Читать книгу Deep Undercover - Lenora Worth - Страница 14

K-9 Officer Gavin Sutherland held tight to his partner Tommy’s leash and scanned the crowd, his mind on high alert, his whole body tense as he tried to protect the city he loved. People from all over the world stood shoulder to shoulder along the East River, waiting for the annual Fourth of July fireworks display. This New York tradition held a lot of challenges. He searched again in the park and along the riverfront on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

The upbeat crowd grew more rowdy as the late afternoon sunshine began to slowly descend beyond the Manhattan skyscrapers to the west. Even with the patriotic excitement of the crowd, anything could go wrong. The setting sun hit asphalt and concrete with a laser-like heat while the merging of people seemed to crush in on all sides.

The smell of someone’s perfume wafted up and out over the trees to mingle with the scents of cotton candy, street food and that other unique smell of sweaty humans having too much fun.

His partner, a black-and-white springer spaniel, knew the drill. Tommy worked bomb detection. People were always surprised that a springer could be so focused and sharp. Tommy had been trained to find incendiary devices. Period. End of discussion. His quiet, steady work didn’t require barking or bringing attention to himself. He knew to sniff the air and the ground. Sniff, sit, repeat. Be rewarded. But Gavin didn’t have to get defensive about his partner. Tommy lived for bomb detection, play toys and rewards.

Lately, Gavin had been the one who needed defending. He’d worked hard all of his life and done things by the book and yet a few choice words during a time of chaos and grief had put a target on his back. As a member of the NYC K-9 Command Unit, based in Queens, he took his job seriously and he’d like to keep it.

Pushing aside the bitterness he’d tried to shed over the last few months, Gavin studied the immediate crowd. A woman with a curly-haired baby laughing at the man by her side. A kid in a Yankees baseball cap tossing a soccer ball in the air, his expression bored. A man wearing a plaid cap carrying a dark backpack. Two young girls in jeans and flag-embossed shirts shoving through the crowd to get the perfect selfie with the backdrop of the city.

Tommy held his head up and sniffed. Too many scents. “It’s okay, boy. You’re doing great.”

Glancing up, Gavin spotted his backup, K-9 Officer Brianne Hayes, a rookie who had been paired with him to continue gaining experience. Her K-9 graduation ceremony should have taken place in the spring but had been postponed due to a tragic event that had rocked the entire K-9 Unit.

Back in April, their chief, Jordan Jameson, had been found dead under strange circumstances. He’d been murdered, but the death had been staged to look like a suicide. His administrative assistant, Sophie Walters, had discovered a suicide note, supposedly from Jordan, the morning of the scheduled graduation. Soon after, his body had been found. But they all knew Jordy had not committed suicide. The whole department was on a mission to find out who’d killed him. But a few key officers were not on the case. Jordan had three brothers in the K-9 Unit, and though they were naturally more driven than anyone to find the killer, the Jamesons had been assigned to other cases to avoid conflicts of interest.

No one had forgotten how Gavin had complained about being passed over as chief when the position had been given to Jordan. He and Jordan went way back but they hadn’t been close in years. Differences in style going back to their days in training at the Police Academy. Ancient history, but Gavin had learned the hard way not to air his grievances—not with so many Jamesons around to remember every angry word he’d uttered about losing out on the promotion.

They’d both graduated and become police officers. Jordan had gotten married to a good woman who was now pregnant and a widow. Gavin had worked with him, practically side by side, and watched him prosper but had always wondered why Jordan managed to stay one step ahead of him. Now Jordan was dead. Gavin’s resentment seemed silly and frivolous. The guilt of that ate at him.

When Jordan became chief, Gavin voiced that resentment. Just another thing between them. Then, shortly after his death, Jordan’s position had been given to his brother, Noah Jameson. Gavin had complained again, blurting out his feelings without even thinking. So much for not airing his grievances. After that, Jordan’s brothers and the department had unofficially deemed him a person-of-interest in Jordy’s death. Unbelievable. He’d been easily cleared—he’d been on duty working a big fund-raising event in Manhattan the night before Jordan had disappeared and his roommate had verified he was home the next morning when Jordan went missing on a jog—but things might not ever be the same.

“Hey, Sutherland, want a bottled water?” Brianne asked.

“Sure, Hayes. Bring it.”

Gavin tamped down his resentment about not being promoted, then said a prayer for patience and acceptance. He had to take the high road on this and see things through by helping to find the real killer. He might not have been Jordy’s buddy like in the old days, but he sure hadn’t killed the man. Now he worked twice as hard as anyone in the department to show his worth. So here he stood on a national holiday, hot, tired and wishing he was out on a boat somewhere.

Brianne headed toward him, her auburn hair caught up in a severe bun. He’d noticed her hair when she’d had it down. Straight and sweeping her shoulders in a soft sheen of deep red. That fire-colored hair matched her fierce determination to prove herself since she was one of only a few female K-9 officers in the city that never slept.

Brianne’s partner, Stella, was also in training with the K-9 handlers. The gentle yellow Lab had been pregnant a few months ago when she’d arrived in New York, a gift from the Czech Republic. She’d given birth to eight puppies that had all been farmed out to various officers and their families for socialization and possible future training as either K-9s or service dogs.

Brianne had taken on the job of training Stella in the basics, hoping to someday use her in bomb detection. They’d already started practicing—sniffing explosives, getting a treat and then doing it all over again. Once the dog learned she’d be rewarded for finding that particular scent, they’d move on from sit–stay–pay training to seek–find–reward. Stella now trained at the center and soon she’d be training doing the same thing Tommy specialized in—searching out bombs. Brianne had a way with animals from what he’d heard. Her smile had a way of calming him, Gavin had to admit.

“Thanks,” he said now as she handed him the ice-cold water, her lips pursed in professional determination.

“I’ve been along the perimeters of the park,” she said, her golden-brown eyes moving over a thousand faces, her heart-shaped face glowing with a sheen of perspiration. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Hot and humid and crowded. Can’t wait for the show.”

Gavin smiled at the droll sarcasm and gulped down half the water. Then he poured some in his hand for Tommy to drink. The spaniel lapped it up and wagged his tail. Brianne had already done the same with Stella.

Scanning the area again, he said, “I think the crowd grows every year. Standing-room only tonight.”

Brianne wiped a hand across her brow. “Stella keeps fidgeting and sniffing. She needs to get used to this.”

“Give her time. She’s a rookie like you.”

Brianne gave him a mock frown. “And you got stuck with me today.”

He didn’t mind that but he grinned and played along. “I drew the short straw.”

Or at least it felt that way at times, but not today. He’d had a thing for Brianne Hayes since he’d noticed her on her first day of K-9 training. But he’d never acted on his feelings because they worked together and because this job demanded his full attention. They mostly picked on each other and flirted in a playful way. Fine by Gavin. He’d dated off and on but most women couldn’t handle his long hours or dark moods.

“I drew the short straw,” she shot back. “I’d rather be sitting on my tiny back porch with the sprinkler wetting my feet. But Stella and me, we can handle you.”

As if she’d heard them talking about her, Stella stopped and lifted her nose into the air, a soft growl emitting from her throat.

Brianne held tight to the leash. “Steady, girl. You’ll need to contain that when the fireworks start.”

But Stella didn’t quit. The big dog tugged forward, her nose sniffing both air and ground.

Gavin watched the Labrador, wondering what kind of scent she’d picked up. Then Tommy alerted, going still except for his wagging tail that acted like a warning flag, his body trembling in place, his nose in the air. A whiff he recognized had hit his odor receptors and sent an alert to his somatosensory cortex so he could process the smell. And it had to be a familiar smell.

“Something’s up,” Gavin whispered to Brianne. “He’s picked up a signature somewhere.”

Brianne whispered low. “As in a bomb scent?”

“That’s his specialty.”

Gavin checked her to make sure she wouldn’t panic. Instead of panic, he saw something else in her eyes. Apprehension and anticipation. Brianne’s adrenaline faintly shouted at him.

Stella’s, too. The rookie knew enough training to expect a reward soon.

“This can’t be good,” Gavin whispered, watching the crowd. A mass of people side by side. With a bomb nearby, full-out chaos would hit. They’d have to work quietly and quickly to get this situation under control. “We need to verify and contain.” He did a sweep of the area. “If we find something, we need to call for backup immediately, okay?”

She nodded and did her own scan of the area.

“We’d better get to work,” she said as they both let their partners take the lead, guiding them in a rush through the crowd. “We might not have much time.”

It didn’t take long to find what the dogs had alerted on. The man Gavin had spotted earlier wearing the plaid cap and carrying a black backpack.

He wasn’t carrying the backpack now.

Gavin leaned toward Brianne. “We need to keep an eye on that man up ahead. Don’t let him get lost in the crowd. You follow him, and Tommy and I can search for the backpack.” Hurrying ahead, he reached for his radio to alert the other NYPD officers in the area.

Brianne nodded, her gaze zooming in on the man pushing through toward the south. “Think he’s the one?”

Gavin didn’t take his eyes off the man. “Yeah, I do.”

The woman he’d noticed earlier sat with her baby girl on a crowded bench, her child in her arms. The kid with the soccer ball kicked it into the air. The ball got lost in the fray, but someone caught it and sent it back to the kid.

“We need to stay calm and see what he does next,” he said to Brianne. “See where he goes. The dogs could be wrong, but I doubt that. Stay on the radio.”

Tommy alerted again, his eyes on the man ahead but then the dog lifted his nose in the air and changed courses. Gavin pushed his way through shoulder-to-shoulder people, some laughing and ignoring him, some glaring at him full-force. He’d only made it a few feet. Not good.

Gavin stayed focused, trying to keep his eyes on the man who seemed oblivious to all the people shoving at him or to Brianne following him. They got caught up in a large group of teenagers pushing forward around a big oak tree.

Tommy ignored the girls and kept tugging toward the tree. Gavin spotted the backpack, zipped up and sitting on a beach towel by the tree. Tommy headed to it, dug his paws in and lifted his eyes back to Gavin. He didn’t need to inspect the bag. If Tommy detected a bomb, Gavin believed him.

“Good work, Tommy.”

Gavin called Tommy back away from the area and took in the scene. People all around. He started pushing, trying to guide them away. “Excuse me, folks. Need to clear the area, please.”

But he didn’t have to say a word. People in New York knew this drill only too well. A man pointed and shouted after he saw Tommy and Gavin—and the backpack. “Suspicious package.”

Then someone else started shoving and running away. “Bomb!”

“Go,” Gavin called, waving his arms. “Leave the area.” Then he stood and spotted Brianne up ahead. She’d already lifted her phone off her waist clip, her eyes meeting his.

“Get back,” Gavin shouted, since people were beginning to whisper and stare. “Clear the area,” he ordered, lifting his arms to wave to the people near the bench while he and Tommy kept a safe distance away. “Clear the area. Move away from the riverfront.”

Brianne and Stella whizzed back toward him. He heard her radio it in through her mic. “10-33 in progress. East River Park. Intersection of East Houston and FDR.”

“Stay back, Bree,” he called. “Keep searching for the suspect.”

She nodded and, giving Gavin one last glance, turned back to her search.

Gavin kept his hand up to keep anyone from approaching too close and he made sure he and Tommy were a safe distance away. The crowd parted and scattered, parents screaming, searching for children, the group of teenaged girls taking off like a pack to get out of the way, families grabbing each other and pushing through the masses.

In the meantime, he radioed for patrol officers to keep the crowd back and listened in on further instructions until the bomb squad arrived. He could expect to see a whole slew of law enforcement agencies arrive soon, including the FBI, ATF and the New York City Fire Department, just in case. Dispatch had already alerted officers up and down the riverfront on both sides of the firework barges. Unless they found more suspicious packages, the show would go on. But it might be delayed if this turned out to be more than a lone, random act.

Gavin prayed that wouldn’t be the case.

* * *

People were running, screaming, shoving. The little boy with the soccer ball fell and cried out in pain. Someone helped him up while his ball went flying and dropped into the frightened crowd. The woman with the baby abandoned her stroller and took off running, holding her wailing child close to her shoulder. Her husband called after her and caught up to hold his family tight.

People shuffled to get away, some tripping and getting up while others stopped to help. An elderly man pushed a woman in a wheelchair. Too close.

Gavin hurried with Tommy toward the couple, hoping to get them away from the backpack, his heart pumping.

But before he could get to them, a boom and flash, smoke all around, people screaming and shouting, calling out to their loved ones. Gavin felt the blowback hit him in the gut, knocking him down. He stumbled while Tommy leaped into the air and fell over Gavin.

His ears ringing, Gavin sat up and rubbed Tommy’s fur. “Thank you, boy. Good boy.” His partner appeared intact and ready to get back on the job.

Gavin moved toward the smoke, searching for the old man who’d been pushing the woman in the wheelchair. Had they managed to get out of the way?

Tommy sniffed as they neared the area, the acrid smell from the explosion causing people to cough. The backpack had been incinerated. Gone. A black hole covered the spot where the blanket still burned. Searching for the wheelchair, Gavin also looked for Brianne and Stella. The last time he’d seen them they were coming back toward the tree.

The smoke settled enough that he saw the old man sitting on the ground by the wheelchair, his forehead bleeding. He and the woman held hands. Both safe and sound and looking at each other.

Gavin headed toward them to make sure they were okay. “You folks all right?”

The man nodded, still holding his wife’s hand. “Forty-eight years together. We’re tougher than we look, son.”

Gavin talked to them in a calm voice, making sure they were both okay and telling them help was on the way. Their love for each other was evident—like a punch to the gut but in a good way.

Then he glanced up and saw Brianne and Stella coming from the other direction, Brianne limping. But she gave him a thumps-up.

“Lost the suspect when someone in the crowd accidentally knocked me to the ground. Heading back,” she reported over the radio. Brianne turned toward Gavin, Stella dancing at her feet. Shrugging, she held up her hands in defeat.

They’d lost the bomber. But the entire NYPD now had his description from Gavin. The man could easily detonate another bomb at any minute, though. But Gavin had to wonder if he’d planned the attack to hit when the fireworks started going off. Worst-case scenario. Yet the bomb hadn’t done a lot of damage. Someone out for kicks? Or sending a warning to the city?

He let out a breath of relief but knew it would be short-lived. He had to go over this bomb scene and do a search for the man they’d spotted. What if he’d planted more bombs?

“Are you okay?” he asked through the radio.

Brianne hurried toward where he stood and nodded to him, her expression intense as she allowed Stella to do her job.

He hadn’t realized until that moment that he really wanted Brianne to be okay.

Glancing back at the old couple, he wondered what it would be like to hold someone’s hand at that age and still be in love.

Knowing he needed to search for more bombs, he hurried to meet Brianne, his mind still on that strong, courageous couple.