Читать книгу Act Of Valor - Dana Mentink - Страница 16

Zach felt pressure on his rib cage, a flash of hot pain on his cheek, followed by the clammy squelch of a probing dog nose. Cold from the cement floor seeped through his uniform shirt. The sensations coalesced all at once into a frantic need to move. He opened his eyes and jerked to a sitting position, sending Eddie into another round of high-pitched yelping. He saw himself mirrored in Violet’s brown irises as she stared down at him. She pressed a hand to his sternum.

“Stay still. I’ll call for an ambulance.”

He ignored her, struggling to his feet while scanning the parking lot for Joe Brown. He was long gone. Zach bit back a growl of frustration, jerked his radio free and called in. The on-duty police and TSA were alerted to look for the vehicle. It was the best they could do. He declined medical help, of course. Mercifully, Violet appeared unharmed. One thing had gone right, anyway.

“How did he know you were leaving with me?” he mused. “Seems unlikely he would stick around to tail us.” It wasn’t coincidence, either. LaGuardia had multiple police parking areas, both outdoors as well as the garage, so it hadn’t been a fortunate guess on the part of Brown. They might have been followed from the terminal, but he probably would have noticed that and no one had tracked them into the elevator.

Violet frowned and he knew what she was thinking.

“Your boss knows you left with me?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“So it would be easy for him to pass that on to Brown...”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Violet said, but she didn’t sound convinced. He wasn’t, either.

Carter’s text buzzed in his phone.

Anyone hurt?

Violet’s okay.

You?

Just my pride.

He put the phone away before Carter got a chance to snap off a snarky reply.

Violet was pulling at his wrist, turning him to face her. “No matter how they found out, they’re gone and you’re bleeding. Stay still.”

“No, I’m not hurt.”

“Yes,” she said in the overly controlled voice she used when he was driving her to distraction. “You are.” She pointed to the side of his head.

He felt then a trickle of warmth and swiped at it, his fist coming away with a smear of red. “I’m not hurt,” he repeated, hoping he didn’t sound like a cranky child.

She grabbed a tiny packet of tissues from her purse and pressed one to his temple, pulling it away to show him the blood. “Not-hurt people don’t bleed on other people’s clothes.”

He noticed another spot on the front of her uniform.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I must have hit the door handle on the way down. I’ll wash it.”

“No, you’ll have it dry-cleaned, you big oaf,” she said, but her smile was soft as she dabbed at his cut. “Doesn’t look deep. Cops will send a unit to check on you, or an ambulance, right?”

“Told ’em not to. Need every cop out looking for Brown.”

She heaved out a sigh. “And you say I’m stubborn.”

“You are. Way more stubborn than me.”

The rumble of an engine caught her attention. “Fortunately, it looks as if someone didn’t listen to you, though.”

Carter pulled up in his squad car, Frosty pacing in the backseat. “Get in, Zach.”

Zach shook his head. “Uh-uh. I’m taking Vi back to her apartment.”

Carter used the same tone he did when his young daughter Ellie was refusing to cooperate. “No, you’re getting into this car until our people process this scene, and we’re taking Vi to Griffin’s. Everyone’s there and waiting.”

Violet took Zach’s hand, put it over the tissue and pressed both to his head. “Do as you’re told.”

He wanted to snap at her and his brother, to vent some of the tension that threatened to explode. Instead, he forced out a long, slow breath. “Fine.”

Carter jerked his head. “You’re sitting in the back with Frosty. Vi gets the front seat.”

She cocked her head and flashed that smile again, but there was something forced about the brashness, as if she was trying a little too hard to hide her fear. It made him crazy to see it.

Don’t worry, Vi. I’m gonna get these guys no matter what it takes.

Hauling himself and Eddie into the cramped backseat of Carter’s vehicle, he heard the echo of another promise, the one he’d made to Jordy’s widow, the promise that he’d catch Jordy’s killer no matter what it took. As the days spun into weeks with no progress from the cops working the case, his frustration was building to epic levels. At least the rabid press coverage had eased a bit, his brother’s “suicide” taking backseat to various other big-city stories.

Everyone who worked with Jordy already knew it wasn’t a suicide, but given the suicide note that had been planted and the lack of outward trauma to his body, that didn’t keep the press from their speculations. He realized his jaw was clamped like a vise and he made an effort to relax.

Maybe it would be good to have Violet to focus on while they continued to try and unearth a lead on his brother’s killer. The fatigue of many sleepless nights crowded the adrenaline from his muscles. Wearily, he stroked Eddie, threading his fingers through the fur, allowing himself just for a moment to wonder if Jordy’s dog, Snapper, might still be alive. There had been blood found in Jordy’s SUV, animal blood, but not a single trace of Snapper anywhere. If the German shepherd was wandering loose, lost, injured, how long could he survive?

A wave of despair washed over him. Zach used to believe there was nothing he couldn’t do, that God was watching over the Jameson family and the people they loved.

I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety. The psalm was inscribed inside the Bibles his mother had given each of them the day they were sworn in as cops. Now he couldn’t even read the words without choking on them. With Jordy’s death, there was no more peace or rest, and now with Violet facing a different threat, there would be no fairy-tale promises of safety, either.

I’ll do it without You, he silently promised, the stone where his heart used to be hardening with each syllable. I’ll keep her safe. It felt good to direct his anger at God, who’d taken the very best friend he’d ever had.

You won’t take anyone else from me.

Carter shot him a look in the rearview mirror as they turned onto 94th Street and passed the K-9 headquarters, eventually pulling up in the tiny lot behind Griffin’s Diner. Violet got out and beelined for the door.

Carter cut the motor and turned to stare at Zach. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He shifted Eddie on his lap. “Why?”

“Because you look like you’re ready to take on an army all by yourself.”

“Maybe I will.”

Carter shook his head. “That’s not smart. We’re a team. Don’t go rogue on us.”

Zach didn’t speak, but his gut filled in the answer.

If that’s what it takes to protect Vi, bring it on.

“Zach,” Carter started again, but Zach was already out and following Violet into the comfort of the diner.

* * *

Violet breathed deeply of the familiar aromas, the rich tang of coffee, the scent of the freshly waxed floors her father insisted on, the tantalizing fragrance of simmering soup with glistening homemade noodles and shredded chicken, never diced. It was the smell of home, of comfort, of safety. The place had been unchanged for decades, obstinately resisting the pressure of the encroaching neighborhood gentrification of Jackson Heights. Her father would inevitably turn red in the face when he passed the two new luxury rental buildings and the artisanal cheese shop that had replaced the old mom-and-pop stores. Griffin’s was rooted in the history of Queens, standing defiantly against the so-called progress, preserving the character of the people who had built the neighborhood brick by brick, block by block.

Sucking in a lungful of diner smells, she put the fear behind her and automatically snatched her apron from the hook by the door.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” her mother said. Barbara Griffin was still tall and straight-backed in spite of the lifetime of sweat and tears she’d put into the diner and raising Violet. Some silver threaded her brown hair, which she wore wound into the trademark braid. She’d never know how her mother survived losing Violet’s brother at age five to meningitis, but Barbara was strong, and she’d passed that strength down to her daughter.

Sometimes you build a wall around today and you don’t climb over it, her mother had told her. Violet was determined to build a wall around the frightening events of the morning and keep them behind the bricks, away from the rest of her life.

Her mother embraced her quickly, hard and tight, the contact telling her all that she couldn’t say in words. After a breath, she straightened. “Carter filled me in. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” she said, pulling the apron around herself. The apron made her feel safer than a suit of armor. “I’m completely fine. I’ll bus table seven.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she said, smiling. “You’ll have to get around your dad first.” Violet decided that nothing would stop her, but when she made it to the dining room, the place was swimming with cops. They were collected around their favorite tables in their private room, set apart by French doors and affectionately dubbed “The Dog House,” grilling Zach for the details. On the walls of the cozy room were the photos of those NYPD officers who had lost their lives in the line of duty. The K-9s were given the names of these fallen heroes to keep their memories alive. With a pang she realized that Jordy’s picture would soon be added to those photos. The dogs were settled into their private porch area, and Zach led Eddie in to join them. Zach’s brothers, Carter and Noah, were there with their dogs, and siblings Reed and Lani Branson along with Luke Hathaway, Brianne Hayes, Tony Knight and Gavin Sutherland. They were not all related by blood, but all were part of the K-9 unit Jordy Jameson had supervised, so that made them as close as kin could be.

She was about to grab the coffeepot and start pouring out for the cops when her father hastened up, quick though he sported a potbelly, and wrapped her in a hug that lifted her off the ground. “Baby,” he said. “What is this world coming to? That airport is full of crazy people. You could have been killed. I think you should come back here and work full-time. Forget the airline job.”

She squeezed him in return, furiously blinking back tears. “You always say that, Daddy.”

“And I always mean it.” He cupped her face and kissed her on the nose like he’d done since she could remember. One of her earliest memories was her and her little brother Bobby dressed up for Easter morning, her father presenting them each with a kiss on the nose and a basket full of goodies. Lou Griffin was a softie, through and through.

Before she could protest, he steered her to the back room into an empty chair at the table full of cops. “You’re my baby, and I need you to be safe. Sit down and rest.”

“I just got here.”

“Rest from your ordeal. No waiting tables for you.”

Her mother chuckled, carrying in pitchers of ice water. “See? I told you.”

Everyone broke into a vigorous inquisition about her health and safety with a liberal amount of teasing thrown in. Holding on to her tough and independent demeanor was hard when she spoke of the attack, but she kept herself in check. She was Violet Griffin, known for her sass and wit, a strong woman who wasn’t going to present anything else to her cop family, and they knew it, counted on it. When the conversation turned to shoptalk, she breathed an inward sigh.

“We got the intel back on the Joe Brown guy,” Carter said. “His real name is Xavier Beck. Small-time, petty theft, some drug arrests. He may be a courier, but he’s not the boss. Though there’s been some street chatter that he’s moving up in the ranks, trying to prove himself. We’ve heard the name Uno.”

“You think he’s the guy in charge?” Zach pressed.

Noah shrugged. “Nothing definitive, but it’s telling that when we bring up the name, all our sources close up tighter than a tick on a coonhound. There’s something behind this guy Uno.”

“Another drug ring putting down roots here in Queens?” her father asked with a shake of his head.

“Plenty of noise that there’s a drug-smuggling operation organizing,” Carter said, “but we can’t prove this Uno character is behind it. Malcolm Spade was running things until recently, but thanks to Declan, we got him put away.”

Declan Maxwell was Zach’s longtime friend and the newest K-9 officer with the elite NYPD Vapor Wake Squad. Along with the Jameson brothers, Jordan among them, Declan and his dog Storm had helped take down the drug kingpin. Thinking about it set loose a wave of sadness inside her. She had not seen Katie, Jordan’s pregnant wife, at the diner in several weeks. Zach’s grimace made her believe he’d been thinking about his lost brother also.

“What about the TSA guy?” Noah asked.

“No sign of him but we’re looking.”

Zach toyed with his coffee mug. “Bill Oscar’s got to be involved. I’m going to put him under a microscope and tear his past apart until I get to the bottom of it.”

Violet bit her lip. Her heart told her Bill was a good boss, a good father, a good friend, but there was no way to overlook the fact that he’d acted suspiciously at the airport. Zach’s flinty expression told her she had zero chance of diverting him from that course of the investigation, anyway.

“You shouldn’t go back to your apartment,” Zach said, fixing her with eyes darkened to navy. “It’s not safe. If Bill’s involved, he can feed Beck your address.”

There was universal agreement around the table.

“He wouldn’t...” she started to say, until uncertainty dried up the words.

“She can move in with us,” Barbara said. “Help take care of that little stinker of a puppy.”

The pup’s mother, Stella, was a gift from the Czech Republic to the NYPD. The yellow Lab had surprised one and all by having eight puppies shortly after her arrival, leaving the department scrambling for homes for all the pups. K-9 officer Brianne Hayes was now training mama Stella in the ways of bomb detection, but her babies were unharnessed hurricanes needing constant supervision. Latte, the precocious pup, had found a home with the Griffins. Two others had been placed with Carter and his daughter Ellie in the Jameson home. Violet figured them to be a welcome distraction in the wake of Jordy’s murder.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need another set of hands at least,” Carter said with a groan. “The two we’ve got are tearing up the place. I’m down a gym bag and a Yankees cap already. Ellie is all set to keep them forever, even though they’ve mangled her toy sewing machine.”

“So everyone agrees, then,” her father said. “It’s settled. Violet can work here and stay at our place. I need help keeping up with the pie demand, and everyone says that your pies are superior, Violet. Your mother’s got a little birthday shindig here on Tuesday afternoon, remember. She’s expecting big stuff in the pie department.”

Violet steeled herself. Her father would be content if she never left their family dwelling in Rego Park, right next door to the Jamesons’ shared family home. She was never sure if his overprotectiveness was due to losing his son, or the fact that she was a female, or just his natural bent, but whatever the reason, she’d fought for her independence and she wouldn’t let it be stripped away because of Xavier Beck. “Hold up just one minute. As much as I adore you all, no one is going to organize my life. I am perfectly fine at my apartment, and I’m not giving up my job at the airport.”

“But...” her father started.

“It’s not safe,” Zach said again. He got to his feet. Eddie eyed him from the porch room and stood, too, tail wagging in anticipation of a departure. “This guy Beck knows you saw the drugs in his bag. You can testify. You shouldn’t be alone.”

She stood. “I’m not alone. I have a roommate.”

He was unmoved. “Who is away on an overseas assignment for another three weeks, correct?”

“Yes, but I live in a building with a hundred other tenants. The guy next door is a butcher, and he knows how to handle a meat cleaver, if it comes to that.”

Her father snorted. “He works practically round the clock, plus he’s a Red Sox fan and that just speaks to his poor character right there.” He threw up his hands as if he’d just set the universe in order.

Violet stood as tall as she could manage. Good thing she was wearing heels. Even so, she had to tip her head to look Zach in the eye. “With or without a butcher next door, I am a very competent woman, thank you very much.”

“Vi...” Zach towered over her, handsome face close enough for her to reach out and touch the fatigue lines that grooved his forehead. She kept her hands clenched by her sides. “This isn’t about competence,” he said wearily.

The softness in his voice almost broke her resolve. Bossiness she could deal with, but tenderness... She swallowed. “I will not be forced out of my home. I’m safe and I’m not scared.” She tried to believe her own brash statement.

They all stared at her. Zach folded his arms across his chest. It seemed like the entire diner went dead silent.

Noah cleared his throat. “We’ll assign a detail to watch her place.”

Zach shook his head. “No. It’s not enough. Vi, I want you to stay with your parents.”

Right next door to the home he shared with his brothers? It was part of the reason she’d been so anxious to move away. It killed her an inch at a time to see him every day, watch him bringing his girlfriends to the house for family dinners, to try and pretend she was happy for him when her own heart was protesting. In the months before Jordy was killed, she thought she’d actually achieved some level of normalcy, accepting that Zach and the Jamesons had their own lives and loves that didn’t involve her. It’s the way he wants it, she’d finally convinced herself. She thrust her chin up. “Badge or not, you don’t get to tell me what to do, Zach.”

His eyes sparked, narrowed, pinned her in that way he probably did when he was staring at someone he was about to arrest. She stared right back, hoping the fire in her eyes matched his.

“Okay,” he said, after a breath.

She was thrilled at her victory until he continued.

“If you’re going to ignore all good sense and stay at your apartment, I’m sleeping on your sofa. End of story.”

Satisfaction turned to outrage. “You most certainly are not.”

“Zach,” Noah said. “This isn’t your call. You’re off shift, and you’ve had a long day. Go home and rest.”

Zach shot him a glance. “Is that an order since you’re the chief now?”

“Interim chief,” Noah said, putting his coffee mug down and wiping his mouth. “But don’t make it that way.” The cops glanced uneasily at each other. “You’re putting in full-time hours. You’re exhausted. This is Violet’s call, not yours.”

Violet’s breath caught as the seconds ticked by. She could not stand to see tension between Zach and Noah, not now, not because of her. She touched his hand, just grazing his fingertips. “Zach,” she murmured, then louder. “You win. I’ll go to Mom and Dad’s tomorrow, after I get some things together. I’m exhausted, and I want to tell the building’s superintendent in the morning so I’ll stay one more night at the apartment.”

Her father frowned. “But tonight would be better, really, Vi...”

She gave him the sternest look she could manage. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He huffed out a breath. “All right. Tomorrow morning. We’ll get the room ready for you.”

“By we he means me,” her mother said.

“I’m not giving up my airport job, mind you, only my living space and only temporarily.”

After another long moment Zach relaxed. It seemed as though all the cops in the room did, as well. “All right, but I’m still spending the night on your sofa,” Zach said.

Her nerves ignited. “That sofa is as comfortable as sleeping on a sack of potatoes.”

“I’ll survive.”

“I don’t want you to bother.”

“No bother.”

“Zach, you can’t sleep on my sofa.” Exasperation crept into her tone.

“Then I’ll stretch out in your hallway and annoy the neighbors. They can step over me on the way to the elevator. The butcher will love it.”

She glared. He stared. She fisted her hands on her hips. He hooked thumbs in his utility belt and gave her a slow, sassy smile, one that said, “I win and there’s nothing you can do about it.” She could have resisted further, but the smile was edged with something deeper, something soft that played at the edges of his mouth, tangled with the stubbornness.

“The butcher stays awake until three in the morning and plays nonstop polka music,” she said in a last-ditch measure.

“Then I guess I’d better eat a hearty meal before I go off to the torture chamber.” He had the audacity to wink at her.

She shook her head, biting back the retort that would not do any good, she realized.

“How about some lunch?” he said. “All these cops are starving, right, guys?”

They all broke into loud agreement, probably happy the standoff was at an end.

Zach cocked his head. “You see? Starving.” He struck a plaintive expression that made him look all of ten years old. “Please feed us, Vi, before we keel over from hunger.”

Violet looked from Zach to her parents, to all the other cops gathered around the table and she knew that she had lost the battle.

Fine, she resolved. I’ll do what you want, just for a while, but I’m not going to let good guys or bad guys have control over my life.

“Lunch is coming right up,” she said through gritted teeth.