Читать книгу Good Night, Gracie - Kristin Gabriel - Страница 13

ZACH MADDOX SAT illuminated in the blue glow of the computer screen. He’d been there for hours, cross-coding files and making another security sweep of the hard drive. At least, that was the excuse he was using to stay on the job. The reality was that he’d been waiting to hear from Gracie. He knew this was the day the decision was due from the Kendall Historical Society. He hoped her silence meant that she was out celebrating.

Yawning, he stretched his arms over his head, trying to ease the stiffness in his shoulders. He’d spent more time in this chair the past few months than he had in his own bed. Despite his efforts, they weren’t any closer to discovering where Gilbert Holloway was hiding. The man had disappeared three months ago.

Holloway, a key witness in a conspiracy case involving credit card theft, had demanded police protection in return for his testimony. Closing his eyes, Zach wondered for the thousandth time why he’d let his partner stay alone with Holloway that night. The rookie had been determined to prove himself, but Zach should have followed his instincts and pulled the duty himself.

That mistake had gotten Ray shot and cost him the use of his legs.

Some thug had broken in shortly before dawn, apparently to scare Holloway into silence. Ray had fallen asleep on the living room sofa. When he’d heard a window break, he’d panicked and pulled his gun before taking cover.

According to Ray’s story, the thug had wrestled him for it while Gilbert escaped out the back door. The gun went off, wounding Ray and scaring the thug away. Zach still remembered coming in that morning to find his partner unconscious on the floor in a pool of blood.

The kid had taken a bullet in the back and it had been touch-and-go for a while. Long enough for Zach to feel out of control, a sensation he always did his best to avoid. So he turned his attention to something he could control—bringing the shooter in. He was certain Holloway could identify him—now he just had to find the guy.

Footprints in the dew-laden grass had led them to a neighbor’s garage, where Holloway had apparently hot-wired a Jeep Cherokee before taking off to parts unknown. Three days later the Jeep had been found abandoned on a back road in southern Ohio, but there was no sign of Gilbert Holloway anywhere.

His best guess was that their star witness had staged a disappearing act for his own safety, not trusting the police to protect him anymore. Zach supposed he couldn’t really blame the guy—though he thought Holloway was a bit of a wimp. One of those computer jockeys who lived, ate, and slept in front of a keyboard and monitor.

Like Zach was doing now.

At least he had a good reason. All of their leads had turned out to be dead ends. The only hope of finding Holloway now was connecting with one of his friends in cyberspace. Someone who might drop a clue as to where the man would hide.

It wasn’t much to go on, but Zach didn’t have any alternatives.

A ding resounded from the computer, signaling an incoming e-mail. Zach sat up straight in the chair, his pulse picking up speed.

Gracie.

His reaction had nothing to do with the case and everything to do with the woman on the other side of that e-mail. A friend of Holloway’s from high school, the two of them had corresponded daily for the past ten years. After Holloway had disappeared, Zach had taken up the slack, pretending to be Gilbert. At first, he’d hoped to catch a break in the case, thinking Gracie Dawson might reveal something useful. After all, it seemed she knew the guy better than anybody.

But he soon discovered she knew nothing of Gilbert’s foray into the criminal world. Zach should have stopped corresponding with her when he realized she couldn’t help him locate Gilbert, but something kept drawing him to her e-mails. Something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Her witty, irreverent style? The way she made him laugh? Or maybe the loneliness he glimpsed between the lines. The same loneliness that engulfed him when he stopped working long enough to notice it.

He soon found himself caught up in the details of her life and in the woman herself. Zach knew how much she’d loved her aunt. How much she hated working at the bookstore. How long she’d dreamed of going to law school so she could become a plaintiff’s attorney and fight all the injustices in the world.

A noble ambition. One that made him admire her all the more. Zach had tracked down an old high school yearbook in Gilbert’s house to find her picture. He knew people changed over ten years, but she’d still have those same wide blue eyes. That same enticing smile.

He knew it was crazy to lust after a woman he’d never even met—one who lived over a thousand miles away. But maybe that’s why she appealed to him.

Zach wasn’t looking for a close relationship with a woman. He had seen too many fellow officers leave a wife and family behind to risk inflicting that kind of heartache on anyone. That’s why he kept his relationships short-term, preferring to devote himself to his work. Everybody had to make choices in life.

Zach chose to go it alone.

He reached for the mouse, clicking on the e-mail. The subject line read Plan B. That wasn’t a good sign.

Hi Gilbert,

I guess I’m not cut out to chase ambulances. Besides, who wants to graduate from law school when they’re thirty-four years old? If you haven’t guessed by now, the Kendall Historical Society turned down our application. So that means I’ll have to find a new place for Between the Covers in the next twenty days and work there for approximately the next twenty years to pay off all the bills.

But no more whining. I promise.

Did you get your invitation to our high school reunion? Are you coming? It’s been ten years since we’ve seen each other. That’s much too long. I miss you, Gil, and I really need to see you.

Please say you’ll be there.

Love, Gracie.

Zach read her e-mail again, feeling the pain behind her words. Giving up law school was killing her, no matter how she tried to brush it aside. Just last month she’d sent him an e-mail telling about her acceptance at the University of Texas. Her excitement had jumped off the computer screen.

Now she was in pain, though he knew she’d never reveal it to anyone else. Zach just wished there was some way to make her feel better. The same helplessness that had come over him in the hospital gnawed at him now.

Please say you’ll be there.

Zach was so tempted. But how could he fly off to Texas when he had a job to do? Besides, she wanted to see Gilbert Holloway, not him. She didn’t even know Zach existed.

He hit the reply button, then poised his fingers over the keyboard, hating the thought of causing her more disappointment. For a moment, he considered putting off a reply until tomorrow, but he didn’t think he should give himself that time to mull over his response. His strong desire to see Gracie might overcome his better judgment.

Staring at the blank screen, he searched for the perfect words to let her down easy. At least she could commiserate with Cat, Laine, Tess and Trina. He’d read enough stories about them in her e-mails to make him feel as if he knew them all personally.

But Gracie was the one he saw when he closed his eyes at night. The one he made love to in his dreams.

“Just do it,” Zach muttered to himself, hating any kind of procrastination. He believed in taking action, no matter what the consequences. That philosophy had saved his life on more than one occasion.

But as he started to type Gracie’s name, a pop sounded from the computer and the screen went black, leaving him in total darkness. He rose from the chair and flipped up the light switch on the wall. Nothing. The electricity was off. What he didn’t know yet was the reason why. A simple power failure or something more sinister?

Pulling his gun from his shoulder holster, Zach moved into the hallway. He didn’t have a flashlight on him, but he knew the house well enough to navigate his way through the darkness and into the living room. Once there, light from the street lamps shone through the large picture window, illuminating his path. He could see the shadow of the bloodstain on the carpet where Ray had fallen—a daily reminder of how much was at stake in this investigation.

He cocked the gun, then moved into the kitchen. Two voices, both male, emanated from the garage. Zach stopped when he heard a door open into the house and leaned back against a cupboard.

“Yeah, it sucks, but at least we get overtime,” said one of the men.

“Does overtime include the last four hours we spent at the bar watching the Red Sox?” asked the other.

“Hey, I’ll earn a lot more than that if the Sox can win that thing. I’ve got a couple hundred bucks on ’em.”

Zach holstered his gun. He recognized the voices and knew he wasn’t in any danger. They belonged to the department’s technicians, Shawn Foy and Jason Billings. Now he just had to find out what the hell they were doing here.

As the two men rounded the corner, the beam of a flashlight landed directly on Zach. They both jumped in surprise when they saw him.

“Damn,” Shawn exclaimed. “You scared the crap out of me, Maddox.”

“The lights were all off,” Jason said. “We thought the house was empty.”

“You were wrong.” Zach held one hand in front of his face to shadow it from the beam. “Turn that thing another direction before you blind me. Did you two shut off the electricity?”

“Sure did,” Shawn replied. “We’ve got orders from Brannigan to close up the house and pack up all the equipment—including the computer.”

Thomas Brannigan was Zach’s commanding officer and in charge of the Holloway case. Aveteran detective, he worked strictly by the book, which had caused more than a few skirmishes between the two of them. But he’d never done anything behind Zach’s back before.

“Do you always work in the dark?” Zach asked, looking between the two of them.

Jason scowled. “It’s not my fault. Shawn here thinks I’ll turn on the ball game and leave him to do all the work.”

“I don’t think it, I know it,” Shawn quipped. “That game was going into the fourteenth inning when I finally dragged him out of the bar. It’s not worth losing my job over.”

But Zach, once a rabid Red Sox fan, hadn’t cared much about baseball over the past three months. All he cared about right now was solving this case. “Brannigan didn’t say anything to me about moving the operation.”

“We’re not moving it,” Jason said. “We’re shutting it down.”

Zach stared at him. “Like hell.”

Shawn moved past him. “Sorry, Maddox, but we’ve got our orders. If you don’t like it, you’ll just have to talk to the boss. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can get back to the game.”

Zach followed them into the small office and watched them unplug all the cables from the computer. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Adding to his irritation was the fact that he hadn’t gotten a chance to reply to Gracie’s e-mail.

Certain there had to be a misunderstanding, Zach left the house and drove to Brannigan’s home. The trip from Holloway’s home on the south side of Boston took almost an hour. It was only when Brannigan answered his door wearing a robe and a scowl did Zach consider that he should have called first.

“Why the hell are you banging on my door at this time of night?” Thomas growled. “It sure as hell better be an emergency. My wife and kids are trying to sleep.”

“We need to talk.”

“Now?”

“It won’t take long.”

Brannigan’s scowl deepened, but he opened the door wider and waved Zach inside. “Make it quick.”

Zach crossed the threshold, almost tripping over a stuffed teddy bear in the foyer. Brannigan had four kids under the age of ten, a fact that was evident everywhere Zach looked. The toys littering the floor. The family pictures covering the wall. The cookie crumbs on the coffee table.

A sharp contrast to Zach’s place, which barely had any furniture. Just a sofa, a bed, and a thirteen-inch television set. Not that he minded the Spartan environment, since he didn’t spend much time there anyway.

“Well, get to it.” Thomas tossed a Barbie doll off the sofa cushion before taking a seat.

“I heard a rumor that you’re shutting down the Holloway case.”

“It’s no rumor,” Thomas replied. “You know as well as I do that this case has reached a dead end. We can’t afford to waste any more time on it.”

Waste time? Zach was certain he couldn’t be hearing him right. “So we just forget about it? Forget that Ray will never walk again? Forget that the scum who shot him is still out there somewhere?”

Brannigan’s face hardened. “I’ll never forget what happened to Ray. But you’ve been pushing the boundaries with this case ever since Ray got shot. I’ve given you some leeway, because he was your partner, but enough is enough. There are other cases to solve—other perps who need to be apprehended.”

Zach rifled a hand through his hair, grappling for a way to change Brannigan’s mind. His boss was a stubborn Irishman, but even he had to know this was a big mistake.

“You look like hell,” Thomas said, scowling at him. “When was the last time you shaved?”

“Why the hell does it matter? I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve been obsessed,” his boss countered. “I tried to call you at home tonight to give you the news about the investigation, but I had to leave a message on your machine. You were sitting in front of that damn computer at the Holloway house again, weren’t you?”

“That’s my job,” Zach reminded him.

“Don’t give me that crap,” Thomas spit out. “You’re not on duty twenty-four hours a day. You’ve lost weight and look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Maybe if you worried as much about this investigation as you do about my appearance, we’d have found Gilbert Holloway by now.”

Thomas slowly rose to his feet. “I’ve about had it with your attitude, Maddox. Don’t push me.”

But Zach didn’t back off. “Hell, somebody’s got to do it if we’re ever going to find the bastard who shot Ray.”

Thomas stared at him, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I think it’s time you took a vacation.”

“I don’t need a damn vacation. I just need to work this case.”

“That’s not going to happen. You’re off the case and off the force for the next thirty days. Effective immediately.”

His words were like a sucker punch to the gut. “You’re suspending me?”

“Call it a mandatory vacation,” Brannigan replied. “There’s more to life than the job, Zach. You’re going to burn out at this rate. You need to find yourself a beach somewhere in the Caribbean and start hunting for women instead of criminals.”

He recognized that obstinate glint in Brannigan’s green eyes. The man wasn’t going to change his mind. Zach had gone too far this time.

“Now go home,” Thomas ordered, ushering him to the door, “and get some sleep. I don’t want to see you for at least a month.”

Before he could say another word, Zach found himself standing outside, the door slammed in his face. He’d blown it. Standing on the front porch, he replayed their conversation over in his mind, wondering if there was something else he could have said to convince Brannigan to change his mind.

It was too late now. He was off the case. But he had no desire to play beach bum for the next four weeks. There was only one place he wanted to go—one person he wanted to see. And the reasons why he should stay away didn’t seem to matter anymore.

“Gracie Dawson, here I come.”