Burnout (NYPD Blue & Gold)

by Tee O'Fallon

  “Yes.” She stopped stirring. “Why?”

  “It’s vibrating.” He inclined his head to a metal locker labeled “Chef” against the wall behind him.

  She slapped the heavy spoon onto the counter, splashing droplets of meaty sauce everywhere, then hustled to her locker. The phone went off again, sounding like a swarm of bees. Cassie retrieved the phone and cued up her voicemail. She listened to Dom’s message telling her to call him right away. Not a good sign.

  While dialing Dom’s cell, she called out to Chuck and Leo, “I’ll be outside for a few minutes.”

  Cassie pushed open the rear screen door and walked to the far end of the staff lot where she’d parked her Trail Blazer in the shade of a large elm tree. A light breeze rustled the leaves overhead, cooling the sweat on her face. Ten thirty in the morning and it had to be eighty-five degrees already.

  When Dom answered she got right to the point. “Please tell me you have good news.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “After you told Gray about not leaving that light on in your house, he had forensics sweep your place.”

  “You found something? Prints?”

  “No, your place was clean, but Gray and I interviewed your neighbors. Several of them said a man was asking for you.”

  She frowned. “What man, what did he look like?”

  “Average height, average build, mid-thirties, brown hair, brown eyes.”

  “That’s no help.”

  “One more thing.” Dom paused. “He also had a goatee and a hook-shaped nose. Ring any bells?”

  Cassie shook her head. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Damn, we’re running in circles here.” Strain was evident in Dom’s voice, and Cassie knew he had to be putting in loads of overtime on this. “The hit doesn’t make sense. You dying wouldn’t free Manici. I still can’t shake the feeling we’re missing something.”

  She leaned against the Trail Blazer and pressed her fingers to her forehead. No matter how much she deluded herself, her life was still very much in jeopardy and remaining hidden was essential. “I know everyone is doing the best they can.” She hoped she sounded more encouraging than she felt.

  “Gray and I contacted every snitch we have on the street, but so far everything’s a dead end. Is there anything else you can think of, anything you said or did or saw while you were working at that place that you haven’t told us?”

  “For the hundredth time, no.” A headache began pounding behind her forehead. “The only other thing I can suggest is to keep reviewing Manici’s secret stash of videotapes. Could be something there I don’t know about.”

  “The only thing we confirmed from interviewing some of the guys on the tapes is that Manici really was blackmailing his customers. He’d pick out the rich ones with a wife, kids, good job, and a reputation to protect, then turn on the camera to record a back room session with one of the girls. Later, he’d threaten the customer with sending a copy of the tape to the guy’s home or place of business. Manici squeezed one pathetic sucker, a smarmy lawyer named Andrew Gould, for twenty grand.” Dom barked out a laugh. “When Gray interviewed him, Gould broke down and cried like a girl, no offense. Pissed his pants, saying it would ruin his marriage and he’d lose his job if word got out about his preference for underage girls.”

  “Twenty thousand?” Cassie whistled. “Manici had some little side business.”

  “Not so little. There are plenty of others to be interviewed, and we haven’t gotten through half the tapes yet. We’re running a full set of financials on Manici and La Femme to verify his holdings and whether he’s stashing cash somewhere. We’ll do the same for every name on those videotapes. Might give us some new leads.”

  “Forgive me if I can’t manage any sympathy for these guys, even if they are being blackmailed.”

  “I’m with you there, partner.”

  Cassie couldn’t imagine any price these perverts paid would be sufficient penance for their roles in ruining countless young girls’ lives.

  “We’ll figure this out, Cass. Meantime, remember to keep your head low. You know how I hate breaking in newbies.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Cassie teared up at the thought of how many people cared for her and were working to keep her safe. “And Dom?”

  “What?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Aw, don’t go getting all mushy on me.” To Cassie’s amusement, Dom actually sounded a little choked up. “I hate when a grown detective cries. Even if she is the prettiest one I ever saw.”

  Cassie said good-bye just as a neon blue Honda screeched to a stop at the intersection, the same vehicle she’d caught Mike eyeing suspiciously yesterday. The engine gunned and tires screeched as the car peeled away and disappeared around the corner in a cloud of gray smoke, leaving the pungent odor of burned rubber in its wake.

  That guy was going to hurt someone if he didn’t wrap himself around a tree first. Cassie shook her head and walked back into the sweltering heat of the kitchen. She checked the slips clipped to the order wheel and plated three more breakfast specials, ladling Chuck’s hollandaise sauce over the warm poached eggs. She tapped the bell for Sue and Ginny to pick up their orders. Spying Joey and Abby at the counter, she went out to say hello.

  “Morning, Abby. Morning, Joey.” Before Abby could open her mouth to return the greeting, Joey thrust out his latest caricature of the Hopewell Springs Gazette.

  “See what I drew?” The boy’s face lit with enthusiasm as Cassie took in his artistic rendition of a punk rock band, complete with spiked hair. The best part was he’d drawn them over a front-page group photo of the Hopewell Springs chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution.

  “Excellent job, Joey.” She chucked him under his chin. To Abby, she inquired, “How are you feeling?”

  “Good.” Abby smiled, but her eyes unexpectedly became glossy with unshed tears. “I hope Joey’s father will be home before my due date.”

  Cassie’s heart went out to Abby. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be pregnant and taking care of a rambunctious little boy all alone. “Three more months, right?” She recalled Rose saying Abby was six months along.

  “Hopefully no more than that. Joey was born nearly two weeks late.”

  Abby smoothed down a tuft of Joey’s light brown hair springing up on the back of his head.

  If Mike and I had kids, would they look more like him, or more like me?

  She nearly groaned at the crazy thought. After all, it was only a little groping and kissing. And afterward he’d treated her like Typhoid Mary.

  “We’d better be going.” Abby stood and hooked her bag over her shoulder, heading with Joey to the register. “Breakfast was great as always.”

  “Thanks.” Cassie began clearing their plates as a car skidded to a loud stop outside the Nest. Customers flinched and looked up. It was the same neon blue Honda Cassie noticed ten minutes earlier when it had nearly blown through an intersection. She’d bet her badge the driver would be young, in his upper teens, and looking to raise hell.

  The driver’s side door opened and a skinny kid, not more than eighteen, got out of the car. He wore jeans and an oversize black T-shirt with a white skull and crossbones on the front. The kid’s gaze darted in every direction. His legs twitched as he walked. Cassie set the plates down and walked around the counter to get a better look.

  “Hey, great risotto the other day,” a customer said to her.

  “Thanks.” She peered more closely out the window at the blue Honda’s driver.

  The kid walked inside the Nest, startling as the door’s overhead bells jangled. He jammed his hands into his pockets and waited near the register while a customer paid her bill. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking repeatedly over his shoulder.

  This kid was trouble. Big trouble. His wild driving. Uncontrollable twitching. Watery eyes. Someone touched her shoulder from behind.

  “I’ll get those,” a voice said.

  Cassie fisted her
hands and spun, ready to land the first blow.

  “Whoa.” Danny held up his hands in a defensive posture. “I just came to clear away dishes.” He nodded to the counter.

  Cassie unfurled her fists. “Sorry.”

  Danny filled a heavy gray plastic bin with dishes and headed into the kitchen.

  Cassie refocused on the kid at the register, tracking his every move. Abby and Joey partially blocked her view.

  The kid reached under his shirt.

  A gun.

  Instinctively, Cassie dropped her hand to her hip where her holster would normally be.

  Where it wasn’t today.

  The kid whipped out a stainless-steel Beretta and pointed it at Rose. “Gimme the money!”

  Rose gasped and flung her hands in the air.

  A customer near the door screamed. Others backed away. Shouts and murmurs came from the dining area as a glass hit the floor and shattered.

  Abby yanked on Joey’s arm, tucking him behind her.

  “The money! Open it!” The gun shook as the kid pointed it at Rose.

  Rose hit the button on the cash register, but the drawer didn’t open. She hit the button again and again. Nothing happened.

  The kid’s voice shook. “Open the fucking drawer!”

  “I’m trying, I’m trying.” Rose whacked the side of the register with her fist. “It won’t open,” she cried.

  “Bullshit!” The kid grabbed Abby’s arm and hauled her against his chest.

  “No, please.” Abby’s mouth twisted in pain.

  The kid shoved the gun into the side of Abby’s head. “Open the fucking register. Now!”

  Cassie’s gut twisted. He’s going to kill Abby.

  Hostage procedures hammered inside her brain. No scenario fit, except calming this kid down. Or shooting him before he shot someone. But her gun was buried deep inside her handbag and secured in a locker in the back of the kitchen. She’d never get to it in time.

  Call the police. Mike.

  Before this turned into a bloodbath.

  The phone on the wall behind Rose was out of the question. With all the customers, there had to be at least a dozen cell phones in the Nest. Surely someone would squeeze off a call.

  Chuck, Leo, and Danny were still in the kitchen. Through the opening, she saw Chuck edging toward Rose’s office, hopefully to use the phone.

  Abby inhaled sharply. She grabbed the kid’s arm and tried to pull it from her neck. Cassie swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She’d never felt more helpless in her entire life. All her training, all her street experience… Dammit, there had to be something she could do.

  She scanned the counter and nearby tables, searching for a weapon, anything at all, even a steak knife. But that was a risk. Before she could get close, the kid could pull the trigger and lodge a bullet in Abby’s skull.

  Joey tugged at Abby’s shirt. “Mommy, mommy.”

  Cassie took a step, intending to get Joey to safety.

  “Get back. All of you!” The kid swung his gun around and aimed it at Cassie. She halted and flung her hands into the air.

  Okay, bad idea.

  Glazed eyes pinned her before jamming the gun back against Abby’s head.

  Gun or no gun, I can’t stand here and do nothing.

  With her heart in her throat, she began inching to the register. She eased past Sue and briefly rested her hand on the woman’s shoulder. Rose continued to pound on the register, but the old drawer still refused to cooperate.

  “Goddammit, open it!” The kid’s hand shook violently. So did the gun.

  “It won’t open.” Rose’s face twisted in fear. “I’m trying, but it’s old and broken.”

  “Try harder.” The kid’s arms and neck were covered with scratches and bruises. Cassie would bet he was pill-sick from prescription drugs and suffering withdrawal symptoms. He was so edgy his finger could twitch and it would all be over in a heartbeat. Abby and her unborn child would be dead. Joey without a mother.

  Cassie edged closer. Ten feet. Nine. Eight. Good. The kid was so fixated on the register he didn’t notice her. Five feet. Four. Three. Talking from the TV mounted overhead on the wall muffled her steps.

  The kid spun and dragged Abby with him. “Don’t come near me.” He pointed the gun at Cassie.

  She held up her hands again. “Okay, I won’t. I just want to talk.”

  “About what?” he shouted.

  Cassie could smell his sweat, the heat radiating from his sick body. Abby shut her eyes as tears streamed down her face. Joey whimpered for his mother as another customer pulled him aside.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” She had to work at keeping her voice soothing and steady. “We’ll try to get the register open for you, won’t we, Rose?” She shot Rose a meaningful look.

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” Rose began pressing every button on the uncooperative antique.

  Abby’s strangled sobs tore at Cassie’s heart. Shock and stress could hurt the baby as much as lack of oxygen. “Listen to me.” She held out her hand, taking another step closer. “We’ll get it open somehow, I promise. But don’t hurt Abby. That’s not what you came in here for, is it?”

  Keep him talking.

  “No.” The boy’s eyes suddenly swam with tears. “My freaking bones hurt so bad. I just need the money.”

  “I know. I really do.” She did know, having seen it all too often when she’d worked the streets in uniform. Withdrawal from prescription pills could make an addict so desperate they’d do anything.

  Rose caught her attention and shook her head. Cassie understood the message. The register wasn’t going to open. She needed something to negotiate with, a way to stall for time. Time for Mike to get there.

  Cassie’s short life in Hopewell Springs flashed before her eyes. What she intended to do next might very well be the last thing she did on this earth.

  “Listen to me,” she said softly, “the cash register is jammed shut. I have an idea how to help you, but first you have to do something for me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Free chili my ass.

  Forty-eight hours after Cassie had spiked his chili and Mike was still pissed as hell at the thought of all the hot sauce he’d nearly ingested.

  He should have known nothing that came from Cassie would ever be free. The woman was a redheaded devil incarnate, and she needed an exorcist. Females confused the hell out of him, but he understood enough about women to get that Cassie was seething. Looking back, his gut told him it had something to do with Moira. Although how Cassie could misinterpret a little peck on the cheek as something romantic was beyond him.

  “Problem, Chief?” Jimmy knocked on Mike’s open door and parked his butt in the chair opposite the desk. “You’ve been cranky as hell the last couple days.”

  Mike grunted. “Wouldn’t you be, if someone intentionally dumped a gallon of hot sauce into your chili?”

  “Ahhh.” Jimmy grinned, then leaned back in the chair. “So that’s why you bolted from the Nest the other day without eating your chili. Well, what’d you do to her?”

  Mike glared at his deputy chief. “What did I do?”

  Jimmy chuckled. “You must have done something to piss her off that bad.”

  “Not a goddamn thing.”

  “Ya know, Chief,” Jimmy said, massaging his chin, “there are some pretty strong currents between you and Cassie. As your deputy, I’d never presume to know more than you, but it’s been my experience a woman doesn’t up and do something like that for no reason at all. So, again I have to ask, what did you do to her?”

  Mike could only stare at Jimmy. “You’re insane.”

  “Probably.”

  “Lose the stupid grin. And don’t you have something useful to do, like, I don’t know, police work?”

  “Ten-four, Chief.” Jimmy smiled ear-to-ear over his shoulder as he hightailed it out of Mike’s office.

  Shaking his head, Mike turned his attention back to the ever-growing stack of reports
piling up on his desk that he needed to review and sign off on. Five minutes later, he threw down his pen.

  He vacillated like a ping-pong ball between wanting a repeat of what had happened with Cassie on the road and wanting to keep his distance until he learned more about her. His emotional scars ran deep, and getting close to a woman again still scared the hell out of him. So why did the thought of sweet-talking the truth out of Cassie bring a smile to his face?

  Pounding boots nearing his office had him glancing up expectantly.

  “Mike!” Jimmy stood in the open doorway, his expression grim. “There’s an armed robbery in progress at the Nest.”

  Cassie.

  Mike stood so abruptly his chair rolled back on its wheels and slammed into the bookcase behind his desk. He stormed past Jimmy and, in a voice calmer than he felt, called to his dispatcher, “Maddy, tell all units there’s an armed robbery in progress at the Nest. Approach code two and stay out of sight. Tell them to wait for me and Jimmy. Get confirmation from every unit that they understand those orders.” After Maddy nodded and began radioing his commands to the patrolmen, Mike turned to Jimmy. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” Jimmy grabbed his arm and sent him a look of warning. “There’s more. It’s a hostage situation.”

  The full meaning of his deputy’s words hit home. Cassie was in the Nest, along with Rose, a full staff, and who knew how many patrons.

  He turned back to Maddy. “Let all units know and call in county SWAT.”

  As he and Jimmy ran out the front door, Mike’s heart threatened to ram a hole through his Kevlar. The thought of Cassie or anyone else in his town getting hurt, or worse…

  Not again, not on my watch.

  They jumped into the Explorer and sped down the road, red and blue strobes flashing. A block from the Nest, Mike shut off the lights and pulled over. From their position, they could see the front of the restaurant and eyeball two patrol cars. He grabbed the microphone, ready to give his commands, but stopped.

  “Fuck.” He slammed the steering wheel with his fist. Parked outside the Nest was Tim Harding’s neon blue Honda. Mike’s gut told him Harding was behind the robbery. He keyed the mic. “All units maintain position.”