Bulletproof

by Maggie Cummings

  “Before I forget”—Trevor took a swig of Coke—“you up for hanging Friday night?”

  “What’s Friday?” she asked.

  “Nothing special. We try to do drinks every couple of weeks. Usually at Baxter’s or someplace local. Trish coordinates it.”

  “Cool. Yeah, I’m in.”

  “Good. It’s good for us all to blow off steam together. Bond. Laugh. Keeps us nice and tight as a group.”

  “I hear that.” She wanted to tell him that she didn’t need convincing. Drinks sounded amazing. Since diving headfirst into the case, she’d barely come up for air. “Is the get-together right after work?”

  He nodded. “Basically. I mean, there’s no pressure, if you have plans or something.” He pulled out his cell. “I should actually make sure I don’t have other plans,” he said while he texted.

  “I’m free.” Dylan didn’t need to check her social schedule. There was only one person she wanted to see anyway. “Who goes? Just our team?” She knew exactly why she was asking. She hoped her tone was calm enough that Trevor didn’t pick up on any ulterior motive.

  “Us,” he said, making a circle with his hand to reference both the two of them and the rest of their unit. “Sometimes the attorneys show.” Bingo. That was the intel she wanted. Dylan could already feel her excitement build. “Trish will send out a message Friday morning with the details. She likes to be in charge.”

  “That sounds on-brand.” No doubt Detective Trish Suarez was the social director. She’d already hit Dylan up for a contribution to the office coffee fund and asked for a commitment to attend the staff holiday party.

  “Nieves rarely shows face, but Hollander makes an appearance once in a while.” Trevor swirled his soda can like he was gearing up for the last sip.

  “Cool. Miri’s nice. I used to see her out sometimes.”

  “Like in…um…” His voice trailed off, and she wondered if he wasn’t sure how to articulate referencing the gay scene without offending her.

  “In bars near me.” On second thought, she wasn’t sure if Miri was out at work. Most of the female gay cops she knew were—the NYPD was a notoriously lesbian-friendly place—but she didn’t know Miri that well. Better to be vague than blow up her life. “I think she used to date someone from my neighborhood.”

  “She used to date Trish,” Trevor said. He followed his statement with a finger over his lips.

  “No way.” Even though Dylan had picked up some vibes from Trish, this piece of information was still shocking to her.

  “Shhh.” Trevor repeated his request for discretion. “You can’t say anything. It did not end well.”

  “I won’t say a word—I promise.” She wondered if it was an open secret. “Does everybody know, though?”

  “I don’t think so. I only pieced it together from context clues. Hollander was pretty busted up over it. She can still barely look at Trish. I talk to them both a fair amount. A few months back they were both being super vague about bad breakups. Then I happened to be in the break room with them a few times. The tension”—he opened his eyes wide—“forget it. You could cut that shit with a knife.”

  “Look at you. Using your detective skills and your gaydar.”

  “I’m all about using all the tools in my arsenal.” He held up both hands. “Not that I’m…I just mean…I’m not, but no judgment…” He took a deep breath and covered his chest with one hand. “Love is love,” he said.

  “Relax, buddy. You’re straight. I got it.” She laughed at his mini panic. “I just watched you check with your girlfriend to make sure you were allowed out Friday night,” she added, teasing him.

  “That’s basic manners, bro. Plus I used that opportunity to invite Cate to join us. So, there.”

  “Your girlfriend—Cate—is she a cop too?”

  “She is.” He swallowed the last of his drink and nodded. “But on the federal side. She’s an agent with Homeland Security. You’ll like her. Everyone does.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “What about you?” He fiddled with the tab on his soda can. “What’s your deal? Girlfriend? Wife?” He paused. “Boyfriend?”

  Dylan fanned over her body to focus his attention to her attire and also to her overall vibe. “Boyfriend? Really?” She was sure the look in her eyes echoed the challenge in her tone. “You just finished telling me how attuned you are to the modern world. Clue into this, brother.”

  “No, I get it. I get it.” He laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “Still, far be it from me to make any assumptions.”

  She actually appreciated Trevor’s approach, but playing with him was still fun.

  “No wife. No girlfriend.”

  “Playing the field?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Trish will probably invite the crew from Major Case Team 4 on Friday night. We back each other up when extra hands are needed on deck. They’re working on a carjacking thing out of their office on the fifth floor. I only mention it because there’s some single women there.” He shrugged. “If you’re looking.”

  Dylan was always looking. Unfortunately, right now she only had eyes for one specific person. It was foolish. And limiting. And off the table. Did that make it more appealing?

  Trevor crumpled his garbage into a ball and angled for a shot at the trash bin. “Think I can sink this?”

  “First round on Friday says you don’t,” she said.

  “You’re on.” He took an extra second to square his shoulders before launching a jump shot.

  “And you’re off”—she winced in secondhand embarrassment as his shot sailed wide—“by a mile.”

  “That was ugly.” He grabbed his own rebound. “I need a do-over. Double or nothing?”

  “Go for it,” she conceded with a wave of her arm. “I may not even bring my wallet at this point.”

  “Heads up, guys.” Detective Karrakas’s voice crackled through the handheld radio on the bench. “Our boy is headed southbound on the FDR.”

  Trevor reached for the radio. “Copy that.”

  “Saved by the perp on the move.” Dylan collected her stuff and geared up for action.

  “I’ll take it,” he said with a laugh. “Let’s roll.”

  * * *

  It was barely five o’clock, and Baxter’s was already buzzing with the Friday feels. The start of the weekend always brought a party atmosphere, but the team’s energy was boosted today by a trifecta surveillance featuring George Rivas, Benji Goldenballs Rafferty, and their sophisticated looking puppet master that Dylan had recognized as Paul from the night of the overhear.

  “Coming through.” Trevor’s deep voice bellowed above the happy hour crowd as he lowered a tray of shots on the high-top table. He doled them out and raised his shot glass high in the air. “To this fucking amazing team.”

  “To us,” Karrakas said, ready to pound.

  “Hold on, hold on,” Trish said. “Let’s take a second to officially welcome our newest member. We tease her as the rookie of the crew, but the truth is, Dylan, without you, we’d all still be in the freaking dark on this caper.”

  “Hear, hear.” Trevor seconded the gesture.

  “To Dylan,” the gang cheered in messy unison as they downed tequila.

  Dylan couldn’t help but be moved. Even though it was cheesy, their praise felt genuine and honest.

  She was so busy drowning in sentimentality that she almost missed the entrance of the legal team. The lawyers and interns were all smiles as they greeted the detectives, scooting past to claim a free table. It might have been her imagination, but Dylan would swear that she felt Briana’s hand brush her back when she squeezed by.

  “Dom, those girls are checking us out.” Karrakas elbowed his partner and nodded toward two women at a table near the front window. “Hurry up and finish your beer so we can go buy them a round. I call dibs on the ginger.”

  Dylan shook her head. If circumstances were different she would have educated him on the spot that women
weren’t property to be claimed even, and perhaps especially, as part of flirting. But her whole focus was on the sight of Briana at the bar, and she downed her beer just for an excuse to get another.

  “Next one’s on me,” she said to Trevor and Trish as she headed to the bar.

  It was too eager, but she hadn’t seen Briana in forever, and she wasn’t taking any chance of missing the opportunity to talk to her.

  “Hey there,” she said sidling alongside Briana.

  “Hi, Dylan.” Briana smiled but didn’t make eye contact. “Are you having fun? I heard you guys caught a good meet today.”

  “We did.” Dylan looked around to assess the makeup of the crowd. Baxter’s was a cop bar, and the clientele was mostly made up of their colleagues from the police department and the US Attorney’s Office. It was probably safe enough to discuss the details, but she didn’t want to talk work. She wanted to ask Briana about her life. Find out what she had been up to in the last two weeks and where she’d been hiding. She wanted to keep it social, in hopes there might be an opening to invite Briana to the rec league championship and afterparty on Sunday. “Do you need a drink?” she asked, but as she said it, the bartender delivered Briana’s chardonnay.

  “I should get back to my people.” Briana nodded toward her staff in the corner and lightly tapped Dylan’s forearm. “See you later.”

  What the fuck just happened? Not blurring the lines was one thing. But this interaction was barely cordial. Even her touch seemed…distant. Unnecessary, but also cold. Her head was spinning. Against her better judgment she watched Briana saunter away and sit down, hoping for a last glance, a final look, something.

  Zilch.

  Dylan let out a deep breath, trying to release her negative energy. She was a grown-up—she could do this. She collected her ego from the floor and returned to her crowd with a round of drinks.

  “You must be Cate,” she said to Trevor’s girlfriend, who had arrived in her short absence. “I’m Dylan.” She extended her hand in greeting. “Your boyfriend neglected to tell me what you drink.” She lobbed a playful wink at Trevor. And just like that, she bounced back.

  Her team made it easy. She spent most of the night in a pleasant foursome with Trevor and Trish and Cate. It was fun and lighthearted as the conversation bounced between work and life. Cate teased Trevor openly, but he obviously loved it. They were sweet together. After a while a few detectives from one of the other squads joined their crowd, and Dylan recognized one of them from her police academy class. The entire night she resisted the urge to even look in Briana’s direction but somehow still felt her presence the whole time. Even now, she struggled to avoid trying to figure out who had her attention.

  “Word on the street is that you’re single.” Trish stood slightly too close, her eyes glassy and her speech slurred.

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “I have sources.” She ran a manicured fingernail along the rim of her glass. “I am a detective, you know.”

  “I did hear that,” Dylan played back.

  “Is it true, or should I be vetting my intel more carefully?”

  Dylan laughed. Trish was adorable. Even in her altered state her big brown eyes stood out. Long silky hair and gorgeous curves didn’t hurt either.

  “You can keep your confidential informant on the payroll,” Dylan said, confirming her relationship status.

  “Good to know.”

  “What about you?” she asked even though she had some of the details. “What’s your story?”

  “Single and available.” Trish licked her full lips.

  “I’ll be sure to file that information away,” she said. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, saving her. Dylan knew better than to hook up with a detective on her team. Especially the ex her sergeant was still pining over.

  “Uh-oh. Looks like I have competition,” Trish teased.

  Dylan smiled as she waved her phone. “I should answer this. Excuse me.” She stepped outside the bar and took the call.

  “Hello, Cynthia.”

  “I hate when you call me that.”

  “It is your name.”

  “Can’t you just call me Mom?”

  “I guess.” She crooned into the phone, “Hi, Mom.”

  “Kevin told me you got transferred. Is everything okay?”

  “Of course it’s okay. Why would you assume my transfer is a bad thing?”

  “Well, I’ve been texting you. You don’t answer me.”

  “What are you talking about? I messaged you back the other day.”

  “Two lines, Dylan. And you didn’t say anything about your transfer. I’m your mother. You should be telling me these things.”

  Her mother was only needy when it suited her. There was something else going on here. She racked her brain to figure it out.

  “How did Kevin hear about my transfer?” Her mother’s husband was a veteran patrol guy with over twenty years of service. They worked in different boroughs, in different divisions. Their paths never crossed.

  “I asked him to check on you. See if you were still alive.” Typical Cynthia. So dramatic. “Kevin’s birthday is tomorrow,” her mom continued. “You don’t call me. You don’t text. How am I supposed to know if you’re even coming?”

  There it was. Dylan swallowed a small chuckle. This call was entirely about party planning.

  “I’ll be there, Mom.” She peered into the bar, but the table where the lawyers were seated was obscured by patrons milling about. It was probably a good thing. She had no desire to see Briana giving her attention to anyone who wasn’t her. “What time’s the party start?”

  “We’ll eat around five. But come whenever you want. Your brothers miss you.”

  “Okay, Mom. I’ll come out early.”

  She hung her head and made her decision right on the spot. It was time to head back to Brooklyn. Tomorrow’s full day of family would require all her energy. Kevin would no doubt have a zillion questions about work, and her mom would pry into her love life. Zach and Conor, her teenage half-brothers, would demand one-on-one matchups on loop in the driveway basketball court. She’d collapse before letting them win.

  Plus, Briana was inside giving her zero attention, while Trish was down to party. Absolutely no good would come from that dynamic.

  Chapter Six

  “I need a caffeine boost for this. You interested?”

  Dylan watched Trevor upload Friday’s surveillance photos of Paul Last-Name-Unknown as they prepared to cross-reference the police department’s mug shot database. With any luck Paul would have a record, and they’d be able to fully identify him.

  “I’m good. Better make yours strong, though.” Trevor focused on the computer screen. “We’re going to be here scouring pics all freaking day.”

  “My point exactly. I’ll bring you a cup in case you start to nod off,” she said as she shuffled out of the plant’s wire room.

  She felt for her wallet, on the fence over whether to make coffee in the office or run across the street to Gregory’s. The decision became a no-brainer when she spotted Briana fiddling with the Keurig machine in the break area.

  Dylan stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Hello.” Briana called out the greeting over her shoulder like her presence in the plant was an everyday occurrence.

  It was not.

  In fact, Dylan had never seen her in the squad area before today. It took her a full three seconds to respond. “Hi.”

  “Morning,” Briana said. “How was your weekend?”

  “Fine.” She shook her head, still trying to process what Briana was doing on the third floor instead of the law offices on ten. “Sorry. It was fine. How about yours?”

  “You left early Friday night,” Briana said over the squeak of a cabinet door as she closed it and opened another one.

  Dylan looked around dramatically to make a point. “You are talking to me, right?” She tilted her head from side to side. “Because Friday you barely spoke to me, and now you�
��re all buddy-buddy, so…” She waved between them letting her sentence trail off.

  “You’re the one who left early,” Briana challenged with a lyrical tone as she searched another cabinet.

  “Not like you noticed,” she said, meeting Briana’s spirited, if confusing energy.

  “I think I just pointed out that I did notice.” Briana opened and closed a drawer, still on the hunt for something. “Was the Downtown vibe too bland for you? You went back to Brooklyn, I assume?”

  Dylan was completely into the fact that Briana was curious where she’d gone after she left, but she wasn’t done deconstructing the happy hour scene yet.

  “I actually tried to talk to you at the bar, if you remember. You blew me off.”

  “I didn’t.” Briana shifted her weight to one hip and leaned against the counter. Her expression softened, and she scrunched her nose up in the most adorable way. “I’m sorry if it seemed that way. It’s just that my supervisor was there. And my staff.” She tapped her finger on the edge of the counter. “I felt like I had to put in legit face time for a good portion of the night. Then when I finally could scoot away, you guys were all in a group, knee deep in war stories.”

  “Your presence would have been a welcome interruption, I assure you.”

  “Eh, it felt weird.” She shrugged. “I looked for you again later, but you were gone. Off to greener pastures.”

  “More like my apartment.”

  “Really? I figured you were out on the town in our hood.”

  It was the second time Briana made that point, and even though Dylan was dying to know if that thought made her even the slightest bit envious, they were having a nice conversation, and she didn’t want to ruin it by pushing too hard. “I just went home. I had a family thing all day Saturday.”

  “Oh yeah? Out on the Island?”

  She nodded. “My mother’s husband’s birthday.”

  “Your mother’s husband. Does that mean your stepfather?”

  “Technically, I suppose.” Kevin was a decent enough person, but she never thought of him as a father figure. Bestowing such a significant title on him just felt odd. “Kevin’s a good guy. He makes my mom happy, but he was never really a dad to me. I never even lived with them.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to justify his label, but Briana seemed to accept her explanation. “What about you? What did you do this weekend?”