“You got to be kidding me?” Erin took off running toward the sound of shattering glass.
I followed and we were both shocked to find Walker staring down into a window well. I hit the brakes and noticed the glass was broken just as I suspected. I asked, “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“Then how did that happen?”
“I was just walking by when suddenly the glass shattered.”
Erin dropped on all fours and peered through the dark hole. “I don’t see anything,” she said.
None of this made any sense and the guilty look on Walker’s face had me once again doubting his ability to be a contributing team member.
Erin pushed herself up and stood. “Boyd has to be inside.”
I was staring through the broken glass with my head spinning. I couldn’t believe what I heard next.
Chapter Thirty
Patrol Officer Lester Smith handed over a pink slip to the driver of the vehicle he’d stopped.
The driver pinched the citation between his fingers and slumped further into his seat as he barely looked at the ticket. With a frown tugging his lips toward the floor, the driver thought something seemed…off. After taking a closer look at the pink piece of paper, he snapped his neck toward the officer.
Officer Smith kept his smile in check at the perplexed look on the driver’s face.
“I really hate to be the one to tell you this,” the driver said, “but you must have given me the wrong slip.” He pushed the paper through the window—the corners flapping as cars passed behind.
“It’s the correct slip.” Officer Smith grinned. “I’m letting you off with a warning.”
The driver’s eyes lit up. He couldn’t believe his luck.
“Slow down and drive safe. You’re approaching a school zone.”
“Thank you, Officer. Yes, of course. I’ll drive safe and not speed.”
Smith turned to his vehicle, smiling as he walked away.
“Why did you fool him like that?” Officer Avery Morgan joined her training officer’s side.
Together, they walked back to their police cruiser whose emergency lights were still flashing. Through the sounds of the occasional traffic zipping past, Smith’s smile hit his eyes when he said, “An old trick I learned from one of the best.”
Now Avery was as curious as ever to hear the rest of the story. “And what trick would that be?” she asked.
“The goal is the same no matter the call of duty,” Smith said as they shut their doors, muffling the sounds of traffic. “As police officers, we need to have the public voluntarily comply with the law.”
Avery was buckling her seatbelt when she said, “So you scared him into compliance?”
“You’re on the right track.” Smith nodded. “I used simple psychology to get him to think twice about speeding.”
Avery sat back and thought the tactic was brilliant. “You make him believe he’s getting a ticket, then you quickly swing the pendulum the other way with your surprise.”
“Exactly.” Smith smiled at his apprentice. “It only works if I have their full attention, and I gain it by manipulating their emotion.”
Avery was impressed. “Who was the genius who taught you this trick?”
“My training officer, of course.” Smith grinned.
“And does this genius have a name?”
Smith’s eyes glimmered as he started the car and merged into traffic. “Marshall King.”
Avery’s lips parted—she didn’t know that Marshall King had been the one to train Smith on field tactics. But now her position was starting to make more sense.
“It’s no coincidence that you were assigned to me,” Smith said with one hand on the wheel.
“No, it certainly wasn’t.”
Avery stared out into the baseball fields they passed. Once, not too long ago, she’d played softball on those same fields as a kid. Alex had coached her, and his father Marshall had coached him. Today, school children from her neighborhood played on the swings nearby.
Smith glanced in Avery’s direction. “King wanted to make sure you were in good company.”
She knew she was. Avery liked Smith, was learning a lot from him. He was confident, calm, patient, and courageous. Everything that made conducting police work easier.
“Well, I’ll make sure to thank him later,” Avery said. “I’ll be joining him for a family dinner once our shift is over.”
Suddenly, a report about a suspected robbery in progress in a nearby neighborhood crackled to life on the police band. Avery stared at the radio, making note of the address.
“That’s just a few blocks away,” she said to Smith.
“Respond to the call,” he told her.
Avery picked up the receiver and responded to the call. Her heart knocked in her chest, both nerves and excitement flashing before her. Smith flipped on the lights and punched the gas as Avery prepared herself for the most intense encounter of her career thus far. She just hoped that all her training would prepare her for what came next.
Chapter Thirty-One
Officer Smith killed the sirens just before they turned onto the dead-end street. Racing to the end of the cul-de-sac, Avery had her eyes peeled for anything fitting the description of their suspects.
They were first on scene, the intensity level high.
“South corner of the building.” Smith gave the location of two suspects spotted.
Relaying the message to dispatch, Avery said, “White. Female. Mid-thirties. Early forties. Appear to be unarmed.”
As soon as the car stopped, they flung their doors open and drew their guns from their holsters.
“Police. Don’t move,” Smith shouted to the two women who immediately tossed up their hands. “Step away from the house and approach my vehicle slowly with your hands behind your head.” They did as they were told. “Stop. Turn around and slowly get on the ground.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Avery caught movement of a third suspect. “Stop! Police!”
She took off running, chasing down the suspect. As soon as she rounded the side of the house, she came face-to-face with a man much bigger than she was. His hands were relaxed down at his side and his legs planted in a wide, confident stance.
“Hands on your head,” she shouted.
“Do you know who I am?” the man protested.
“This is your last warning,” Avery stated. “Get on the ground and keep your hands where I can see them.”
His right hand lifted and Avery’s heartrate spiked.
“Hands!” She feathered the trigger, praying to God that she wouldn’t have to use it.
“Easy,” the man said. “Don’t shoot. My names is Walter Walker and I’m armed.”
“You’re what?” one of the women behind Avery shouted.
Nerves sent her entire body into an intense sweat. “Where is your weapon?”
The man curled his wrist and pointed to his left armpit.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.” The man angled to the side and Avery was completely on edge. “Don’t move!”
Walker raised his hands and slowly dipped to both knees as he stared Avery in the eye from over his shoulder. “I’m not the enemy here,” Walker argued. “I have done nothing wrong.”
As soon as his first knee planted into the ground, Avery rushed the suspect and placed the heel of her boot between both shoulders, shoving his face into the grass. She quickly disarmed the suspect before restraining his hands behind his back.
“You better have a good reason for this,” Walker grumbled into the grass.
Her heart was beating so fast she didn’t know what to say.
“In fact, why don’t you just tell me your name and badge number so I can speed up the process when I do call my lawyer.”
“Officer Avery Morgan—”
“Well, Officer Morgan, you just messed with the wrong person.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I’
m out of here,” Patty O’Neil said quietly as she leaned inside Allison’s office. “You need anything from me before I leave?”
Allison glanced at the time. She didn’t know where the day went, but it was nearly six o’clock. “No. I should be leaving soon, too.” She turned her tired eyes to her colleague and smiled. “Have a good night.”
Without thinking, Allison turned back to her computer monitor and closed out the last of her client’s ad accounts, making sure they were set for the night. All day she hustled to cross off her list of tasks between putting out the fires that arose with a handful of her clients. Thinking about the traffic and conversion conference, she noticed Patty was still standing at the door.
Allison swiveled around in her chair and asked, “What is it?”
Patty stepped inside the office and lowered her voice. “It’s your cousin. He’s been sitting in there doing nothing most of the day.”
Allison knew Patty didn’t mean anything other than to let Allison know she’d forgotten about him. But, still, Allison didn’t like the image it sent for company morale. “Shit,” Allison muttered as she stood.
“I’d love to help with the transition.” Patty caught Allison’s eye. “All you need to do is ask.”
Allison stopped and smiled. “I know, honey. I’m just not sure I know what to do with him yet.”
“I’ll give it some thought tonight. I’m sure we can come up with a list of things he can do.” Patty wished Allison goodnight again and headed out the door.
As soon as Patty was gone, Allison walked down the hall to where she’d last left Marty. This morning. She found him still tucked behind his computer, live streaming the Colorado Rockies game. He glanced in her direction and she pulled up a chair to watch the game with him. When the inning ended, Allison said, “I’m sorry for leaving you here with nothing to do.”
“Best job I’ve ever had,” Marty teased.
“Well don’t get used to it.” Allison tipped forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks.”
Marty looked uneasy when he said, “Truth is, this isn’t my thing. I’m not a computer guy.”
Allison flicked her eyes to the screen. “You’ve managed to stream the game.”
“Anyone can do that.”
“I know it’s not easy, and I’m still trying to figure out how best I can use you.”
“I can find another job.”
Allison had her doubts, and certainly didn’t want him to be turned down again and again because of his history. Looking him in the eye, she asked, “Are you hungry?”
Marty’s eyes sparkled at the thought of food. He pressed his hands to his stomach and swiveled back and forth in his chair. “Starving.”
“C’mon.” Allison used his shoulder as a crutch as she stood. “Let’s get some dinner.”
As they locked up the office and headed out the door, Allison hoped food could get Marty talking about what kind of expectations he had for himself. She didn’t want him to think she had all the answers when it came to living his life. She needed to hear it from him—make sure he had a voice.
“What are you in the mood for?” she asked, when a woman’s voice caught her by surprise.
“Allison Doyle?”
Allison spun her head forward and gave the woman a quick once-over. “Yes. That’s me.”
“My name’s Gemma Love.” She took a hesitant step when seeing Marty. Turning her gaze back to Allison, she continued, “I would have called, but I was in the neighborhood and, well, thought it would be better to speak to you in person. Do you have a moment?”
Allison glanced to Marty, then flicked her eyes back to Gemma. “What’s this about?”
Gemma kept stealing glances at Marty, raking over what Allison knew to be prison tattoos. Marty stood there looking like Allison’s personal security detail and was apparently an intimidating sight to be seen.
Gemma said, “A private matter.”
“Look,” Marty said, “we can do dinner another time.”
Allison volleyed her eyes back and forth between them, wanting to go with Marty but also curious to what this woman wanted. “Perhaps we can schedule a time to meet tomorrow,” she said to Gemma. “We were just on our way to dinner.”
“I’m sorry, but this can’t wait.” Gemma tightened her grip on her purse strap. “It’s imperative I talk with you tonight.”
Marty slid his thumb through the strap of his duffel bag and said, “Go on.”
Allison looked up at her cousin. “What are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry about me. There’s always basketball at the park.” Marty was backpedaling up the sidewalk when he said, “I’ll see you back at the house.”
“At least let me take your duffel.”
“Go.” Marty smiled and turned on a heel.
Allison glanced to Gemma—asked for one second with her eyes—and hurried to catch up with him before Marty got too far. “Here, take this.” She handed Marty the twenty-dollar bill given by the stranger outside the coffee shop earlier. “Use it to buy yourself a burger or something.”
“One day,” Marty took the twenty, “I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She pushed herself up on her toes and hugged her cousin. “I’m just glad to have you home.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
It had been an unbelievably challenging afternoon and I was still thinking about Walker. I had to convince Erin to forget about him. King opening his door snapped me to the present and what mattered right now.
Scents of pasta drifted over his shoulders as I smiled into his soft gaze. Stepping forward, King clamped his hands into my soft hips and pressed his lips against the center of my forehead.
“It’s so good to see you,” he murmured, forgetting everything that happened this morning.
After a brief thought about Angelina, I leaned forward and slid my hand around his tight waistline. Pushing my opposite hand up the center of his chest, I stood on tip toes and pulled his mouth down over mine.
We kissed and it felt like home to be held inside his protective arms.
I still couldn’t believe what transpired at Boyd’s residence only a few hours ago. I was certain Walker was going to have his lawyers sue the department by how aggressive Avery had stuck her boot into the center of his back. But he deserved it, even if he had the paperwork to legally carry a concealed firearm.
“It’s good to see you, too,” I whispered against King’s lips.
Not only could Walker have gotten himself killed, but he put us all in danger because he was packing heat. I was still mad at him but refused to let it ruin my night. The smells of dinner were tempting my empty belly to step inside the house. If King kept holding me like he was now, I’d rather starve than be let go.
“You promised I wouldn’t be a third wheel, Alex.” Carol King called out to us from the living room couch.
Alex reached behind his back and shut the door.
“Hey.” I took my bottom lip between my teeth and slapped my hand over his heart. “That’s no way to treat your mother.”
King’s eyes hooded. “Just one more kiss.”
King’s kiss was better than his last and it had my toes curling deep into my flats when we both pulled back and laughed. I nuzzled my nose in the crook of his neck and as soon as we stepped inside, I asked if he’d heard from Avery.
King moved to the kitchen, glancing at the clock on his way. “Still a little early, but I told her to stop by whenever she was finished with her shift.”
He made no indication he knew what happened and I debated whether or not I should tell him. I didn’t want tonight to be awkward, but all I kept hearing were the vile threats Walker spat into Avery’s ear.
“How was your day?” King asked.
I hemmed and hawed my way toward the inevitable, deciding how best to describe my day. It ranked up there with one of my worst, never truly recovering from walking in on him and Angelina.
&nbs
p; I said, “I don’t want to discuss work.”
King lifted a bottle of red wine and I nodded.
I sat on the stool, mulling over how Avery was beyond apologetic—nearly embarrassed—when she realized her partner was frisking me. But I understood. She was just doing her job—and so were we—but I still needed to know who called the police on us. If Boyd was hiding out inside, watching it all go down. We never did find out, but maybe King knew.
King slid my half-full glass across the counter and I joined Carol in the living room who was busy polishing off her own drink.
“How is your new home?” I asked.
Carol gave me a sideways glance. “It’s worse than prison. Same smells. Same crazy people yelling out in the middle of the night. I can’t stand the place.”
Alex was chopping vegetables for a salad when he reminded his mother, “You’ve never been inside a prison.”
Carol turned her head just enough so Alex could hear what she had to say. “No. But I’ve heard stories. Your father was a very descriptive storyteller and I believed what he said.”
We chatted about my job, and I asked if she was still painting. We talked about Mason and what I was going to do when the Times went out of business. Then a look of concern fell over her face when she asked King, “Alex, it’s not like Avery to be late; shouldn’t you call?”
I glanced at the time. Carol was right. Moving to the kitchen, I finally thought I had the courage to tell King what happened today.
“She’s probably just getting worked hard by that old dog, Smith,” Alex said to his mother, wiggling his eyebrows as he watched me come back into the kitchen. When I stood next to him, he lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “Smith is probably reviewing what happened at Boyd’s house earlier today.”
The look I gave him was an admission of guilt.
“You really shouldn’t have been there,” he said. So he did know.
BURN IN BELL Page 9
