Читать книгу Perfect Partners? - C.J. Carmichael - Страница 9

LINDSAY WAITED FOR NATHAN to leave her office. Only once the door was firmly closed between them did she touch the manila envelope he’d left on her desk. Using a letter opener, she slit the top open and peered inside.

She’d almost expected to find the cold, hard cash he’d promised her.

Instead out slid a package of case notes. She flipped through the pages. Did he really expect to sway her with this?

The client’s name was Celia Burchard. Burchard. That sounded familiar. Lindsay leaned back in her chair, propped her feet on an overturned wastepaper basket and settled in to read.

Apparently Celia Burchard was looking to retain an investigator to assist in the defense of her mother who had been charged with the attempted murder of her husband.

Lindsay realized then where she’d heard the name before. The story had been all over the news media for most of August.

The case had caught Lindsay’s attention because of the twist on the abused-wife scenario. For once it wasn’t the husband who had attacked his wife, but the other way around.

The news quotient had been upped by the Burchards’ social status. Maurice Burchard was well-known as a Manhattan property developer and his wife was active in the arts community. The couple had a reputation for hosting amazing parties. To be invited to an event at the Burchards’ town house in the city, or their hunting lodge in the Catskills was the pinnacle of social success.

In some circles, anyway.

How had Nathan landed a client like this?

She turned a page, dismayed to see that her hand was shaking. Just a little, but the slight tremor was enough to worry her.

Aftershocks from Nathan Fisher’s visit?

She’d never imagined that she would see him again—she’d been pretty blunt when they’d said their goodbyes two years ago. Not that she’d meant what she’d said, but she’d thought a clean break would be the best—they usually were.

And now he wanted to be her partner again. What was up with that?

She knew that during their year together she’d driven him as crazy as he had driven her. He thought she was impulsive, relied on her intuition too much, didn’t follow the rules.

Yet, they had had their moments of brilliance, despite the clashing, or maybe because of the clashing. If she could put up with their different investigating styles, the possibilities were intriguing.

Nathan was a stickler for rules and procedures, but he had other, more impressive qualities. His work ethic, for one. His integrity for another. He was also smart, a wizard at gathering background research and meticulous about gathering facts and operating according to a defined plan.

Those qualities had made him a much better police officer than she had been. Which begged the biggest question of all.

Why had he quit the force?

He’d avoided the question when she’d asked. But it wouldn’t be difficult to find out the answer.

Lindsay called a friend who’d gone through basic training with her. Kate Cooper was still at the Twentieth Precinct, connected enough to give her the answers she wanted.

Kate answered the phone with a clipped “Cooper here,” then whistled when she found out who was on the line. “Fox—nice work on the Anderson case. I meant to call when I saw your name in the paper. Pretty impressive bringing down a piece of scum like that.”

“It felt good,” Lindsay admitted. “You want to give this kind of work a try? Quit the force and I’ll make room for you.”

Kate just laughed. “Got to admit I’m tempted. But do you have a health plan? Guaranteed pension?”

“What do you care about those things? You’re young and healthy.”

“Thank God, yes. But when it comes time to start a family…”

It was hard to think of coolheaded, tough Kate as a mother. “Have you met someone?”

“Not really met. More like reconnected. Remember Conner Lowery?”

“Sure.” Lowery was a detective at the NYPD and their paths had crossed a few times during her year at the precinct. He had Irish good looks and an easygoing temperament. Lindsay remembered him as competent and hardworking, though very charming.

“We’ve just moved in together.”

“Well…that’s great. I’m happy for you.” She tried to make it sound as if she really meant it, but commitment was something she ran from in her own life, so it took a leap of imagination to consider this good news.

“Thanks. We should get together for lunch or coffee. But right now I’m super busy—”

Lindsay could tell she was about to hang up. “One second. I have something else. A question. It’s about Nathan Fisher. Did he really quit?”

“You’re kidding, right? Everyone in the precinct—hell, in the city—knows about Nathan. It was so unfair what happened to him.”

“What?” Lindsay sat upright, her muscles tensing. “Tell me everything.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t heard about this. It’s been in all the papers.”

“I’ve been busy. I must have missed it.”

“Well, then. This story goes back several months. Nathan was on the street, busting up a drug deal and making an arrest when the perp pulled out a gun. Shots were exchanged, both guys were injured.”

This was sounding familiar. She had heard something about the story, but had never seen a name or a photograph. “That was Nathan?”

“Yeah. The punk shot him two times in the leg. Fortunately the wounds were minor. He could have been back at work within a few weeks. But the kid’s injuries were more serious and he happened to be the son of a high-powered attorney who made a huge stink, insisting his kid was innocent, that Nathan fired first, etc., etc….”

Lindsay felt the familiar burn of injustice. “Innocent, huh? So why was he packing a gun? Why did he resist arrest?”

“Exactly. Ask me, the punk is lucky not to be dead. And you know Nathan…he followed procedure to the nth degree. Still, Internal Affairs got all sticky during their investigation. At one point they even laid charges against him. Nathan was sidelined for several months and not one of the big brass said a word in his defense.”

“No balls,” Lindsay said with contempt. “God, one of their men takes bullets and still has to defend firing in return? It’s crazy.”

“Charges were dropped eventually, but Nathan was put through the wringer. Just last week his name was finally cleared. The next day, he handed in his resignation.”

“Good for him.” Lindsay felt like cheering.

“Yeah, who could blame him, right?”

“Hell. I can’t believe I didn’t know that was him.”

She was just too damn busy. And right now she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather share office space with than the woman she was talking to. “Are you sure you aren’t ready for a change in careers?”

Kate laughed. “Call me back when you can offer a full benefit package.”

“Well, thanks for the info, anyway. And good luck with Conner.” Lindsay replaced the phone, then stared at the file on her desk, not really seeing it, but instead remembering Nathan’s expression when he’d told her he’d left the force. He’d been calm, impassive, but now she knew that had all been an act. It had to have been.

Unlike her, Nathan had loved being a member of the NYPD. He’d been a natural at the job, clearly a superstar destined to go far. Until he’d had the bad luck to try and arrest a spoiled rich kid with an influential father.

She couldn’t imagine how bitter he must feel at having his career sidelined so unjustly. And it was so like him not to have said a word about this during their meeting. Or maybe he’d assumed she would have heard.

Lindsay made a note to start reading the newspaper more regularly.

MANY HOURS LATER, LINDSAY swirled the ice in her paralyzer and tried to believe it was a coincidence that Nathan Fisher had just walked into her local bar.

He was wearing dark jeans and a cream-colored pullover sweater, thick enough to keep a fisherman warm on a cold day at sea. As she watched, he brushed a hand through his hair, creating a stylish, messy look. Had he done that on purpose? He was scanning the crowd, searching for someone—she didn’t need to guess who.

She shrunk into the corner of her booth seat at the back of the Stool Pigeon. This was going to be tough. She had better prepare herself.

Since Kate had explained the story behind Nathan’s departure from the NYPD, she’d been battling the urge to call him and offer him the job.

Despite his “by-the-book” mentality, Nathan was an excellent investigator and quick on his feet, too. She’d be lucky to have him on her team, the only hitch being that she wasn’t willing to take him—or anyone—on as partner.

Lindsay took a sip of her drink, then lifted her head for a second look. The pub was about half-full tonight. Several men were seated at the bar. The booth across from hers was empty, but an elderly couple sat in the booth ahead of that one. Four tables were lined up along the front window. A group of twentysomethings had pulled two of the tables together. They were mostly guys, with a couple of dolled-up girls along as sidekicks.

Though she didn’t know all their names, Lindsay recognized most of the faces. The local joint was tired, and small, but the clientele was loyal.

Or perhaps, like her, they simply lived nearby. It was nice not to worry about hailing a cab when you were finished drinking for the night.

“Cute place. I like the ambiance.”

Lindsay sighed with resignation as Nathan slid into the bench seat opposite from her. From their days of working together, she knew Nathan was into health food, a borderline vegetarian. This was the last sort of establishment he would choose to visit.

Of course he wasn’t here for the food.

The guy had definitely done his research if he knew enough to find her here. That fact alone was enough to make her want to hire him.

“What did you have for dinner?” His gaze dropped to the dish she’d pushed aside a few minutes ago. “It must have been delicious. That plate is almost clean enough to put back on the shelf.”

“Chicken potpie. You wouldn’t like it. It’s about a thousand calories, most of them saturated fat.”

Nathan flagged the server. “I’ll have what she had. Plus a mineral water if you have any.”

Wendy Pigeon, who co-owned the place with her husband, Mark, looked at him in disbelief, then back at Lindsay. “You have a date?”

“Definitely not. Nathan used to work with me when I was a cop. Don’t bother remembering his name. He won’t be back.”

Wendy removed Lindsay’s empty dish and replaced it with a slice of coconut cream pie. “Want another paralyzer?”

Lindsay took the last slurp from her glass, then nodded.

Once Wendy had returned to the kitchen, Nathan said, “You still drink those things?”

“Why not? They’re a great source of calcium.”

“If you want calcium, you should try soy milk. Those things are loaded with alcohol, sugar, fat and caffeine.”

She smirked. “That’s why I love them.”

He shook his head. “The way you eat amazes me, Fox.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged and proceeded to enjoy her first taste of pie. At least she tried.

Nathan was looking at her steadily, his arms folded on the table, his body leaning forward. Close up like this, she couldn’t help but be aware of his broad shoulders and solid muscles.

“We worked together for a year and I still don’t know anything about your personal life.” The power in his gaze lessened, was replaced with curiosity. “You never talked about family or friends. Never mentioned a boyfriend—ex, or otherwise.”

“I’m not much for chitchat. Especially at work.” She took another bite of the pie, trying again to appreciate the rich flavor and creamy texture.

“No. Clearly you have your friends for that.”

She grimaced at his reference to the fact that she’d been eating—worse yet, drinking—alone. “Hey, these people are my friends. Wendy and Mark.” She waved her pastry-and custard-covered fork in the direction of the bar. “Those losers watching the baseball game.”

“Right. Bosom buddies, I can tell.” He leaned into his seat and shook his head at her. “So how were the rest of the job interviews? Did you hire anyone?”

She considered lying. But he’d find out soon enough. “No,” she admitted. “But we’re running the ad again this week. I’m sure someone suitable will turn up.”

At least she could hope. She’d tried so hard to find potential in the two other applicants she’d met this afternoon. But one had been a disorganized mess, the other curt to the point of rudeness. Even good-hearted Nadine had agreed that neither one of them could possibly work.

“How about a one-month trial period?” Nathan suggested. “If either one of us isn’t happy, we’ll call it a learning experience and move on.”

It was a tempting offer. “You still talking about a partnership?”

“Of course.”

She shook her head, reluctantly. “I’ve gotten used to working on my own.” She took the last bite of pie, then dug into her leather bag for the envelope he’d given her earlier. “You might as well take this back.”

“The case didn’t interest you?”

“Hell, yes, it interested me. But it’s yours. I have no idea how you landed such a plum assignment, but with contacts like yours, why do you need me? You can set up your own business simply enough.”

“I’m not interested in working alone. You’re already established and I think our skills are complementary. Why not team up and make the most of them?”

He was making a strong case, but so far neither one of them had mentioned the other reason partnering up again might not be such a great idea. She studied the depths of his warm, brown eyes, and wondered if he’d forgotten about that night.

If he had, it was probably for the best.

“Why didn’t you tell me the real reason you left the force?”

His eyes became guarded, and his mouth tightened. “I figured you’d have read the papers.”

“I don’t make it past the front page very often. But I happened to be talking to Kate Cooper today and she filled me in. Those hypocrites. I can’t believe they hung you out to dry.”

“Politics. Lieutenant Rock said not to take it personally.” His laugh was short, and hard.

“And what did you say to that?”

“What do you think? I don’t often lose my cool—”

“I’ll say.”

He raised his eyebrows at the interruption. “But that day I did.” He allowed a small smile. “Felt damn good, too.”

“Maybe you’re human after all, Fisher.”

Wendy came out of the kitchen with a potpie for Nathan. She always wore her dark hair tied back, but one strand usually defied orders and needed to be tucked behind her ear at periodic intervals. Wendy did this now as she hesitated at their table.

“I recognize you,” Wendy said. “Your picture was in the paper. You’re the cop who shot that rich lawyer’s kid.”

Resignation, pain, anger…Lindsay wasn’t sure which emotion flashed over Nathan’s face, in the brief instant before he was able to compose himself.

“That’s me.”

“The press hung you out to dry, but we weren’t fooled.” She glanced at Mark, who was drying glasses behind the bar, but keeping an eye on them at the same time. “That kid deserved every ounce of trouble you gave him, and then some. So how did things end up for you? You get fired?”

“No, actually, my name was cleared last week. Then I quit.”

“Yeah? I didn’t see anything about that in the paper.”

“The story ran this Wednesday. A short article near the end of the section. I’m not surprised you missed it.”

Lindsay was appalled. “So they tar and feather you in the headlines, then exonerate you in the back pages? That stinks.”

Nathan heaved his big shoulders. “That’s life in the fast lane.”

“Hang on,” Wendy said. “I’m bringing you another mineral water. On the house.”

Lindsay smiled as she watched Wendy hurry back to the bar. “You sure won her over.”

Nathan poked his dinner with his fork, then lifted his gaze. “More important—have I won you over?”

Lindsay hesitated. Despite her reservations, he was wearing her down. “I’ll think about it,” she finally allowed.

“Think fast,” he said. “This is a time limited offer.”

AS NATHAN EASED THE DEAD BOLT into position, he heard his sister creep down the stairs.

“Quiet.” She held a finger to her lips. “Justin finally fell asleep.”

He nodded, slipped off his shoes, then made his way silently to the kitchen. Mary-Beth followed, going straight for the fridge.

“Are you hungry? I could whip up a stir-fry with the leftovers from dinner.”

“I’m starving,” he admitted. The chicken potpie at the dive Lindsay seemed to love had been inedible. He didn’t know how she kept her great figure on such a terrible diet. “But I can make my own dinner. You sit for a minute.”

“I don’t mind,” Mary-Beth tried to insist.

“Well, I do. I am the better cook, you know.” It was so not true. He was trying to goad her into retaliating. Maybe even coax a smile from her weary-looking face. But his younger sister just melted into her chair and sank her arms and head to the table.

“What comes after the terrible twos? Please tell me it’s the terrific threes.”

“I haven’t got a clue. But Justin isn’t that terrible, as a rule.”

“Not for you, he isn’t, but lately he fights me on everything. He doesn’t want the blue pajamas, he wants the red ones. He won’t drink his milk, he wants apple juice.” She sighed. “Sometimes I wish…”

She didn’t finish, but he could guess what she was longing for. She still hadn’t told him why she and her ex-husband, Logan, had broken up, but it was clear that she—and her son—missed the guy.

“So where were you out so late? Did you have a date?”

He snorted. “Right.” Since the shooting he hadn’t been in the mood for dating, or even hanging out with friends. Most of his buddies were on the force, anyway. And right now, all he wanted was distance from them.

“What they did to you wasn’t right, but you can’t be bitter, Nathan. The bullet wounds have healed…you need to let the mental wounds heal, too. Start living your life, again, having fun.”

Nathan nodded, as if he agreed. But as close as he was to his sister, he’d never expect her to understand. Their dad had been a hero. A real, genuine hero. All his life, Nathan had wanted to live up to that standard. And what had happened?

His name had been maligned in the headlines of the very paper that had once lauded his father as a hero. Columns that had praised his old man for sacrificing his life to save a stranger had accused Nathan of being a bigot and a coward, shooting without cause based on the color of a kid’s skin.

He pulled ingredients from the fridge and began chopping. “You’re a fine one to talk about fun. When’s the last time you went on a date?” His sister was a pretty woman and she’d moved out of her husband’s house six months ago. It was time she started living her life again, too.

“It’s different for me. I have Justin.”

“He’s a great kid, but you need more.”

“Eventually I will,” she agreed. “It’s still too soon for me. Logan and I were together for six years.”

So what happened? He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to probe. He sprayed olive oil into a sauté pan and waited for it to heat.

“At least I have a job that I love,” Mary-Beth continued, referring to her new teaching position at Columbia University. “Have you thought about what you want to do next?”

“I’m going to be a professional investigator. Like Magnum P.I.,” he joked, citing the old TV series that his sister had confessed to watching late at night when she’d been breast-feeding Justin.

Finally a smile cracked his sister’s face. “That sounds great, Nathan. As long as you skip the mustache.”

She rose from her chair, stretched and yawned. “Early start tomorrow. I’d better get some sleep.”

“G’ night, sis.” After she’d given him a hug, he turned back to his cooking, tossing the chopped vegetables and tofu into the hot oil.

Being treated like a criminal had definitely taken the fun out of life. Leaving the force had felt like his only option. But it had also marked the end of a lifelong dream. Since he’d been a young boy, he’d always wanted to be a cop. Now he needed another dream.

He still wanted to go after the bad guys. But from now on, he was going to pick the caliber of people he would work with.

People like Lindsay Fox.

Maybe she cut corners more than he liked, but she was bright and committed. Best of all, she wasn’t out for personal glory, didn’t take on cases just for some easy money. She cared about making the world a better place. She cared about justice.

Nathan added spices into the stir-fry and gave it a final toss before sitting down at the table. Eating straight from the pan, he thought about the glimpse into Lindsay’s life he’d had today.

When he’d seen her ad in the paper, he’d done his research. As well as checking out her clients and her business, he’d dug into her personal life. He knew that she was still single, that she ended most of her days at that greasy pub, knocking back several paralyzers before making her way to her apartment just one block from the office.

Though she was strikingly attractive, with pale blond hair, translucent skin and hauntingly beautiful blue eyes, she didn’t date much. It seemed her socializing, if you wanted to call it that, centered around the pub he’d visited tonight.

What kind of life was that for a woman who was just thirty years old? From personal experience, he knew the woman was passionate. So why wasn’t she involved with anyone?

Ghosts lay in her past, he was sure of that. If they ended up working together again—and he was pretty determined that they would—maybe he would finally find out.

A week later

BALANCING HER LEATHER CASE in one hand, and cell phone in the other, Lindsay dodged pedestrians, strollers and dogs, as she made her way down Columbus Street. She’d spent the morning on routine surveillance for an insurance claim, and was now heading back to the office, while attempting to return a call to her sister. Finally Meg’s assistant patched her through.

“Lindsay?”

“Hey, Meg. Busy day. You called?”

“Yeah, I have another job for you. It’s an out-of-town assignment, should take about a week. You interested in an all-expense-paid trip to Florida?”

Lindsay glanced up at the pewter-colored sky. “Florida sounds like heaven, but I’m too swamped to get away.”

“I thought you were hiring an extra investigator?”

“I’m trying. My most hopeful candidate was a university grad with work experience as a waiter. Smart kid, but I just don’t have the time to train someone from scratch.”

She purposefully didn’t mention Nathan. She hadn’t heard from him since that night at the pub and she was having second thoughts, and third thoughts, against working with him again.

Lindsay came to a street corner and checked for traffic before hurrying across.

“Look, I’m almost at the office,” she continued. “Can I call you back later when I have time to talk?”

“I’m in court the rest of the week. How about we catch up on the weekend?”

“Sounds good.” Lindsay snapped her phone shut, then rounded the corner to Seventy-ninth Street. Two minutes later she was back at the office. Nadine was typing madly, but paused to give her an update.

“The billings are on your desk to be signed, your phone messages are here—” she passed over a stack of paper “—and Nathan has moved into the office across from yours.”

With phone messages in hand, Lindsay was already striding toward her office, when the last part of Nadine’s statement sank in.

“Nathan has moved in?”

Nadine nodded. “Is that okay? He said it was okay.”

Lindsay pivoted, then charged into what should have been an empty office. Sure enough Nathan had made himself at home behind the sleek new desk. He was on the phone, but he smiled and waved at her to come in.

“What the hell is going on here?”

He motioned for her to be quiet. “I’m almost finished.”

“By all means, take your time,” she muttered as she stubbed her toe on a cardboard box sitting on the floor by the empty chair meant for clients. A tan-colored leather briefcase was on the floor beside it.

“Okay. That’s interesting. I’ll follow up right away,” Nathan promised the person on the other end of the line. Then he hung up.

He was wearing a white shirt today, emphasizing the golden tone of his skin, the rich mocha of his eyes. When he stood to greet her, the solid bulk of his thighs was clearly visible beneath the dark denim of his jeans.

“Hey, partner,” he said. “I wondered when you were going to come and welcome me.”

“Welcome you? Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m here for that one-month probation thing we talked about at the bar last week. If things go well—and I’m sure they will—when the month is over you’ll let me buy into the business as a full-fledged partner.”

“I remember talking about a one-month probation. But you know darned well we came to no agreement.”

He shrugged. “Look, if it doesn’t work we go our separate ways. Nothing lost on either side.” He gave her a moment to digest that, then added, “You’d better grab some paper and a pen. We have a meeting with Celia Burchard in about five minutes.”