to panic.

  Think, Diana!

  Why hadn’t she thought to grab the handcuff key out of the glove box? Oh, wait, because her car was totaled and stuck in some junkyard somewhere. So much for being prepared for anything. Donnie wouldn’t be impressed.

  Okay, so she screwed up with the handcuff key. What were her other options? No gun. No weapon of any kind. Again, major screw-up. Her phone! She still had her phone. She could call for help. 9-1-1 will be able to track her location. Now, how to get the damned thing out of her bra?

  Diana spent the next ten minutes trying to work the phone out of her shirt without the use of her hands, and trying not to call attention to herself. Finally, exhausted and frustrated, she gave up. Pulling at the cuffs as hard as she could, she willed the chains to bend, or the door handle to break. The efforts were in vain. All it served to do was tear apart the skin at her wrists. What did it matter, anyway? Donnie had been murdered. Carter, who had finally brought a little joy back into her life, was gone now too. Tears brewed behind her closed lids. She had nothing left to live for, anyway. Jackson would be fine. His new life would begin in a few months, when he left for college. He would miss her, but eventually he would meet someone, fall in love, and his mother would be a memory he revisited a couple of times a year.

  Of course, she was going to miss his high school graduation, and then his college one. There would be no wedding that she could attend, and grandbabies would never come to her house for too many treats, hugs, and kisses. The tears flowed freely, and she didn’t even try to stop them. Her life was about to come to an end; she could mourn the loss a little if she wanted to. The truck rocked as the men moved in and out with their stash. As she sat there, reveling in the memories of her life, and praying to God her death would be quick and painless, something hit the driver’s side window with a loud ping, shattering the glass.

  Someone was shooting at her! Diana dropped to the floor of the van. More bullets rained against the side of the box. Voices shouted, followed by more gunshots. The truck rocked every time a bullet made impact. Peeking up over the dashboard, she saw Chief Roman and Wilkins posted up on her side of the truck, shooting into the darkness. She started pulling at the cuffs again, trying everything she could think of to free herself. The shouting grew louder.

  “Police! Drop your weapons!”

  “Oh, shit! Captain, it’s the cops!”

  “Shut up, Wilkins. We’re the cops too, remember?”

  “So, why are we shooting them?”

  “Because they started shooting at us first!”

  Out of nowhere, the driver’s side door opened, and Schmidt jumped behind the wheel. His good hand shaking, he missed the ignition several times as he tried to insert the key. “Let me go! Please!” she begged. “I’ll run and hide. No one will ever know I was here. I promise not to say anything.”

  “Will you shut the hell up already? You’re the reason I never got married! Women just bitch and whine way too much.” Yelling at her must have calmed his nerves. He finally got the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. The truck lurched forward, slamming her head against the dash. She scrambled to the seat, closed her eyes and held on to the door handle. As quickly as it started moving, the truck screeched to a halt.

  “Damn him!” Schmidt cursed.

  Diana opened her eyes. Standing there in the beam of the headlights, gun pointed straight at Schmidt, was the one person she never thought she would ever see again.

  “Carter!”

  “Your boyfriend is like a STD! Just when I thought he was gone for good…”

  Carter waved for her to get down as he opened fire on the van. Diana covered her head as best she could and counted the shots. When she reached nine, the vehicle started rolling forward. Stealing a glance at the driver’s seat, she inhaled sharply. Schmidt was leaning over the steering wheel—blood had sprayed all over the windshield, and his foot was lodged against the gas pedal. The truck was gaining momentum. Diana saw Carter jump out of the way as the truck plowed by him.

  “Carter! Help! Help me! I can’t get out!”

  “Diana! Jump!”

  The speedometer said the truck was going forty miles per hour, and gaining. They were headed for an orange construction fence. As the truck got closer to the fence, the headlights picked up a reflection.

  “Diana! You have to jump!” Carter was waving his arms and yelling
as he ran after the box truck.

  She managed to lower the window enough to yell back. “I can’t! I’m handcuffed to the door handle!”

  Shots rang out again, and she heard Captain Roman yell to Carter to drop to the ground. Carter ignored him, still running after the box truck. When they reached fifty miles per hour, the truck burst through the orange fencing and straight toward a large retention pond. As the vehicle hit a concrete barrier, she looked out at Carter one more time. The back end of the truck lifted over the cab. Diana screamed, and Carter fell to the ground. The last thing she saw before the truck hit the water was the blood covering Carter’s beige jacket.

  “Carter! No!”

  The truck crashed into the pond, and began to sink in the murky water. She could hear the engine whine as it filled with water. Diana went crazy trying to free herself, but to no avail. Water slowly began to seep into the cab as panic seized her. Tears ran down her face as the icy water swirled in faster and faster. Pretty soon she was waist deep in fear and near-frozen liquid.

  She said a quick prayer, asking God to take care of Jackson. Dying scared her, but drowning mortified her. She couldn’t imagine a worse way to go. The truck started to tip sideways, Schmidt’s lifeless body sliding across the cab and landing on top of her. Diana screamed, trying to push the bloody corpse away, when something occurred to her. Donnie had always carried a pair of cuffs and a key, no matter where they went. Schmidt had cuffed her to the door. He had to have a key on him somewhere. Shifting as much as she could to climb over Schmidt’s body, she tore at his clothing, trying to pull pockets close enough to her bound hands to get a look for the key. After searching his jacket and shirt pockets, she stuck a finger in the front pocket of his jeans. Success! The water was filling the cab quickly, leaving her only a small pocket of air. Her fingers fumbled with the key, trying to get it into the hole on the cuffs, while working against the current that had begun to swirl in the space.

  Finally, when there was barely an inch of airspace left, the key slipped into the lock and the handcuffs binding her to the door slipped off. Grabbing one last deep breath of air, Diana scrambled away from Schmidt and toward the driver’s side door. Gripping the key in one hand, she tugged at the door handle with the other, but the force of the water against the door kept it from opening.

  Her lungs burning, Diana flipped around so her feet were facing the window. Summoning up whatever strength she had left, she slammed the heels of her boots against the window over and over again. On the last kick, the window gave way. Diana pushed it out of the opening and swam through, her muscles screaming from the cold.

  Gasping for air at the surface, Diana flailed through the water to reach dry land. Desperate not to lose the handcuff key, she kicked for all she was worth against the bone-chilling cold. When she finally reached the edge of the pond, she threw herself on the ground, panting and heaving against the frigid air.

  “Wh—why do—does th—this ha—have to b—be th—the coldest w—w—winter ever?” Her teeth chattered so hard, she feared they would crumble in her mouth as she tried to control her shivering body enough to unlock the other pair of cuffs.

  The key fell from her frozen fingers. “No!” She cried, running her hands through the dead grasses in search of it. Finally, her fingertips brushed across cold steel. “Thank you, God!” After several attempts, she managed to get the key in the opening, and after hours of being bound, her hands were finally free.

  “Carter!” The second the cuffs were off, all she could think about was finding the man who she had already thought was dead once. An image of his blood-soaked clothing in her mind brought on a sob but Diana trampled it down. Carter had defied death once that night—he could do it again. Pulling herself to her feet, Diana stumbled and tripped her way through the gnarled branches and grasses that surrounded the retention pond. There was no way she was losing another man she loved without a fight.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Diana was shaking violently by the time she made it back to where the truck had driven into the pond. Roman and Wilkins were gone, and the storage locker was closed up tight with a large padlock on it. Dragging herself up the bank to the last place she had seen Carter, Diana searched frantically for his body. Her clothes had turned into ice cubes, and the phone she had tried so hard to reach earlier was soaked through. Now she had no way to call for help, even if she did find Carter. Her muscles screamed in agony, and her breath came in short, painful gasps. Diana collapsed on the frozen ground, resigned to the fact that her life was over. She would die of hypothermia before morning. Probably before the hour was up.

  A low moan filtered its way through the dark. “Carter! Is that you?” Her words came out in a croak, indecipherable even to her own ears.

  Another moan followed by a long, low groan. The grass rustled about four feet from where she lay. Summoning up whatever was left of her willpower, Diana pulled herself through the grasses until she found him. Carter, covered in blood and soot, was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

  Scrambling the rest of the way between them, Diana grabbed his face with both of her ice cold hands, turning it towards her. “Carter? It’s me, Diana. Can you hear me?”

  “Mmm…” He moaned and tried to turn away. “Cold. So cold.”

  “I know, baby. I know.” Her teeth were slamming together, and her body was wracked with spasms. She collapsed next to him, wrapping her body around his. Her wet clothes weren’t doing her much good, but maybe if they combined body heat, she would get more of the wetsuit effect from them. Carter groaned and moved his hand so that it covered hers.

  “I’m here, Carter.”

  “Phone,” Carter managed to say between blue lips.

  “My ph—phone is d—dead. It got w—wet when I w—went in the p—pond.”

  He reached up and touched her cheek. Diana tried to control the chattering so her teeth wouldn’t bite his fingers off. “Diana. I fou—found y—you.”

  “Yes, baby, y—you did. I—I don’t know h—how b—but you did. I am so sorry.”

  “L—love y—you.” His hand dropped back to his chest. Diana grabbed it and held it tight in her own. She could feel the beat of Carter’s heart in his chest. It seemed to be slowing down.

  “I l—love y—you too.” She lay her head on his chest, listening to the sounds of his lungs expanding and contracting. His breathing was so shallow, his body as cold as her own.

  Eyelids heavy, Diana fought the urge to fall asleep. If she did, it would be the end for both of them. Somewhere in the distance, she heard sirens. The flash of blue lights bounced off the trees around the pond. Her eyes closed, and her breathing slowed as footsteps sounded on the pavement above them.

  “Whoa! Look at the two of you! I found them! Over here!” The familiar voice drew her out the darkness.

  “L—Lookie L—Louie,” she whispered. “How—how did you f—find us?”

  “I still don’t get what you see in that guy, but he sure does have a thing for you.”

  Red, flashing lights washed over her. “Th—thank y—you for r—rescuing us.”

  “I told y’all I could be useful.”

  “W—why do th—they c—call you Lo—Lookie Lou—Louie?

  “Because I’m always lookin’ to score.” He smiled down at her, and turned toward the red lights. “Down here! There’s two of them, and one of ‘em’s been shot!”

  Darkness won out, and Diana slipped away.

  ***

  Heat. It felt so good. Her eyes refused to open, but her body reveled in the warmth that surrounded her.

  “Mom?”

  Jackson.

  Jackson! She forced her eyes open, and looked into the frightened face of her son. “You have to stop doing this to me, Mom.”

  Memories came flooding back. Ice cold water. Thinking Carter was dead. Tears filled her eyes, but she held them back. Jackson didn’t need to see her cry.

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

  “Where did you
go? I found your note when I got home. The next thing I knew, the hospital was calling me. Again. They must have me on speed dial by now!”

  “I know. I shouldn’t have gone. I just—I just needed to know what happened to your father.”

  “We already know. He was poisoned.”

  She reached for her son’s hand and squeezed it. “Yes. But it wasn’t the accident we thought it was, honey.”

  “What are you saying, Mom?”

  “He was set up, Jackson. By some of the guys he worked with.”

  “That’s ridiculous! Dad was a cop! Why would other cops want to kill him?”

  “Not all cops are like your dad. Sometimes they make bad choices, and good men like your dad get caught up in it.”

  Jackson started pacing back and forth by her bed. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. He trusted those guys! Son of a bitch!”

  “Jackson!”

  He stopped pacing, and dropped into the vinyl chair by her bed. “They killed him?”

  “I’m so sorry you had to find out. I was trying to keep it from you, so we could avoid all this.”

  “Avoid what? You nearly dying for the second time in as many weeks?”

  She shifted so she could see her son. “I’m sorry to put you through this, but I owed it to your father to find out the truth.”

  “Did you find it?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  Jackson sat forward in his chair. “And?”

  “And I am not going to talk about it until I have had the chance to talk to Carter.”

  Her heart dropped into her stomach when she said his name. She didn’t even know if he was still alive. Oh, crap! Is Carter—? She couldn’t even complete the thought. Diana bolted upright on the hospital bed, ignoring the searing pain in all of her muscles.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” Jackson said. “He’s alive. The cold air slowed the bleeding of his wounds. He hardly lost any blood.”