Читать книгу The Partner - Kay David - Страница 9

RISA SHOT BACK.

When she stopped, three men lay on the sidewalk.

Down the street, sirens filled the silence, their wails growing louder as the police cars neared. With the part of her brain that wasn’t operating on automatic, Risa realized Luke had to have called for backup before he’d gotten out of the car.

The door of the club flew open and she swung her weapon toward it. Whoever was behind the door thought better of their actions and it instantly shut again, slamming against the frame so hard a piece of wood popped off.

The taste of fear filling her mouth, Risa approached the men with her gun extended. They weren’t moving, but Risa was a woman who didn’t take chances. She kicked their weapons under a nearby car, then bent down to the first man. He was slumped against the edge of the building and he sat in a spreading pool of blood.

He was dead.

The second one had a pulse but it was thready.

She reached Luke’s side, her pistol still pointed at the other two as she dropped to her knees on the dirty pavement. Pressing a finger against his neck, she searched for a rhythm. Her own heart was beating so fast all she could feel was the rush of blood inside her veins. She took a deep breath then held it, pushing her finger deeper into the side of his throat.

His eyelids fluttered open and she nearly passed out with relief.

“Hang on,” she said breathlessly. “Help’s coming, Luke. Hang on, okay?”

He smiled sweetly and said, “Okay.” Then his eyes rolled back and he went completely still.

GRADY WILSON HATED when the phone woke him up at four in the morning. The news was never good, he thought, fumbling for his glasses with one hand and for the lamp with his other. No one called that early in the morning to tell you you’d won a trip to Tahiti or that something had come up and your in-laws were not going to visit after all. Life didn’t work that way.

He picked up the receiver and answered. “Wilson here.”

“We’ve got trouble.” Stan Richards, Grady’s boss, sounded somewhat more awake than Grady but just barely.

“Imagine that.” Grady tested his theory. “I thought you might be calling to give me a raise.”

“You don’t need a raise,” Stan said sourly. “You’ve already got more money than God and you’re probably going to quit next week anyway.”

Grady ignored the money comment—he taught two night courses at the University of Houston on the side, so everyone thought he was rich. They had no idea college professors were as badly paid as cops. “You might be right about the quitting part,” he said instead. “I’ll decide after I hear about this trouble.”

Richards’s voice became serious. “It’s bad. In fact, it doesn’t get much worse. We’ve got an officer down over on the Strip.”

“Dead?”

“Not yet, but it doesn’t look good.”

“Damn.” Grady swung his legs to the side of the bed. “Who was it? Anyone we know?”

“Guy by the name of Luke Rowling. SCD.”

“Sex Crimes? What’d he do? Wander into a bust or something?”

“We don’t know right now. Chief Tanner got called so I got called so you got called. Go find out. I’m supposed to report directly to her personal assistant.”

“Directly?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Well, no, but—”

“The guy’s partner is Risa Taylor. You do know her, don’t you?”

“‘The Body’ Taylor?”

“The one and only. You’re a lucky man.”

Grady moaned. “I’m too damn old for this, Stan. Call someone else—”

“Can’t do that. It’s certainly not official but rumor has it, you were requested for the case. Taylor’s family is true blue and she’s tight with the chief. I suspect the Iron Lady wants this done right with no questions left.”

“So? What’s that got to do with me?”

“I don’t approve of your techniques, but you are the best. When you’re finished with it, everyone will know the case is tighter than a gnat’s ass and they’ll be satisfied.” Grady heard papers shuffling, then Stan spoke again. “They’re still on scene, Fifty-six eighty-nine Richmond, Tequila Jack’s. Samuel Andrews is the homicide lieutenant.”

As Stan hung up on him, Grady realized what was going on. Chief Tanner might have requested Richards to report directly to her assistant, but she wouldn’t have asked for Grady. Stan had put him on the case because he didn’t like Grady and had probably wanted to call him out at this ungodly hour.

A former instructor at the Police Academy, Catherine Tanner had been the HPD commander for some time, but Grady’s direct interactions with the woman had been too limited for her to ask for him, even if she were inclined to do so. Despite the gossip he’d heard about her, she was supposed to be fair and levelheaded, but a few people thought she’d gotten her job through connections rather than talent, and rumors continued to circulate about some type of vague corruption going on at the higher levels. Fair or biased, crooked or straight, it didn’t matter to Grady. He only delivered the truth.

Fifteen minutes later he was dressed and in his car. Fifteen minutes after that he pulled into the parking lot of the bar. Grady had the feeling he could have found the place without the yellow-and-purple neon sign of a fat man wearing a huge hat and holding a margarita glass. Dozens of cop cars with flashing red lights were parked haphazardly on the sidewalk and in the street. Nearly that many television vans lined the street on the opposite side.

Pushing through the reporters and hangers-on, Grady spotted Samuel Andrews. Simultaneously yelling into a cell phone, talking to two other cops and answering a reporter’s questions, the African-American lieutenant saw Grady and motioned him forward.

Grady nodded but took his time, looking around first. A blue plastic sheet covered a body, but it was the only one. Scanning the scene, he searched for Risa Taylor. He’d popped off about her nickname, but in truth, he wasn’t sure he’d even recognize the woman. She was supposed to be a looker and very, very smart…so naturally most of the male cops hated her and/or lusted after her. Grady couldn’t think of a more volatile mix inside a police department—resentment and sexual tension. Yipperdoodle, he thought dryly. This was going to be a real fun case.

He came to Andrews’s side and waited for his turn. Andrews handled everyone else smoothly and quickly then he faced Grady, his expression wary, his demeanor less friendly. Grady barely noticed. He was accustomed to the low-level hostility that followed him wherever he went. Everyone hated Internal Affairs.

They shook hands. “Bad night,” Grady said. “Any news on the officer who was shot?”

“I wouldn’t be counting on him for the next shift. They took him to Ben Taub but he looked like he was already gone.”

Grady held back a flinch. Most of the patients who were sent to the trauma hospital were so bad the docs swore they brought the dead back to life more often than they healed the sick.

“Where’s the partner?”

“EMS guys took her, too.”

“She was hurt?” Grady’s voice held surprise. Stan had said nothing about this.

Andrews lifted his hand and drew a line down his cheek. “Just a graze. Didn’t look too bad but you know the medics. She tried to stay then finally gave in.” He tilted his head toward the blue-covered mound behind them. “That’s Juan Doe, número uno over there. Número dos went to Taub with the rest of the party, but I think he’s had his last enchilada.”

Andrews continued his explanation and Grady listened, his eyes going to the other side of the parking lot, where support guys had begun to crawl between the cars and underneath the bushes. Every once in a while, they’d stop, open a baggie and drop something inside.

“Any questions?” Andrews finished.

“Not for now.” Grady always let the lieutenants talk, but he got his real information from the officers and the scene itself. “I’ll be in touch, though.”

Andrews nodded with a dour expression. “I’m sure you will.”

Grady wandered for another half hour, talking to the uniforms and letting the details register. He was just about to leave for the hospital when he overheard two of the techs. They’d been crisscrossing the parking lot, looking at the cars and trees.

“Even I coulda hit something,” one of them said, shaking his head. “That many shots fired? These guys musta been blind.”

Grady stopped. He knew a lot of the crime-scene technicians, and for the most part, they were friendlier to him than the officers. “What’s up?”

They looked up and greeted him. “No slugs,” the nearest one explained. “I don’t know what these guys were smoking, but they musta been shooting into the sky.” He held up his baggies. “Plenty of shells, but no slugs yet.”

“Keep looking, gentlemen. I’m sure you’ll do your best for the glory of HPD.”

They grinned and returned to their search as Grady headed for his car. The techs always said they couldn’t find the slugs, but sooner or later they located them. Lodged in telephone poles or buildings, tires or pavement, the spent bullets hid themselves well. Once, the day after a shooting, they’d had a guy bring a motorcycle into the station. Without even realizing it, he’d driven by a holdup in progress and caught a slug in his tire. When he’d heard the news that night, he figured out why he’d gotten a flat.

Back on the Southwest Freeway, Grady headed for the medical center.

AGAINST THE WISHES of her father and her three brothers, who followed him in everything, Risa had attended the Houston Police Academy at twenty-one, the first year she’d become eligible. The rivalry, or maybe it was animosity, between her and her siblings was nothing new—they would have disapproved of anything she did short of becoming a nun—but her father’s reaction had stung. Somehow, deep down, Risa had always thought that if she followed in his footsteps he might finally give her the same kind of attention he’d lavished on her brothers.

She’d been wrong.

When she’d told him she’d been accepted, Ed Taylor had frowned and muttered something about regret, then he’d disappeared into the garage of his aging home in Meyerland where Risa had grown up. She’d started after him, then she’d spit out, “What the hell,” and had left, understanding, better than ever, how her mother must have felt when she left him. If you didn’t see the world the same way Ed Taylor saw it, you were worthless to him. No wonder her mother had hit the road and never looked back. Risa got a Christmas card from her yearly and that was it. The lack of communication had hurt until she’d finally understood.

After she began her classes, the ache eased even more. Time had something to do with it, but more significantly, she made friends. She’d never been very good at that—and she still wasn’t—but the five women she’d met during the six-month course were different from any she’d ever known.

Except for one, they surrounded her now, their faces etched with concern as she sat on the table in the emergency-room cubicle. Hearing the officer-down call and recognizing Risa’s partner’s name, they’d come in from every side of town. Risa was incredibly grateful for their company and support. If she’d been the kind of woman who let herself say so, she would have broken down and told them what they meant to her.

Abby Carlton stood the closest, her hand warm on Risa’s back as she patted her shoulder in a comforting way. At twenty-nine, she was nearest in age to Risa’s twenty-seven, but she was the “mother” of the group. In a heartrending decision, she’d dropped out of the Academy to follow the love of her life, but things hadn’t worked out. She’d returned to Houston a year later to complete her classes, ending up in patrol and doing extra duty on the Crisis Intervention Team. Her warm eyes were filled with sympathy and pain, not just for Risa’s injury, which was minor, but for everything that had happened in the past few hours.

Crista Santiago stood on the other side, fiercely gripping Risa’s left hand. A Latina from the east side, Crista was thirty-three. She’d had a difficult time growing up in Houston’s barrios, but she’d risen above her former life and come out a survivor. A detective, she was tough…and gorgeous. She swung her dark hair away from her face as she leaned closer.

“Everything will be okay, chica.” As if her words could make it so, Crista spoke with confidence. The only hint she was upset was the Spanish that slipped out apparently before she could stop it. “Thank God, you got the sorry cabrones who did this…”

Risa squeezed Crista’s hand in acknowledgment then dropped it as Lucy Montalvo spoke from the foot of the gurney. “You got them both?”

Lucy was in the Missing Persons Unit of the Investigations Command. She was single-minded and ambitious and she’d made her way up the department just like Risa had—by working hard and being determined. Neither of them had a lot of free time to do things together, but out of all the women, Risa felt closest to Lucy. For good or for bad, they each valued their careers more than anything else in their lives.

Risa nodded.

“That’s some kind of shootin’. Those hours at the range finally paid off.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she answered quietly. “When Luke came around the corner, they opened up.”

“You did what you had to, Risa.” Mei Lu Ling spoke from the other side of the room. Leaning against the wall, her thin form dressed in black, she looked every inch the successful businesswoman she’d once been. She was a valuable member of the White-collar Crimes Unit, putting that experience to good use. She’d be a lieutenant by this time next year, Risa guessed. Even-tempered and measured in her ways, Mei Lu offered sound advice now. “Don’t look back. You did what you had to.”

“I know,” Risa lied. “But it all happened so fast and then boom! It was over, just like that. Luke was bleeding and I told him to hang on and he said he would, then…” She looked down at her hands. They should have been shaking, because she was on the inside, but they lay in her lap, perfectly still with streaks of dried blood on them. She raised her eyes. “Then he died anyway. He was gone before the ambulance even got here.”

Silence filled the cubicle as Risa’s words seemed to hang in the air.

“Have you heard from Catherine?” Crista asked after a moment.

Risa shook her head. Catherine Tanner’s presence would have made the group complete, but she would be swamped right now with other duties. She’d been one of their instructors at the Academy and now at forty-five she was the oldest and most experienced of them. She was also the chief of police. Only one other woman in Houston’s history had served in that position and she’d been appointed by a female mayor. To the majority of the force that had meant she didn’t count.

“She won’t come,” Lucy said, echoing Risa’s thoughts. “She can’t appear to be too close to Risa right now or people might read it wrong. Plus she’s got to deal with the media and IA and everything else—”

“Including Luke’s family.” Abby turned to Risa, her expression anxious. “He was married, wasn’t he, Risa? Did he have any children?”

Risa nodded slowly, instantly deciding the details of Luke’s disintegrating home situation would be a secret she would keep. “His wife’s name is Melinda, and yes, they have a little boy,” she answered. “I think he’s three, maybe four…” Her sentence petered out as her chest tightened. She hoped the poor kid would get a better deal than she had, but any way you sliced it, growing up in a one-parent household was not for sissies.

The curtains surrounding the cubicle parted and the doctor who’d stitched Risa’s cheek stepped in, a male nurse by his side. Pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, the physician handed it to Risa while the other man began to clean up the remnants of bandages and tape scattered over the counter.

“That’s a script for a painkiller,” the doctor said. Retrieving another one from his other pocket, he held it out, too. “And this is for some sleeping pills. You might have some trouble the next few days—”

Still woozy from the shot he’d given her to stitch her face, Risa shook her head…a little too hard. She gripped the table. “I don’t need it.”

“You’ve just been through a very traumatic situation. Are you sure?”

She stood up and the room spun. “I’m very sure,” she answered. “I don’t take stuff like that.”

His wavering image split into three men in three white coats. Each of them nodded. “All right,” he said with a sigh. The sound said he’d dealt with cops before. They were all macho—the men and the women.

Risa nodded—a big mistake—then she walked out of the cubicle, her friends on either side supporting her in more ways than one.

THE WAITING ROOM WAS a blue sea and it would remain so until Luke’s body was released. That’s the way it had always been done when an officer got shot and Risa expected the tradition would never change. She entered, then stutter-stepped slightly, Abby clutching her right elbow, Lucy still holding her left. Their grips were firm but discreet. Any sign of weakness from a female cop, even one who’d just been shot, set them all back.

“Hang tough,” Crista murmured from behind her. “We’ll talk to the widow then get you out, okay?”

Risa nodded, the word widow throwing her for a second.

The women waded en masse through the uniforms, eyes watching from every corner of the room. In truth, the majority of the men they worked alongside were okay, but the few who weren’t pleasant were a vocal minority. Risa heard someone mutter, “…better partner this wouldn’t have happened…” then she found herself staring at David Kinner. A fellow S.C.D. officer, Kinner was rude, repulsive and tried his best to make every woman on the force feel unwanted. Risa read his lips as he leaned toward the cop on his right and spoke.

“Five butts, one brain…”

They’d almost come to blows the first time he’d uttered the insult. She and her friends, still in the Academy, had been passing his table in the cafeteria when he’d said the words just loud enough for them to hear. Risa had immediately questioned his manhood and his alleged affinity for farm animals, but her comeback hadn’t been enough to quiet him. He was persistent as well as stupid.

She ignored Kinner’s remark and stepped before the thin, pale woman who’d been married to Luke.

Melinda Rowling was in her late twenties, maybe early thirties at the most, but grief had done its job and at the moment she could have easily passed for forty. Her expression blank, her eyes red and swollen, she brushed a hank of blond hair off her forehead then dropped her hands to her lap, raising her gaze to Risa’s at the same time.

They’d talked only briefly at Christmas parties and the like. Not sure Luke’s wife would recognize her, Risa went to her knees and put her hands over Melinda’s. Too late, she remembered the dried blood that still painted her fingers. Melinda didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m so sorry,” Risa said, her voice cracking despite herself. “I tried to stop them, Melinda, I swear. I—I just wasn’t fast enough.”

She blinked at Risa with eyes as pale as her hair. “I’m sure you did all that could be done.” Her words were spoken as if by rote, dully and in a chopped-up fashion.

Risa didn’t quite know what she’d expected from Melinda, but this wasn’t it. Grief, for sure, anger, perhaps? She pondered the question for a second then suddenly realized the obvious: Melinda was doped to her eyeballs, which was probably a good idea, Risa decided.

“I’m sorry,” Risa repeated. “If there’s anything I can do…”

As Melinda nodded, Risa began to rise but she was pulled back abruptly, Melinda gripping her stained fingers to hold her still. “Did he say anything?” she whispered.

Risa looked into her tortured eyes and made an instant decision, lying without hesitation. “He said he loved you and Jason.”

A momentary confusion flickered over Melinda Rowling’s face, then it was gone.

Without another word, she released Risa’s hands. Her emotions in chaos, her cheek now throbbing, Risa stood unsteadily then turned to leave. The uniformed men parted silently as the five women walked through them. After they passed, the path behind them closed once more and the vigil resumed.

THE WOMEN WALKED Risa to the hospital’s lobby, arguing over who would spend the night with her. She let them yak until they reached the elevator for the parking garage.

“No one’s staying with me,” she said firmly. “I need a ride home and then I’ll be fine.”

Abby looked at her with worried eyes. “You can’t be by yourself tonight, Risa. You’re been through too much to be alone.”

Mei Lu concurred. “You need company.”

“I’ll be fine,” Risa repeated, “and besides, I want to be alone. I need to think about everything that happened.”

“But that’s the problem,” Crista replied. “You’ll think too much and get even more upset.” She stepped to Risa’s side and put her arm around her shoulder, squeezing her gently.

As usual, Lucy was the lone dissenter. “Come on, you guys, Risa knows what she’s talking about. Let’s let her work this out like she wants to. I think that’s for the best.”

The others looked uncertain but, one by one, agreed, albeit reluctantly. Exchanging a final hug, they went their separate ways, Crista the one elected to drive Risa home. They headed down an almost deserted Main Street, winding through Rice University until they came out at the freeway again.

Crista glanced in her rearview mirror then over at Risa. “You did the right thing tonight, so I hope you don’t start second-guessing what happened.”

“I won’t,” Risa said woodenly.

“Yes, you will,” Crista replied. “You already are. I heard what you said to Melinda.”

“I didn’t know what else to say.” Risa stared blindly out the window at the passing buildings. “I had to say something.”

“So you’re okay with how it went down?”

“I’m okay with it.”

The rest of the twenty-minute drive was silent until they pulled into the driveway of the modest town house Risa had bought the year before. She said, “Thank you,” and started to climb out, but Crista’s voice stopped her.

“You better prepare yourself, Risa. This could get rough, you know. I’ve seen the system chew up and spit out a lot of folks, and sometimes the truth gets lost in the process, especially when the IA guys get involved.”

“I know there’ll be a dog-and-pony show, but I’ll get through it. I’m a cop’s daughter—remember?”

As the words left her mouth, Risa winced. God, her father… He was sure to know what had happened by now. He was even more connected since he’d retired than he had been in the past; he heard the department’s latest gossip before Risa.

“All I’m saying is you have to look out for yourself, okay? No one else is going to do it for you.”

Risa stepped out of the car then glanced back through the open window. “I’ll be all right.”

Crista nodded then Risa turned and went up the sidewalk, the Jeep’s lights shining on her as she unlocked the door. Inside the sanctuary of her home, she closed her eyes and lay her head against the front door, a weariness sweeping over her that quickly found a path all the way down to her bones. Her eyes were dry, though. She wouldn’t cry, because she couldn’t. She’d been just a child when her last tear had been shed and she could still remember her father’s mocking voice as it had slid down her cheek. “Buck up, Risa! Taylors never cry.”

“Taylors never cry,” she repeated softly in the dark. As if waiting for an answer, she paused, but there wasn’t one, so she straightened and walked into the kitchen, going directly to the refrigerator. She wasn’t a big drinker, but she kept some beer on hand for her friends. Pulling a Tecate out, she popped the can open and was lifting it to her mouth when the phone on the wall rang shrilly.

“Ed Taylor, Senior” flashed across the caller ID screen, and her hand hesitated over the receiver. Two more rings sounded before she picked it up.

She said hello and her father answered her, his gruff greeting followed by a heavy, accusatory silence. She hated the games he played and usually she fought them, but tonight Risa didn’t have the strength. Something about life-and-death situations took it right out of you, she guessed.

“You heard the news,” she said into the void. “Thanks for calling to check on me.”

Her voice held a tinge of sarcasm, but like always, her father ignored it. “Bobby told me what happened.”

Bobby was his former partner, and he was as attached to his police scanner as he was the oxygen tank he had to drag everywhere, years of cigarettes catching up with him. Risa had been surprised her father hadn’t come down with cancer himself, just from sharing a cop car with the guy all that time.

“Well, Bobby’s always got the goods.” She could hear her father’s television in the background. It stayed on 24/7. “I guess you know everything, then.”

“I know you’re alive and your partner isn’t.” He stopped there, his unspoken censure obvious.

Your brothers wouldn’t have gotten themselves into this kind of situation. I always knew something like this was going to happen. You’re supposed to back up your partner, not get him shot. What the hell have you done now, Risa?

She had never measured up. And she never would.

Swallowing her defensiveness, she gave him the details, leaving out Luke’s inebriation. Her father would be the last one to let it slip, but if the truth got out, Risa feared Luke’s family might be in danger of losing all they had left now—his pension. Should the medical examiner run a drug-and-alcohol scan, which he probably wouldn’t without cause, then the chips could fall where they did, but Risa wasn’t going to bring the subject up.

“I’ve got it under control,” she concluded tightly. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I don’t have anything to worry about regardless,” he answered. “This is your bag, Risa. You gotta carry it by yourself.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t want to do anything to make the family look bad.” Her father had left the force with all the right medals pinned to his chest, and her brothers were equally well regarded. The four of them were known as cop’s cops. Risa lightened her tone. “Gotta keep the Taylor rep, you know.”

He spoke without hesitating, his criticism slicing her heart in two. “I think it’s too damn late to worry about that now.”