Nine Cocktails

by J. V. Speyer

  “Easy for you to say.” Paige sighed and turned back to a customer looking for a Pegu Club. She knew Abby was right, but knowing she was right didn’t make it any easier to follow her instructions. Abby had been in worse situations. Cops had people looking to kill them all the time, and hadn’t she been in the army?

  All this was new to Paige.

  If she couldn’t feel calm, she could fake it. She smiled and talked her way through the rest of her shift, and helped clean up after they were done. Maybe tonight would be Jack’s night off from creepy stalking. Maybe he’d stay home, watch a game, put his feet up. Maybe he’d watch a porno and keep himself entertained, and not murder anyone for once.

  When the shift was over, Abby escorted Paige out into the night. Congress Street was one of those old Boston streets, dark and narrow. It was foggy too, given the difference between daytime and nighttime temperatures. It wasn’t terrible, but a slight haze hung over the street and gave every light an eerie nimbus.

  Paige sealed her mouth as they walked toward Summer Street, where the car waited for them. This late at night every little sound seemed amplified, whether it was footsteps against cobblestones or two people whispering in an alley. Noise from cars trying to get onto the highway never quite went away, even this late, but it made a kind of white noise backdrop. She wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence. She didn’t dare do anything that might give Jack cover if he tried to come at them in the two blocks between Summer Street and the bar.

  Their feet didn’t make a lot of sound against the pavement. It was easy to pick up on other sounds. Paige jumped when she heard a barking dog, which brought a smile to Abby’s face. She put a hand on Paige’s arm.

  “Hey. It’s okay. It’s just the local wildlife.”

  “People live around here?” Paige glanced around furtively.

  “Not many, but a few do.” Abby linked arms with Paige. “It’s mostly businesses, but there are a few condos around here.”

  Paige nodded and looked at the ground. How long had she been working down here, and she didn’t know that? She focused on putting one foot in front of the other. They didn’t have far to go. She could see Mark’s car down at the end of the street.

  And she could hear someone else behind them.

  Out of the blue, Abby knocked Paige to the ground. She carried the motion through, drawing her gun and bringing it into firing position as she did so. “Freeze! Boston Police!” she barked, in a tone that made Paige stop even her own breathing. How could Jack, or some other assailant, keep coming in the face of that?

  “You think I’m afraid of you, bitch?” Jack stepped out from an alley. “Bitch, I’ve faced down Al Qaeda. I’m not afraid of you. Give me my woman and you’re free to go.”

  Abby didn’t even blink. “I’ve seen your service record, Kavanaugh. You served your two years in a supply depot. Put the gun down, put your hands behind your head, and exercise your right to keep silent.”

  Paige bit down on the inside of her cheek. How had Abby known? Paige hadn’t seen him, hadn’t heard him, and she knew better than anyone else what Jack’s feet sounded like.

  Two explosions went off, one following the other so closely they might as well have been fired at the same time. Jack screamed an obscenity and ran down the alley. Abby clutched her side and doubled over.

  This close, Paige could see tears in Abby’s eyes. Footsteps raced down Congress Street as Mark and some other cops ran down the sidewalk, toward Abby.

  Paige sat up and helped Abby down onto the ground. “Oh my God. You’re shot!”

  Abby hissed as Mark arrived on the scene. He probed at the wound and used his radio to call for backup. “We need an ambulance and backup at Congress and A Street. We have an officer down. Suspect fled the scene.”

  Abby hissed with pain and seized the radio from him. Her voice was stretched thin with pain as she spoke. “This is Detective Abigail Morgan. Suspect has fled on foot, heading north on Thompson. He is armed and dangerous, and suspect has an injury to the upper body.”

  Paige couldn’t feel her hands, but she probed at Abby’s injury. “That’s a lot of blood.” She didn’t have anything to bandage it with. She covered it with her hands. God, that was Abby’s blood spilling hot over her fingers. Her gorge rose. She couldn’t lose it now. She had to hold it down for Abby’s sake.

  Abby hissed at the pressure. “Yeah. Yeah, the bastard shot me. It’s just a graze. Come on, we can get him if we try.”

  “Stay down, Abby.” Mark sighed as one of the unnamed cops pulled his gun to stand guard. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Abby flipped him off. “So you and Rogers go! There’s two of you and you’re a damn sight faster than he’ll be. I know I got him in the arm. He’ll be leaving a long trail.”

  “Abby, we’ll get him, but we’re not leaving you alone. That’s final.” Mark held up a hand and then turned to Paige. “Are you okay?”

  Paige stared at him. “This is my fault.” She looked down at Abby. “She wouldn’t…she’d be fine if it weren’t for me.”

  “No. It’s that jackass’s fault. He had the opportunity to surrender and made a different choice.” Abby growled the words out. Her face glowed with sweat reflecting the street lights. “This is his fault and his alone, and I cannot wait to take him down.”

  Abby could say whatever she wanted, but Paige knew the truth. Abby could have died tonight, and Paige would have been the one to nail her coffin shut.

  Chapter 7

  Abby slammed her phone down onto the couch. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Mark didn’t sigh. He didn’t even roll his eyes. He wanted to. Abby didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. She’d be thinking the same thing under the circumstances. Instead, he just raised one bushy eyebrow. “How are those ribs feeling, sugar lips?”

  “My ribs are fine. The bandages itch. I’m fine, Mark. It’s just a graze. Not only is Creepy Stalker Boy a creepy stalker, but he’s a lousy shot.” She glowered at the phone. “Cop Shot in Wild Seaport Gun Battle. That rag needs to be shut down, like tomorrow.”

  “The first amendment is for other people, I suppose.” Paige edged closer to her.

  Abby blushed. “Sorry. Shutting down a newspaper because it exaggerated something might be a little excessive, but not by much. It’s ridiculous. We should at least sue. It’s a complete fabrication.”

  Paige angled her body to face Abby. “Abby, it’s not a fabrication. You were shot, in the chest. It wasn’t a bad hit and I’m glad, but it’s not because he’s a bad shot. It’s because you got down. You knew where he was and got out of the way. Give yourself the credit and stop downplaying the incident, would you?” Her hands trembled as she spoke.

  Guilt hit Abby like a punch. She wasn’t used to people caring. Even the paper, despite the way they described the fight with Jack, didn’t care that a cop had been injured. They cared about increasing readership and scaring suburban white readers concerned about crime rates.

  “Hey. It’s okay.” Abby took Paige’s hands in hers. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re going to get him, okay? This guy doesn’t get to control your life. He got away, but we’ll get him. We got the warrant.”

  Paige shook her head, dark hair falling across her eyes. “It’s not okay. You got shot. Don’t you get that? He shot you. He could have killed you!”

  “She’s got a point.” Mark cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “I mean there’s always a risk when someone’s undercover, but she’s right to be concerned. We’re both concerned. We’re all concerned.”

  “Oh my God. Do I need to remind you all that I shot him, too? I’m not some…some delicate flower, okay? I knew the risks when I signed up, and I defended myself just fine.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The first time she’d gotten shot in the army, her commanding officer had freaked out on her in much the same way. Abby didn’t have time for that kind of thing. She had a killer to catch.

&
nbsp; “I got an earful and a half from your stepbrother. Steve-o said if I let it happen again, he was going to ‘kick me in the nads, and the badge wasn’t going to save me.’” Mark winced. “I thought you said he worked in finance.”

  “He does. He’s all gentrified and stuff. Mostly.” Abby tossed out a smirk. “He’s a good egg, you know?”

  “He threatens cops?” Paige blew out a whistle. “Must be nice. For real, Abby. I need for you to be serious about this. Can’t you understand why this scares me so much?”

  “I can understand it.” Abby took a deep breath. “I just - it’s not a big deal, you know?” She searched for the words, but she wasn’t great with words. If her family had taught her anything, it was that words were worth about as much as sand. She was better with action.

  “The job is mostly boring,” she said finally. “You’ll spend an entire day trawling for someone’s last known location, sifting through traffic cameras, that kind of thing. A lot of what gets said, about how every day could be our last and that stuff, it’s an exaggeration. Cops have never been safer than we are right now.”

  “But the job does have its risks. And we know it. We take the job knowing those risks are out there. And most of us don’t let it bother us. We put one foot in front of the other, we take reasonable precautions, and we get the job done. Sometimes stuff happens. That doesn’t make it okay to go around shooting cops, don’t get me wrong. But I can’t just stop doing my job and go losing my mind because some jackass has some deeply wrong ideas about women.”

  Paige looked up into Abby’s eyes. “But you could have died.”

  “Paige, either one of us could get hit by a bus tomorrow. The only difference is that it would have been deliberate action.” Abby gave Paige’s hand a little squeeze. “The important thing is taking Jack off the street. We can’t let him keep going around and thinking he gets to control women. Can we agree on that?”

  Paige bit her lip. “Okay, but it’s my fault you got hurt.”

  Abby shook her head and wrapped her arms around Paige. She didn’t care that Mark was right there. She only wanted to soothe Paige’s guilt, and maybe kick the knees out of whoever had put it there in the first place. “Paige, honey, you’re amazing. You can do so many things, and you’re stronger than just about anyone I’ve ever met, but you didn’t pull that trigger. Jack did. You didn’t choose to stalk someone. Jack did. None of this is your fault.”

  Paige swallowed hard. Abby could feel it against her arm. “If I’d just done what he wanted in the first place none of this would have happened.”

  Abby had no idea how to respond to that. Fortunately for her, Mark had a response ready. “No. Hell no. You don’t owe anyone yourself. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself to give his ego a boost. He would never have stopped making your life miserable, and again, you don’t owe misery to anyone. You deserve a safe and good life. I’m pissed as hell that Abby got shot, but I’m not pissed at you.”

  Paige finally let go and cried into Abby’s shirt. Abby stroked her back, unsure what else she could do to soothe her friend. She fell asleep eventually, and Mark carried her into the bedroom as if she didn’t weigh more than the average blanket.

  He came back into the living room and sat down, elbows on his knees. “She does have one point, you know.”

  “If you even think about pretending it’s her fault, I’m going to smack you.” Abby met his eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not playing.”

  Mark laughed softly. “I know you’re not. I know a lot of stalking victims hear that, and wind up internalizing it. It’s not her fault at all and I’d tear out my own tongue before I said it was. No, you do need to be serious.”

  Abby groaned and flopped back against the couch. “Not you, too.”

  “Abby, you got shot!” Mark stood up and threw his hands into the air. “Actually shot, with a bullet, in the middle of the street. It’s in the papers. Your parents are going to come down here and lose their minds.”

  “My parents aren’t going to care, Mark. Steve-o is the only one I even talk to. And it’s not even the first time I’ve been shot, okay? I didn’t ride a desk in the army, remember?” Abby rolled her eyes. “Why does everyone forget that? It’s annoying. Yes, the graze hurts. No, it’s not going to stop me. Can we move on and get back out to arrest that son of a bitch before he does something worse?”

  “Worse than shooting a cop?” Mark pursed his lips.

  “Well he could hit this time.” Abby was going to lose vision if she rolled her eyes any harder. “For real. I hit him somewhere, he’s going to need to get attention for it. Are we hitting the hospitals, looking for gunshot wound victims?”

  “We have done this before, Abby. And they have to report gunshot victims, it’s the law. So far, we haven’t gotten anywhere. And we’ve executed a search warrant on his home and studio. We found some pretty obsessive research about both Austin Connolly and about you, inasmuch as he could find in a couple of weeks. So we’ll get him, once we find him. But for now he’s in the wind.”

  “Shit.” Abby took a deep breath, ignoring the way her skin pulled where the bullet had grazed her. “How extensive was his research?” She didn’t ask if Jack knew where she lived, because she was pretty sure she knew the answer. She didn’t ask if he knew about Steve-o and his family, because she didn’t know if she could live with herself if she did.

  Maybe Paige wasn’t the only one who’d internalized an inappropriate guilt complex.

  “Enough that we’ve got a small army on this place. Just as we would if he were targeting a civilian.” Mark rolled his neck, trying to stretch it out. “You know it’s not a gender thing. We’d be freaking out if it were any of us. And there’s a reason they’ve decided not to publicize just how serious, or not serious, your injury is.”

  Abby bit the inside of her cheek until her anger subsided. “You’re trying to let him think I’m vulnerable. More vulnerable than I am.”

  “Bingo. We want him to come out. We want him to feel bold. Wasn’t that the whole point behind this whole exercise?” Mark sat back down. “For the record, I’m still opposed to it. The stunt where you fake a relationship to get a bad guy to come after you.”

  “Lt. Holmes agreed to it.” Abby closed her eyes.

  “I know. Lt. Holmes also isn’t known for valuing his assets. That’s you, for the record. I remember the army too. I remember what it’s like to be cannon fodder. We’re not those guys anymore. That attitude was frowned on when we were in the army, but we’re out now and our job is very different. We don’t need to go throwing ourselves onto a grenade. We can use our brains.”

  Abby stared at him. Did he really think she was sacrificing herself for a case? Was she sacrificing herself for a case? “That’s not what’s going on here, Mark. Yeah, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get this guy but I’m not going to do it stupidly.” She leered at him. “I was army, not marines.”

  “Hey, two of my brothers were marines.” He sounded stern, but Abby could see the twinkle of amusement in his eye.

  “Oh, I know. Why do you think I put it exactly that way?” They both laughed, remembering the age-old rivalry between branches. “You know I’m not going to go looking for an injury or worse. For one thing, it would make my stepdad too happy. For another, you see how Paige is just from me getting that little tiny cut. Can you imagine what a wreck she’d be if I got a serious injury on this case?” She shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t do that to her.”

  “You really like her, don’t you?” Mark’s whole face softened, the same way it did when he talked about his kid or his wife.

  Abby hesitated. Was it a good idea to admit to anything right now? Probably not. Still, this was Mark. Abby shouldn’t hide things from Mark. “Yeah. I do. She’s a good person, and she’s fun to be around. I know we’re just faking it for the case but I still don’t want to hurt her.”

  Mark shrugged. “You never know. Things could go your way. Once the adrenaline and fe
ar and everything are gone, you might find you can build something real.”

  Abby snorted. “She deserves to be with someone better, someone with something to offer beyond a handful of tattoos and late-night phone calls about bodies in smelly locations.” She waved a hand. “Trust me, once this is over the world will be her oyster. And I’ll be the one cheering her on the loudest. But the last thing she needs is a cop ten years older than her, weighing her down.”

  * * * *

  Paige woke up in Abby’s bed, alone. The pillows smelled like Abby, like that weird lavender shampoo she used. Paige’s clothes were still in a bag, on a bench by the wall. She didn’t remember falling asleep in Abby’s room, but with her face in Abby’s shoulder, bawling her eyes out.

  Dignity was something that other people got to worry about, most likely while the objects of their affections weren’t bleeding from gunshot wounds.

  Paige recognized how much privilege she had. She’d been born in Boston, one of her parents’ younger children. She hadn’t had to undergo the horrors of the Khmer Rouge. Guns and war were new to her, although she’d spent her whole life hearing about them. Her father had taken off when she was young because he couldn’t get the echoes of gun fire out of his mind.

  In the end he’d taken his own life. The Khmer Rouge hadn’t managed to kill him directly, but what they’d done had killed him all the same.

  Paige hadn’t understood then. She thought she had. Now that she’d felt Abby’s hot blood leaking over her fingers, she knew she couldn’t understand what her father had gone through before his death. Abby was still alive, and apparently unbothered by the fact that a bullet had come close enough to her heart to cut across her skin and blister it. Paige had come so close to losing her.

  How many others had her father lost, and her mother? They hadn’t spoken of them often. Her mother, in her less harried moments, admitted it was too painful.

  Paige had dreamed while she slept. She’d dreamed the bullet had traveled slightly to the left, piercing Abby’s chest instead of cutting just past it. Abby and Mark insisted she wasn’t responsible, but it was easy for them to say that. No one had murdered anyone because of them. Hell, no one had tried to kill a cop because of them.