Trail of Danger

by Valerie Hansen

  It had taken Reed a split second to realize there was no way to take evasive action. Even if he had seen the danger long before they were hit, he couldn’t have maneuvered out of the way. A box truck had left the alley accelerating, tires squealing, and had smashed into the Chevy Tahoe before he’d had time to even brace himself.

  Glass had shattered from the impact. They slid across the street into oncoming traffic and barely missed connecting with a city bus before jumping the curb and coming to rest against a power pole. Thankfully, their speed had slowed enough by then to keep that damage to a minimum.

  Reed shouted. Abigail screamed. Around them, cars bumped each other like a line of toppling dominoes.

  He’d felt the seat belt bruising his ribs as he’d mashed down the brake with all his strength. It was hard to let up once the vehicle came to rest but he knew he had to.

  “Are you all right?” he shouted to Abigail.

  “I—I think so. I saw the truck coming but I didn’t have time to warn you.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered.” As the airbags collapsed he was able to reach the ignition and shut off the engine, then key his radio and identify himself before saying, “I’m ten-fifty-three H. Hit and run. Just got T-boned by a white box truck that is now headed west on Surf Avenue.”

  “Copy,” the dispatcher radioed back. “License?”

  “Didn’t get it,” Reed replied with disgust. “I had a face full of airbag.”

  “Copy that. Injuries?”

  “Negative, as far as I know, but I’m not the only one hit. It’s going to take half the cops in Brighton Beach to sort out this mess.”

  “Affirmative. Units on the way.”

  He unfastened his seat belt and swiveled to face Abigail. “You’re sure you aren’t hurt?”

  She was brushing off crystal-shaped bits of tempered glass. “My shoulder is kind of sore, that’s all.”

  “Probably from the belt or the airbag,” he explained. “Anything else? Did you hit your head?”

  “No. How about you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Her voice rose. “Oh, no! What about the dogs?”

  “I’ll go check them. You stay put while I try to convince all these motorists that the police are on their way and there’s no need to fight over who’s to blame.”

  “I’ll tell them it wasn’t your fault,” she vowed. Her fingertips brushed Reed’s forearm as he left the damaged vehicle, sending a spark of awareness racing along his nerves.

  How like Abigail to think of others first. Most of the women he knew, and half the guys, would be complaining their heads off. She, however, was concerned about him and the dogs.

  Circling, Reed opened the hatchback and began to examine both dogs. Neither seemed injured but the pup was trembling in fright. He leashed Jessie first, then Midnight, and brought them around to Abigail while bystanders jostled and pushed past each other to capture everything on their cell phone cameras. It would be too much to hope that one of the onlookers had taken pictures of the truck that hit him, but he’d have incoming officers check anyway. Judging by the lights and sirens pulling up to the snarl, he’d have plenty of help.

  The passenger door was caved in, its mechanism jammed, so Reed spoke to Abigail through the shattered side window. “See if you can slide out the other door without getting cut on this broken glass. If you can’t get over the console, I’ll have the fire department pry this side open.”

  “I think I can do it.” She managed a lopsided smile. “If I can stop shaking long enough.”

  She wasn’t the only one, he admitted to himself. It might not show on the outside but his guts were churning. Was it possible that the truck had hit them on purpose? The more he thought about it, the more he wondered.

  A bigger question was, who was the target? His K-9 unit had suffered its share of attacks lately, beginning with the unsolved murder of Chief Jameson. It was possible the truck driver had seen the logo and had smashed into the blue-and-white SUV because he hated cops, especially K-9 ones.

  On the other hand, Reed speculated, the passenger side had taken the hardest hit. Abigail’s side. Anybody who had watched them walk back to the parking lot would have known who was on board with him and which seat she was occupying. Plus, this was her home turf. Perhaps her sense of ongoing menace wasn’t all in her imagination.

  He hurried back to the driver’s door to help her climb out, then shepherded her onto the sidewalk before handing her both dogs’ leashes. “Stay right here. You’ll be safe. I need to go speak with the arriving officers.”

  The pleading look in those blue eyes nearly undid him. When she asked, “Do you have to?” Reed knew instantly that he wasn’t going anywhere. Not until he’d arranged for a policewoman to stay with her.

  “No,” he said tenderly, “we can let them come to us.”

  When she sighed softly and sagged back against the side of the brick building where they stood, it was all he could do to keep from taking her in his arms and offering comfort.

  Instead, he displayed his badge for the patrolman who was working his way through the crowd, clearly searching for the wreck’s driver.

  As the throng parted, Reed noticed two people in particular who weren’t acting interested in the wreck, the dogs or the police presence. One was heavy and wearing a baseball cap while the other was thinner and peering between taller spectators. Clenching his jaw, he stared at them, then took out his cell phone, intending to photograph their faces.

  By the time he held it up and zeroed in on the place where they had been, they had melted into the crowd. He lowered the phone and searched for them, deciding that they must have separated.

  Abigail touched his shoulder, distracting him for the millisecond it took to lose track of the bigger guy in the baseball cap. Since he had nothing to show her, he chose to keep the incident to himself. But he wouldn’t forget those men. They’d been standing stock-still, glaring directly at Abigail.

  * * *

  If Abigail had not had two loving, attentive canines at her feet and a policewoman close by, watching, she figured she’d have lapsed into hysterics long before she and Reed were allowed to leave the site of the wreck.

  So weary she was almost tempted to sit on the dirty sidewalk, she perked up when she saw him approaching. The smile on his face was a plus. “Can we leave?”

  “Yes, as soon as I transfer my gear to the replacement vehicle my unit is sending.” He inclined his head toward the smashed SUV. “I broke that one.”

  “Not by yourself. You had help.”

  “No kidding. That’s why they want to tow it even if it’s drivable. Crime scene techs need to go over it before it’s repaired and put back in service.”

  Many locals had lost interest in the scene and drifted off, leaving the sidewalk fairly clear. Firefighters were rolling up hoses they’d positioned as standby. Someone with an impressive-looking camera and an NYPD jacket was circling the scene and snapping photo after photo. A tow truck driver was hooking his implements to the rear bumper of the wreck.

  Abigail did feel a little calmer by then, but she wasn’t through being edgy. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck was prickling as if she were sunburned despite standing in the shade of the brick building.

  Surprisingly, Reed scowled. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt after all?”

  She shook her head. “No. Why? Do I look that bad?”

  “I can have an EMT from the fire department look you over. It’s no big deal.” The frown deepened. “Tell me the truth.”

  “I am telling you the truth. I wasn’t hurt. It’s just...”

  Reed stepped closer, scanning their surroundings and finding nothing amiss. “Just what?”

  “Nerves.” Her voice wasn’t as self-assured as she would have liked, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Understood.
I should have had one of the other officers take you home earlier. Sorry.”

  “I probably would have argued with you then, but it has been a long day.” She was scanning the street. “Look. Is that the car we’re waiting for?”

  “Yes. About time, too.” Stepping off the curb, he flagged down an SUV identical to his. It pulled over and he leaned in the passenger side window. Abigail trailed after him, surprised to see a grinning uniformed woman behind the wheel. A closer look told her the pretty brunette was also a K-9 cop. And she was taunting Reed.

  “That’s some fender bender, Branson. You plan to polish out the dings on your lunch hour?”

  Reed huffed. “It’s gonna take a lot more than elbow grease to fix that mess.” He noted Abigail’s arrival over his shoulder and made introductions. “Brianne, this is Ms. Jones. Abigail. She was the victim of an incident that Jessie and I worked at Coney Island a few nights ago.”

  “And...?”

  “And, she’ll be fostering one of Stella’s pups for us. The sweet one that was returned after failing the initial assessment for police work.”

  “Let’s hope she can still become a service dog.” Looking past Reed, she said, “Nice to meet you, Abigail. I take it you have the necessary experience?”

  “Well, I...” Lying was wrong, yet she loved the puppy already and did want to keep her.

  “I’m going to be assisting until Ms. Jones is well prepared,” Reed said. “So, how is Stella coming along?”

  “Fine. Don’t change the subject. Has this placement been approved by Noah?”

  “He approved a trial placement,” Reed informed Brianne. “Now, if you’re ready I’ll load the dogs and we’ll drop you at headquarters.”

  “Won’t be necessary,” the other K-9 officer said, leaving the SUV. “I’ll catch a ride in one of the patrol cars.” She cast a sidelong glance at Abigail and raised her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t want to cramp your style, Branson.”

  “It’s not like that,” Reed insisted. “This is community service. And I’m on my own time.”

  “If you say so.” By the time Brianne started to turn away, she was grinning.

  Concerned, Abigail followed Reed around to the rear in case he needed her to help. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “Don’t mind her. All cops tend to be cynical. If it looks suspicious, it probably is. That doesn’t mean she’s right. My boss understands why I brought Midnight to you.”

  “Something tells me it wasn’t only for the dog’s sake.”

  “What difference does it make? We need good foster homes and you can provide one. If you happen to get personal benefit from the placement, it’s win-win.”

  “I don’t want to do anything wrong.”

  “Let me worry about that, okay? Now climb in. I was starving before we were attacked and—”

  “We were what? I thought this was an accident.” She could tell by his expression that he hadn’t meant to reveal so much.

  Once she got that notion in her head, it was impossible to erase it. If the truck slamming into them was trying to hurt them, then the whole incident began to make sense. It had zoomed out of that alley so fast she’d barely had time to gasp, let alone shout a warning to Reed. Yes, New Yorkers had a reputation for aggressive driving, but entering traffic so carelessly wasn’t something a delivery driver would do if he wanted to keep his job.

  “I never looked at the faces of the people in the truck,” she said ruefully. “Maybe if I had, I’d have gotten over my temporary amnesia and recognized them.”

  “Or maybe they had a beef with all cops and wanted to take one out,” Reed countered. “You can’t be sure they intended to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me?” Abigail gave an ironic-sounding chuckle. “If it was connected to the attack in Luna Park, I suspect somebody wanted to do more than just hurt me. Those people don’t know my memory is gone so they probably believe I can ID them for whatever they’ve done.” She swallowed hard. “I think they hoped to permanently eliminate the threat. Namely, me.”

  * * *

  Reed didn’t say much during the drive back to Abigail’s apartment, but his brain provided plenty of opinions regarding the accident.

  Getting a large truck into position to smack into the passing police vehicle would have been iffy at best, yet the notion that the seeming attack had been a real accident was hard to swallow. Taking the incident at face value was foolish. It might give him ulcers to keep assuming the worst, but that was the only way to stay on guard against a surprise attack. This afternoon was proof of that.

  He’d been having a nice time playing escort for Abigail Jones. Too nice. And he had overlooked impending danger. Whether their attackers had meant bodily harm or not, it was unsettling to be the bull’s-eye of anyone’s target. He sure didn’t want to have a working police K-9 named after him posthumously like his partner, who represented fallen officer Jessie Ramirez.

  Deep in thought, Reed was jarred when Abigail reached across and touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For dragging you over to Brighton Beach and getting your car wrecked.”

  Reed was shaking his head as he glanced at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t force me to go anywhere. That was my idea. And you weren’t driving, I was, so the responsibility for the accident rests on me. Period.”

  “You said it wasn’t an accident.”

  “It will be looked into. Nobody is sure the truck was after us.”

  “But they drove away.”

  “Maybe they had criminal records. Or maybe their cargo wasn’t legit, and they didn’t want it checked. There are plenty of reasons why people dodge the law.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes. “That’s true, I suppose.”

  “Of course it is. This job, this life, is not for everyone. It can alienate you from friends and family, for one thing.” Pondering his own past, he began to smile. “When my dad was trying to talk me out of going to the police academy, he used to say I’d be making myself the skunk at the Sunday school picnic.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “But it can be valid,” Reed said pensively. “Dad was being realistic. Civilian attitudes toward cops aren’t always complimentary.” A red light stopped them, giving him time to study her expression in more depth. She looked slightly distressed, but unless he missed his guess, there was a lot more emotion boiling beneath her surface of pseudo-calm.

  When she said, “You don’t have to be a cop to get ostracized—it can happen to anybody whose ideas conflict with the latest public whims,” her expression gave him confirmation.

  “What somebody else decides is their right even if it’s against the law,” he added.

  Abigail was slowly nodding. She’d averted her face, but he could see her reflection in the side window’s glass. It looked as if her cheeks were wet with tears.

  “That’s the hardest part,” she said quietly. “Sticking to your principles when you know other people are doing wrong. It’s especially hard for kids like the ones I help.”

  “You must be good at your job for a tough teen like Kiera to want to confide in you,” Reed told her. “I can tell you have empathy. That’s a special gift.”

  Her head snapped around and she stared at him. “A gift?” She huffed. “It’s more like the scar from a horrible wound, one I will never forget.”

  EIGHT

  There was no parking available in front of her apartment building. Abigail said, “Stop and let me out here.”

  “You want me to walk you in, don’t you?”

  Yes, she did. And no, she was not going to admit it. Not after letting down her guard and revealing too much personal information. After unsnapping the seat belt, she used her shoulder to nudge open the door, then slid out. The polite thing to do would be to invite Reed in, but at that moment she was so dis
gusted with herself she simply wanted to be alone. No people. No dogs. If she let their camaraderie resume he was bound to start asking personal questions. Questions she did not want to answer.

  “I can manage fine by myself.” The keys to the foyer door and her apartment were on a ring tucked into the pocket of her jeans opposite her cell phone. Fishing out the keys, she left the street and hurried up the stone steps.

  A sidelong peek showed that Reed was getting out of the car. “Hey! Wait for me.”

  Abigail’s fingers were trembling as she tried to hold the first key steady. Noise in the street was making her head swim. What was wrong with that key? It had always fit easily into the lock before.

  A car backfired. She jumped as if it were a gunshot. Key, key. Come on. Grabbing her right hand with her left, she managed to control the action enough to unlock the street door and step through. The automatic locking mechanism clicked into place behind her.

  Fisting the key ring, she started up the stairs. By the time she reached the first landing she was running. Panting. Gasping. Hoping and praying to reach her apartment before her burst of nervous energy gave out. The sense that someone was pursuing her was strong and growing. That was ridiculous in the secure building, of course, but it didn’t keep her imagination from insisting otherwise.

  “Why didn’t I let Reed come up with me?” she kept asking herself. “Why?” Was it false pride? Fear that he would look down on her if he knew the whole truth? Or had she somehow reverted to the frightened, lost teen she’d been when she’d fled her home and sought solace on the streets with others of her kind, throwaway kids nobody cared about or missed enough to look for?

  Reaching the third floor, Abigail hurried to 312, managed to use the key and darted inside, slamming the door behind her and turning the dead bolt for extra security. Home. Sanctuary. Peace and quiet.

  She leaned against the inside of the door, catching her breath and struggling against the panic, before she actually looked at her living room. There was a beige sofa and coordinating frieze on an occasional chair. Silk flowers waited in a milk glass vase atop a small dining table at the end of the kitchen, and the portion of the counter that was visible was tidy.